Link to the drawing https://www.instagram.com/p/CGJWuF_nPBf/?igshid=1t524y08n4woe
‘This slug, watch how it moves - it seems to move without moving. It becomes itself at the front and stops becoming itself at the back - thus somehow locomotion happens’.
Leo furrowed his brow and flicked B’s earlobe gently with his pen, then turned away from the snail they both had been regarding, and picked up a broadish hog hair brush and recommenced blocking in a background of dark ochre mixed on the panel itself with some raw umber and alizarin crimson.
‘Lift your chin a tiny bit, that’s it, and give me a tiny smile... and think about that trip we got planned to visit Como..’
B sniffed and scratched her nose.
‘Como, and the mountains, don’t forget. Then commence to Dalmatia and Vis and Hvar and that little peninsular errr wassit? Trepanj init? Dem scrolls and that reckless Pirate errr Eric. Beard, silver doublet and those brass canon jobs. How fast can us get yon tarns up by Garda, in this’n slug sledge?’
‘Pretty pretty fast, pretty damned quick once slug gets sliding and the becoming gets to be’.
B adjusted her bodice and scratched at the raw itching in her dreadlocked scalp.
‘Fleas got enough my bloods by now’, and she slumped back and sighed and laughed when she fell backwards onto the great oak boards of the floor of the mezzanine sort of gallery upon which L had his little easel set.
Leo continued to push the rich, dark earthy tones around on the panel and hummed to himself while Bron snatched at a great, white stoat that was licking its coat, twisted and half on its side in a little patch of sunlight dappled from the ivy leaves framing the tiny mullioned window above them. She managed to grab The ermine’s tail but lost her grip as the animal showed its pink mouth and tiny razor incisors, then gambled off like some wild marmoset screeching in its hair raising high pitched and eerie banshee voice.
‘I’ll have ‘ee by Jim crack jimmy thee nice little weasel oh so evil - ha!’
Anyway this was the scene that afternoon.
Next morning they set sail in the great grey sluggy carriage machine they’d built. Slow to start, but after a couple or half dozen hours she’d got up speed and they left the yard and continued to make good progress.
Mendicants, soldiers, farm workers, some clergy in raw red cloaks, a couple of fine ladies and a prince on a tiny black horse watched them as they processed down the road. Used as they were to seeing such-like modern devices as Was apt to appear out of Leonardo the famous inventor and great painter’s scrap yard, they merely looked only slightly awed, then continued about their varied businesses.
In the sledge things were happening and the retinue were having some refreshments - a few cups of the local white wine and several rounds of salad sandwiches along with pickles, some Brie and great slabs of Neapolitan cake served with the sort of warm ice cream thingy that the chef was experimenting with - couldn’t get it quite right, and knew something was missing but believed he’d get it right.. perhaps he’d think of something when they reached the frozen peaks beyond the high tarns....
Best as can be...