For instance, he developed plans for a
bicycle, the rear wheels connected to the operator's pedaled
crankshaft via a flat chain – a chain that would have been
impossible to make in his day, but closely resembles early bicycle
(and other machinery) chains.
Some of the best aspects of the exhibit
are those interactive inventions sprinkled throughout. I took the
kids, and they marveled as they played with gear systems, chain
systems, bearings, and thoroughly enjoyed assembling the interlocking
bridge that requires no fasteners. Of course, too, they wanted to
spend much more than time than would have been polite in the 360
degree mirror room whereupon we could all gaze upon our
backsides...(And see, for once, what really was behind our
ears!)
They give guided tours every hour, and
we drew a student art major who propelled us around the exhibits with
her animated explanations, her easy knowledge, and her nearly
breathless wonder at the accomplishments of the man: Whether the leap
in progress was mechanical, imagination, or artistic, her enthusiasm
was infectious, especially for the kids. Written placards next to
exhibits really are no match for the spoken account from a
knowledgeable guide – especially when the guide will entertain
questions.
Naturally, on the way out, we stopped
by the gift shop to see if there was something which would help us
remember our trip. Puzzles, games, models of the machines, t-shirts:
It seemed they had it all. But the item that intrigued my son the
most was a simple black notebook: faux leather outer binding yellow,
parchment-like pages. I purchased each of the children one, along
with M. Gelb's book, “How to Think Like Da Vinci.”
The inspiration from the trip was on
full display today. Early this morning my 12-year-old mastered
writing in mirror script to be more fully like Da Vinci. Then, after
reading a chapter of the book, he started imagining, writing, drawing
in his 'notebook', creating his inventions. Later he tried bringing
one to life (with modest success!), illustrating that often the best
gift we can give our children is a blank book along with the
permission to fill it up with their ideas, their imaginings, their
life (along with the necessary string, tape, glue, cardboard, etc.!)
Da Vinci didn't start receiving a
formal education until he was 14 years old. Prior to that he
developed his process of disassembling, assembling, drawing,
thinking, and learning about the ways in which the world works and
how to illustrate them, and how to combine known parts into
previously unknown creations. He didn't suffer under the need to get
an 'A': he was driven, it appears, from a formidable curiosity, and
perhaps the realization that, as a bastard child, without learning
all he could, making his way in the world may have been very
difficult. It is hard to know what drove him, but if even a little of
that drive and inquisitiveness can be transferred to our children,
and will stick, then Da Vinci and those who brought the modern
exhibit to life are my newest heroes.
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