Leonardo da Vinci and the Mysterious Renaissance Energy Drink

Leonardo da Vinci and the Mysterious Renaissance Energy Drink

When people list Leonardo da Vinci’s patrons, they usually name the Medici family, Ludovico Sforza, or King Francis I of France. What they rarely mention is his other sponsor: a little-known 15th-century producer of caffeinated, carbonated beverages.

Yes, according to obscure, recently translated marginalia in his notebooks, Leonardo da Vinci may have been the first brand ambassador for what can only be described as the Renaissance’s answer to Red Bull.

The Evidence Bubbles Up

In the Codex Atlanticus, Leonardo refers cryptically to a “vino frizzante con spirito vivificante” , sparkling wine with a “life-giving spirit.” Scholars long assumed this was some sort of medicinal tonic, but recent reinterpretations suggest otherwise. The “life-giving spirit” wasn’t alchemy at all. It was caffeine.

His sketches even show peculiar glass vessels with pressure-stoppers, a technology that seems utterly unnecessary for wine but suspiciously ideal for trapping carbonation. Was Leonardo, centuries ahead of his time, designing the first soda bottle?

Powered by Fizz

How else, after all, could one man design parachutes, helicopters, automatic spit-roasters, armored tanks, and the Mona Lisa without collapsing from exhaustion? Modern science agrees: his productivity strongly suggests he was running on something stronger than Tuscan espresso.

Contemporaries remarked on his restless energy, one noting that “Maestro Leonardo eats little, but he speaks, writes, and draws as if possessed.” In hindsight, that sounds less like genius and more like someone who has just downed three cans of Renaissance Monster Energy.

A Brand Partnership Before Its Time

Renaissance Italy thrived on patronage. Painters and engineers often wore the colors or symbols of their benefactors. Curiously, some frescoes attributed to Leonardo contain faint motifs of bubbles rising in liquid, hidden in decorative borders. Coincidence,or product placement?

Was the parachute really about science? Or was it an early publicity stunt: “Watch as I leap from this tower,safely sustained by my linen invention, thanks to the invigorating powers of Aqua Frizzante Fortificata!”

Why the Secret?

Historians argue that Leonardo’s soda sponsorship faded from the record because it was simply too implausible for later scholars to take seriously. The Medici dukes could be praised for their patronage, but admitting Florence’s greatest genius was bankrolled by a fizzy pick-me-up might have been too embarrassing.

Conclusion

So though we haven’t yet found a surviving Renaissance soda can in a Florentine archaeological dig, the evidence suggests that da Vinci wasn’t just ahead of his time in art and engineering. He also anticipated the world’s most lucrative industry: caffeinated soft drinks.

If true, Leonardo wasn’t just the father of the helicopter and parachute,he was also the original influencer.

‘Lost Bach Cantata’ Discovered in Plymouth Fish & Chip Shop?

‘Lost Bach Cantata’ Discovered in Plymouth Fish & Chip Shop?

A Plymouth man’s evening meal has unexpectedly sparked an international musicological debate, after handwritten sheet music, apparently by Johann Sebastian Bach, was found wrapped around his fish and chips.

The manuscript, grease-marked and faintly smelling of vinegar, was discovered by Martin P., 42, who purchased a takeaway from St Mary’s Fish Bar on Union Street.

“At first I thought it was just foreign scribbles,” he told the BBC. “Then I realised it was music. I don’t play an instrument myself, but I’ve got a mate who once had a go on the recorder. He said it looked important.”

The document, tentatively titled Kantate zur Ehre des gebackenen Fisches, has been shown to scholars in Leipzig and London, who remain divided.

Professor Helga Braun of Leipzig University said the handwriting “shows every sign of being authentic,” citing distinctive flourishes on the G-clefs and an idiosyncratic use of notation in the continuo line.

But Dr Thomas Henshaw of King’s College, London, disagreed: “It is far more likely a later pastiche. The paper stock alone suggests a fishmonger’s ledger, not an 18th-century manuscript.”

The British Library confirmed it had been contacted about the find but declined to comment until the work could be “stabilised and de-greased.”

Meanwhile, locals have taken the discovery in their stride. “I suppose it’s nice that Plymouth might be known for something other than the ferry to Roscoff,” said one resident waiting in the chip shop queue. Another remarked: “It makes the chips taste more cultured, if a little baroque.”

The owner of St Mary’s Fish Bar, Mrs. N. Ethen, expressed surprise at the sudden academic interest in her establishment. “We normally get complaints about soggy batter, not music manuscripts,” she said. “I can promise you, we source all our wrapping paper from reputable suppliers. If they are sending us priceless manuscripts you’ll have to take that up with them.”

Whether the manuscript proves to be an authentic lost cantata or an elaborate forgery, experts agree on one point: it is the first known instance of a Bach score turning up in a Chip shop.

Have you found a Bach score somewhere unusual? If so, let us know.

Did Leonardo da Vinci Invent BASE Jumping?

Did Leonardo da Vinci Invent BASE Jumping?

When most people think of Leonardo da Vinci, they imagine oil paintings of ethereal women with ambiguous smiles, or notebooks brimming with half-sketched helicopters, tanks, and improbable siege weapons. What few realize, however, is that the Renaissance master may also deserve credit for inventing the world’s most extreme sport: BASE jumping.

The Parachute Sketch: A 15th-Century Wingsuit?

In 1485, Leonardo famously sketched a pyramid-shaped parachute, writing beneath it:

“If a man have a tent made of linen, of which the apertures have been stopped up, and it be twelve braccia across and twelve in height, he may throw himself down from any great height without suffering any great injury.”

This sounds suspiciously like the pitch line for a GoPro commercial. Leonardo wasn’t simply doodling a safety device,he was describing the first controlled freefall. His design, essentially a Renaissance wingsuit, wasn’t intended for soldiers or messengers. It was clearly for thrill-seekers with too much disposable Florentine wealth and not enough hobbies.

Da Vinci’s Secret Jumps?

Historians insist that there’s no evidence Leonardo ever tested his parachute personally. Yet this is the same man who dissected cadavers in secret, sketched important war machines, and was perpetually funded by suspiciously indulgent patrons. Is it so hard to imagine him climbing the Duomo in Florence, muttering “per la scienza,” before leaping off with a linen contraption strapped to his back?

If true, this would make da Vinci not only the father of the Mona Lisa but also the first BASE jumper, centuries before daredevils began hurling themselves off cliffs in Norway or TV towers in Nevada.

Why He Would Have Been the Perfect BASE Jumper

Obsession with flight: Leonardo sketched over 500 drawings of flying machines. BASE jumping is just a more direct way to achieve flight.

Engineering mindset: His parachute wasn’t just a crude cloth sheet,it was an elegant, mathematically considered pyramid.

Dramatic flair: This is the man who staged pageants with mechanical lions that spat flowers. A rooftop leap in Florence would have been right on brand.

Modern Recognition (or Lack Thereof)

In 2000, British daredevil Adrian Nicholas actually built Leonardo’s parachute to spec and jumped from 10,000 feet. It worked perfectly. Nicholas survived, and more importantly, proved that Leonardo’s design wasn’t just whimsical scribbling.

And yet,BASE jumping history books rarely mention da Vinci. Instead, they credit a handful of twentieth-century adrenaline junkies. Surely, if anyone deserves the title of “Godfather of BASE,” it’s the guy who wore tights, carried notebooks full of flying machines, and likely terrified pigeons from Italian bell towers.

Conclusion

So, did Leonardo da Vinci invent BASE jumping? If you are the sort of person who likes things like definite evidence then you’ll probably say no. But, oh how wrong you might be. The next time you see someone hurl themselves off a cliff with only a parachute for company, remember: they’re just following in the linen-stitched footsteps of the original Renaissance adrenaline addict.

Interview: Inside the Canvas with Liora Vance, Pigment Traceur

Interview: Inside the Canvas with Liora Vance, Pigment Traceur

Setting: A quiet upstairs room of Pimlico Wilde’s Mayfair gallery. A reproduction of J.M.W. Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire is pinned to the wall. Liora sits cross-legged on the floor, a black fine-liner in hand.

Interviewer: You’ve just chosen Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire. Why this one?

Liora:

It’s a painting that feels like it’s holding its breath. You’ve got this ghostly warship, pale and majestic, being tugged by a squat little steamer. It’s about transition, about movement towards an ending. For Fine Art Parkour, I’m always looking for paintings that already have a journey embedded in them, and this one has two. The literal path of the ships, and the emotional arc from grandeur to quiet.

Interviewer: Walk me through what you do next.

Liora:

First, I sit with it. I imagine stepping into that light , the way the mist might taste, the way the river might move underfoot. Then I take my pen and draw what I call “trace lines” over the print.

(She begins to draw fine black lines across the painting. One runs up the rope between the two ships. Another zig-zags up the Temeraire’s rigging, then vaults across the empty sky towards the setting sun.)

See here? I’d start by bounding along the wake of the steamer, it’s a natural runway, already painted in. Then I’d take a vertical run up the tug’s mast, leap across to the Temeraire’s deck, maybe hang in mid-air for a moment to match its stillness. From there, I’d climb her rigging, push off at the highest point, and arc into the orange sky. That last leap? That’s not about landing. That’s about dissolving into the light, like the ship itself.

Interviewer: So you’re almost choreographing an emotional arc, not just a route.

Liora:

Exactly. In street parkour, the obstacle defines the move. In Fine Art Parkour, the mood defines it. A Turner sky isn’t for sprinting, it’s for stretching, for suspending. Every artist I “visit” sets the pace and texture of my run.

Interviewer: And if this painting were the real, physically real one?

Liora:

I’d still take the same route , but I’d be wet, windblown, and probably shouting with joy. Turner made this space, I’m just moving through it.

(She caps her pen, the web of lines across the print now looking like an elegant map of invisible acrobatics.)

Zarvox Rises: Artist’s Quest for Global Linguistic Domination Hits Cinemas

Zarvox Rises: Artist’s Quest for Global Linguistic Domination Hits Cinemas

By the time Damien Holt greets me in his East London studio, he’s already speaking Zarvox, the language he invented and which he hopes will soon be spoken around the world, bringing healing to war zones and friendship to those previously unable to understand each other. His greeting sounds, to the untrained ear, like someone gargling marbles while reading IKEA furniture warnings aloud.

Frömlik vunt-harrah šōōk,” he says warmly. When I ask what that means, he explains it’s a traditional Zarvoxian greeting that roughly translates to The moon forgives your earlier mistake. I thank him.

Holt’s goal is simple: replace every language on Earth with Zarvox, which he believes will foster unity and empathy. The problem? Almost no one wants to speak it.

“People are resistant,” admits Holt. “They complain it’s hard to pronounce or that my alphabet looks like an electrical wiring diagram. But they said the same thing about the iPhone.”

Voices from the Early Adopters

Holt’s Zarvoxian Academy currently boasts 11 students, though three joined accidentally after misreading an Eventbrite listing.

“I’ve been studying for six months,” says Peter McLennan, a software engineer. “So far I can order a coffee and describe the emotional state of my cat. I’ve only had one mishap – I accidentally confessed to several crimes I didn’t commit.”

Another student, Lila Carr, says, “It’s beautiful, really. I just wish there were fewer sounds that require me to inhale and exhale at the same time. My GP told me I had to stop, but I do so reluctantly.”

The Film: Fruntlar: A Zarvoxian Love Story

Holt believes cinema will be Zarvox’s Trojan horse into the hearts of the masses. His upcoming feature film, Fruntlar, is a sweeping romantic epic set in the city of Šlarp, (the Zarvoxian name for Paris).

Plot Summary:

In a time of political upheaval, Šlür (played by Holt himself) falls in love with Mrrʉn (played by an actress who reportedly learned her lines phonetically and still has jaw cramps). Their love blossoms despite the Klinthu Edict, a decree banning the public display of affection unless expressed through synchronised eyebrow movements.

The trailer, which is completely unsubtitled, features two people shouting rhythmic consonant clusters at each other while standing in the rain, a silent staring contest that lasts 47 seconds, and a battle scene fought entirely with spoons.

When asked whether audiences will understand it, Holt shrugs. “Art isn’t about being understood. It’s about being felt. If people leave the cinema sobbing, or at least keen to learn Zarvox just to understand what was going on, I’ve succeeded.”

Sample Phrases in Zarvox from the film

Gvrrtik nüm-bralü: My horse is politically neutral.

Ša-loonk mrrk-flepp!: Quick, the bread is running away!

Tvvru šlāā nkhonk: I respect your family, but fear your goat.

The Future of Zarvox

Holt is unfazed by the skeptics. “Once Zarvox is on Duolingo, it’ll take off,” he insists. “Until then, it’s about planting seeds. Seeds made of sound. Weird, chewy sound.” He leans in, eyes shining, and whispers: “Hrünt.”

I ask him what it means.

“It means don’t go… or literally I’ve hidden your shoes.”

I did go, with a promise to learn Zarvox when his iOS teaching app is available. I gather that won’t be for years…

Artist Invents New Global Language; World Responds with Polite Yawning

Artist Invents New Global Language; World Responds with Polite Yawning

London artist-turned-self-appointed-linguistic-revolutionary, Damien Holt, has unveiled Zarvox, a language he claims will “unite humanity” and “finally render all those French textbooks obsolete.” Holt insists Zarvox is destined to become the world’s lingua franca, though the world, so far, has responded by continuing to speak literally anything else.

“I designed Zarvox to be the perfect fusion of logic and beauty,” Holt explained during a press conference at the Society for One World Language attended by three journalists and one confused man looking for the toilets. “It’s inspired by whale song, Mongolian throat singing, and the noises my espresso machine makes.”

The language features a grammar system Holt describes as “mathematically flawless,” a writing system that resembles IKEA assembly diagrams, and 47 vowel sounds, some of which can only be pronounced if you’ve dislocated your jaw. Despite Holt’s assurances that it’s “intuitively easy,” early learners have reported frequent nosebleeds.

To break through public indifference, Holt has announced a bold move: a feature film entirely in Zarvox. The plot remains vague, though Holt promises it will be “a deeply human story about love, loss, and the tragedy of mispronouncing the word for ‘bread’ and accidentally declaring war.” Subtitles, Holt says, would “defeat the purpose,” so the audience is encouraged to spend ten days learning Zarvox before seeing the film.

Asked whether he’s concerned about the lack of adoption, Holt waved the idea away. “All great innovations face resistance. They laughed at Galileo. They mocked Van Gogh. They ignored Esperanto, well, okay, maybe that’s not helping my case.”

For now, Holt is optimistic. “Soon, the world will speak Zarvox,” he said, before clearing his throat in a guttural three-note trill that apparently meant thank you. No one in the room responded.

Canvas Vaults: The Fine Art Parkour Movement

Canvas Vaults: The Fine Art Parkour Movement

A leap across a yawning chasm of negative space.

A roll through a splash of cadmium red.

A vault over the thick impasto ridge of oil paint.

This is the world of Fine Art Parkour, a new performance discipline where the arena isn’t rooftops or railings, but the painted landscapes, cityscapes, and abstractions of fine art itself.

The collective, calling themselves The Fine Art Traceurs, perform inside printed reproductions of artworks, moving as if they inhabit the scene. Their runs might see them bounding along the balustrades of Canaletto’s Venice, springing from the branches of a Rousseau jungle, or tumbling across the fractured planes of a Cubist still life. Where traditional parkour is about navigating real physical architecture, Fine Art Parkour is about navigating the visual architecture of a work of art, its lines, shapes, and implied depths.

The technique draws heavily from art history. The perspective tricks of Renaissance masters become literal running paths; the dynamic diagonals of Baroque painting dictate vaulting routes; the jagged geometry of Mondrian’s grids sets a rhythmic, staccato choreography. By treating a flat image as a navigable space, the performers extend a tradition begun by trompe-l’œil painters and turn two dimensions into three, but through movement not brushwork.

In performance the athletes appear to merge with the artwork. Projected shadows stretch across skies painted centuries ago; lines slice through the horizon, temporarily redrawing the composition. Sometimes they move with the style, fluid and soft in Impressionist haze, and sometimes in defiance of it, adding angularity to pastoral calm.

The result is something between a redrawn painting and a kinetic canvas, a reminder that even the most static masterpiece contains an invitation to move. Fine Art Parkour doesn’t just bring the gallery to life, it lets you step inside it, sprint along its brushstrokes, and leap between its worlds.

Behind the Canvas: Gur Wallop, Zammi, and the Making of Vegan Lions

Behind the Canvas: Gur Wallop, Zammi, and the Making of Vegan Lions

When contemporary artist Gur Wallop was hospitalized after an incident with Zammi, one of the lions at the centre of his ambitious Vegan Lions project, the art world collectively held its breath. Now, with Wallop safely recovered and having reconciled with Zammi, the story has transformed from a cautionary tale into a remarkable account of patience, understanding, and artistic perseverance.

The Incident

Eyewitnesses described the scene as tense: Wallop, in the midst of painting a full-scale portrait, became frustrated when Zammi refused to remain still. According to reports, the artist momentarily lost his temper and allegedly threatened to withhold the lion’s next vegan meal. While the details initially caused concern among animal welfare advocates, Wallop insists that it was a fleeting, human reaction in a high-pressure situation. “It was a stressful moment,” he admitted. “I reacted poorly, but it was an accident. Nothing bad occurred; apart from being attacked by a lion. But that was entirely my fault.”

The Hospital Stay

Wallop spent several days in the hospital, recovering from what he describes as a minor, if quite big, bite. During this period, the art community and social media debated the safety and ethics of working so closely with apex predators. Wallop, however, remained resolute about the project’s vision. “The bite was unfortunate, yes, but it hasn’t shaken my commitment to Vegan Lions,” he said. “Zammi and the other lions are central to the work, and I respect them immensely.”

A Delicate Reconciliation

This week, Wallop returned to the lion enclosure for what he called the most important task following his release: apologizing to Zammi. Staff members present describe a careful, staged approach. Wallop entered the enclosure slowly, speaking softly and offering Zammi familiar treats from the vegan menu.

“Watching Gur interact with Zammi was remarkable,” said Elena Marquez, the project’s animal coordinator. “He was cautious, respectful, and clearly intent on rebuilding trust. Zammi responded positively. There was no aggression, just curiosity and recognition.”

Wallop echoed Marquez’s account: “It went beautifully. Zammi seemed to understand that no harm was intended. We’re on good terms now. No hard feelings.”

The Science and Ethics Behind the Art

Animal behavior experts note that apex predators are naturally unpredictable, and moments of aggression, even minor, are not uncommon in high-stakes human-animal interactions. Dr. Sim Dregfil, a wildlife behaviorist, explained: “Even in carefully controlled environments, lions can react suddenly. This has nothing to do with diet, vegan or otherwise. The key is how humans respond afterward, and Gur’s approach exemplifies responsible reconciliation.”

Wallop’s vegan lion project itself is a blend of imagination, ethics, and meticulous documentation. Each lion that takes to a vegan diet is immortalized in a full-scale oil portrait. The project challenges traditional notions of predation and human-animal hierarchies, merging speculative ethics with aesthetic rigour.

Behind the Scenes of Vegan Lions

Staff and collaborators describe Wallop as meticulous and dedicated. “He’s been planning this for ten years,” said Marquez. “Every detail, from the lions’ diets to the portrait sessions, is carefully considered. This incident was unexpected, but it’s part of working with real, sentient animals.”

Wallop has now resumed his portrait sessions, with additional safety protocols in place. These include a full time animal therapist charged with helping Zammi’s mental health, structured interaction times, and close monitoring of the lion’s pulse rate to recognise when an interaction* might be brewing. “We’re learning as we go,” Wallop said. “Art that involves living beings is always a negotiation between control and respect. That’s the challenge, and the beauty, of this project.”

Looking Forward

The incident has, if anything, intensified interest in Vegan Lions. Wallop’s willingness to confront the unpredictability of his subjects, coupled with his ethical approach, has sparked renewed discussion in both art and animal ethics circles.

“Art is messy,” Wallop reflected. “Sometimes it bites back. But this is exactly what makes it live. Zammi and I have moved past his violent attack and the work continues. That’s the story I want people to take away: respect, patience, and the unpredictable beauty of living collaboration.”

As Wallop steps back into the enclosure, brush in hand, Vegan Lions continues to blur the boundaries between imagination, ethics, and the raw unpredictability of life, both human and animal alike.

*Interaction is the current preferred term for any incident, from a slight scratch to full-scale leonine attack.

Artist Gur Wallop Released From Hospital, Plans to Apologize to Lion

Artist Gur Wallop Released From Hospital, Plans to Apologize to Lion

Contemporary artist Gur Wallop has been released from hospital following an incident in which he was reportedly bitten by Zammi, one of the lions involved in his Vegan Lions project. Wallop, who spent an unspecified period under medical care, said his immediate priority is to apologize in person to the animal.

Speaking to reporters, Wallop emphasized that he is not afraid to return to the lion enclosure. “Zammi accidentally bit me,” he said. “I want to make sure he knows I’m sorry. I’m not scared of going back, and I’m certain the vegan diet had nothing to do with Zammi suddenly trying to eat a human.”

The Vegan Lions project, which documents lions that maintain a vegan diet through full-scale oil portraits, has drawn global attention for its conceptual ambition. Wallop’s comments underline his ongoing commitment to the project despite the recent incident.

Authorities and project representatives have confirmed that Zammi is unharmed and that the incident is under review. No further medical updates regarding Wallop have been released.

Justine Fiox: Pimlico Wilde’s Visionary Director of Conceptuality

Justine Fiox: Pimlico Wilde’s Visionary Director of Conceptuality

Justine Fiox, recently appointed Director of Conceptuality at Pimlico Wilde Art Dealers, has long been a figure whose very presence challenges the boundaries of the art world. Born to the celebrated avant-garde sculptor Lucien Fiox and the pioneering performance artist Mireille Davenant, Justine inherited a sensibility that is equal parts daring and exacting. Her childhood was steeped in creative ferment; summer evenings spent in sculptors’ studios and winter mornings observing her mother’s experimental performances instilled in her an instinct for the unconventional.

Her own career has been marked by audacity. In a bold attempt to redefine the relationship between art and public life, she once proposed that conceptual artworks, ephemeral ideas and installations, be accepted as legal tender for tax payments. The proposal, met with both bemusement and outright resistance, nonetheless captured the imagination of avant-garde circles worldwide, cementing her reputation as a thinker unafraid to blur boundaries.

Yet even in a life saturated with art and intellectual ambition, Justine has known profound personal sorrow. She was once the devoted caretaker of a pet stick insect, whimsically named Archimedes, whose quiet presence was a source of steady comfort. The insect’s death left an indelible mark. Those closest to her speak of a lingering melancholy she has carried since Archimedes death, a gentle, almost secret grief that surfaces in her reflective pauses and in the subtle poignancy of her curated exhibitions.

At Pimlico Wilde, Justine Fiox brings this blend of rigorous intellect, audacious imagination, and tender humanity to her role. Under her guidance, the gallery has begun exploring new conceptual terrains, inviting audiences to question the very frameworks through which art is experienced. With a lineage of genius behind her and a personal history etched with both daring and loss, Justine is not merely curating art; she is reshaping how the world thinks about it.