The clay figure had hardened sufficiently that its face could be painted prior to dressing it up. This was the advanced portion of his study of angelic figures—which was essentially the study of how godly robes hung on the human form and hinted at the shape beneath. Every day there was drawing—one sketched constantly. The sketching of everyday things was absolutely necessary if one wished to paint the divine.

How does one elevate an angel above a human field that remains unfathomed?

One does not. Humanity and the natural world sculpted by God’s hand are the canvas.

What is a cherub without a profane cuss to model him against?

Leonardo was ecstatic. More quickly than was usual—or so old Herman had told him—he had progressed beyond the drawing, grinding, mixing, and brush making of the fresh apprentice, and was already working with composite materials. His favorite thing was the making and dressing of clay dolls. This was done with Herman the Austrian and Pes of Sienna. The Austrian man and the boy had journeyed from far away to be part of Master Verrocchio’s shop and he was glad to be among them.

Herman could use some fresher breath, he had often thought to himself, as the old sculpture leaned over his shoulder and instructed him in figure modeling. This little angel though, was the first one he had done completely from base elements, his first pathetic imitation of God on the Sixth Day.

Look at her shapely legs, and his smiling mouth—oh my!

He/she is an angel, can have elements of boyhood and womanhood both, I hope?

Herman will laugh.

Pes will ask me to caress his groin, that sick gutter urchin!

What will Master Verrocchio opine?

With a spark of wonder in the back of his mind he uncovered his freshly mixed palette of paints: blue, gold and flesh-tone. He then kissed his fingers and applied them to the angel’s cheek before sliding away from the stool at the turntable—for he wished to paint and clothe his angel on the spot she was born, and could get away with this unconventional use of the equipment while the others took their meal at the table up in the back of the house. He so wanted his angel to impress!

Once painted, your angel cheeks will catch the eye as much as Saint Sebastian’s own pained eyes!

He retrieved his bundle of brushes, the very ones he had bound not a month ago. He returned to his stool and uncovered his brushes. His mind then swam in a sea of misery when a pair of mouths fluttered up into the rafters above, having eaten their fill! The brushes, which he assumed would be safe from the depredations of these little monsters this time of year, were ragged at the end, unsuited for painting in their present condition.

At times like this it is good to be alone.

He dunked the brushes in cypress oil, committed himself to trimming and properly protecting them from the moths that should have been dormant this time of year, and then sat contemplating his angel’s cheeks.

Are you girl or boy?

Master Verrocchio’s deep level voice sounded over his shoulder as the others returned to their stations in his wake. “The face is fine—can have the male and female comingled—it being an angel.”

He turned and smiled up at his master, who nodded to the cypress oil bowl with his chin. “Herman told me the moths would get your brushes.”

He forced a smile in response, and Master Verrocchio leaned closer. “Great or small, tragedy is never out of season, Leonardo.”

He nodded again, afraid to speak, as was usual when he was upset with himself. Master Verrocchio seemed to read his face—that being his trade after all. His voice then lowered to a humming whisper, “You must work on your ironic-detachment. Be like the angel, difficult to read. Practice this in the mirror that hangs next to our proportions diagram.”

Why his master indicated that he should study, and ultimately suppress, his facial expression in that specific mirror where they reviewed their anatomical sketches was not lost on Leonardo, even at this young age.

I should be my own model, my own mask.

As he considered this, Master Verrocchio motioned for him to rise and follow him. He followed his master up into the back of the house, past the kitchen, past the apprentice quarters which he shared with Pes, Denot and Ramone, and past the journeymen’s quarters where Herman, Old Anton and Saval lived, and into Master Verrocchio’s own quarters…