Art Academic Essay

Leonardo’s Val di Chiana Map in the Mona Lisa

Donato Pezzutto London / ON / Canada

Abstract

Leonardo arranged the landscape in the Mona Lisa to hold two disjoined halves of one image. That image can be reassembled by juxtaposing two copies of the painting side by side. The newly reconstituted landscape corresponds to an actual place, as depicted in Leonardo’s Val di Chiana map. In this article, the identity of the sitter and opinions relevant to the background landscape are considered, Leonardo’s developments in the depiction of depth outlined, and his technique of topographic perspective introduced. Analysis of these observations, along with Leonardo’s investigations in perception, perspective, monocular and binocular vision, and cartography, lead to understanding of his technique. Speculation as to Leonardo’s motivation include a pun on La Gioconda and his attempt at stereoscopy.

Keywords: Leonardo da Vinci, Mona Lisa landscape, La Gioconda, Val di Chiana map, perception, topographic perspective, cartography, visual pun, binocular vision, stereoscopy

Résumé

Léonard de Vinci a fait le paysage du portrait de Mona Lisa de manière à ce qu’il représente deux moitiés disjointes d’une image. Cette image peut être réunie par juxtaposition de deux copies de l’œuvre mises côte à côte. Le nouveau paysage reconstitué correspond à un lieu réel, représenté dans la carte Val di Chiana par Léonard. Dans l’article, on parle de l’identité de Mona Lisa et des diverses opinions concernant le paysage, on étudie l’évolution de la représentation de la profondeur par Léonard et on examine sa technique de perspective topographique. Une analyse de ces observations, ainsi que des études menées par Léonard sur la perception, la perspective, la vision monoculaire et binoculaire, et la carto- graphie permettent de mieux comprendre sa technique. Parmi les hypothèses émises sur les motivations de Léonard, on inclut un jeu de mots visuel sur La Joconde (La Gioconda) et sa tentative de stéréoscopie.

Mots clés : Léonard de Vinci, paysage du portrait de Mona Lisa, La Joconde, carte Val di Chiana, perception, perspective topographique, cartographie, jeu de mots visuel, vision binoculaire, stéréoscopie

All our knowledge has its origins in our perceptions.

—Leonardo da Vinci

Introduction

Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa is traditionally viewed as

mysterious (see Figure 1). The enigmatic smile is em-

blematic of the notion that she and Leonardo are hiding

secrets from the viewer. Efforts at solving this mystery or

puzzle have largely focused on the sitter, but perspective,

as displayed in this work, will be shown to provide the

answer to this puzzle.

Much of the effort aimed at solving the puzzle has focused

on the identity of the sitter, who is generally accepted to

have been Madonna Lisa Gherardini, wife of a Florentine

merchant, Francesco del Giocondo – hence Mona Lisa or

La Gioconda (Greenstein 2004, 17–38). Many alternative

candidates have been, and are still being, proposed (Zapperi

2010, 40), including the suggestion that the painting is a

self-portrait of Leonardo as a woman (Schwartz, 1988,

40–48). The traditional view, as above, (Vasari 2008 [1550],

294) is well supported by the work of Frank Zöllner

(1993, 115–38) and bolstered with recently discovered

contemporaneous documentation dated October 1503. A

handwritten note by Agostino Vespucci, an acquaintance

of Leonardo, stated that he was working on three paint-

ings, including a portrait of Lisa del Giocondo (Dorfman

2008, 39).

In his thorough review of the evidence that Lisa Gherardini

is or is not the subject of the painting, Jack Greenstein

(2004, 32) questions whether or not the identity of the

sitter matters, as I will show below. The term gioconda

can be translated from Italian as ‘‘playful or jocular.’’

Thus we can rephrase Greenstein’s conclusion as follows:

whether La Gioconda is or is not Mona Lisa, she remains

a gioconda. So the exercise of identifying the sitter leads

back to the conclusion that the painting is a gioconda – a

jocular prank or puzzle.

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The mystery has also been approached from the perspec-

tive of the landscape as allegory. This approach has been

thoroughly discussed by Webster Smith (1985, 183–99),

who summarizes the view that the Mona Lisa landscape

reflects the analogy that Leonardo drew, figuratively and

literally, between the body of humans and the Earth as a

body. Smith quotes opinions such as that of Kenneth D.

Keele: ‘‘Mona Lisa represents Leonardo’s concept of the

formulation of the earth and the analogy so vital to him

of the macrocosm of the world and the microcosm of

man’’ (Smith 1985, 183) and of Martin Kemp on the

landscape as ‘‘a meditation on the human and terrestrial

bodies’’ (Smith 1985, 184). This exploration of the land-

scape as metaphor does not help to solve the puzzle but

does add to the painting’s mystique. Smith does con-

tribute some key observations, however:

The surfaces of the upland lakes, both to the right and to the

left, appear slanted or curved rather than horizontal, as

though to indicate the curvature of the earth or, rather, ‘‘the

sphere of water,’’ and thus that the landscape represents not a

mere view but the globe, ‘‘the body of the earth’’ itself. It does

appear that Leonardo introduced this effect of curvature on

the basis of a concept rather than empirical observation (how

comparable expanses of actual water would really look in the

distance as seen from Mona Lisa’s balcony) . . .

Two sheets of water, one to the upper right, not far below the

eye level of the figure, and the other, merely glimpsed, on the

same level to the left, might be understood as parts of one

enormous lake, and, seen together, these two indications of

water describe a curvature, a bowed effect, across the panel.

Additional, concentric curves are suggested by the tongues of

shoreline on the lower lake to the left and the streaks of light

on its surface. ‘‘The globe of our world,’’ Leonardo says in MS A

(fol. 58v) ‘‘. . . is composed of water and earth, having the

shape of a sphere,’’ although it is not perfectly round ‘‘excep-

ting in the places where the sea is, or marshes or other still

waters.’’ In the Codex Hammer (fol. 34v) he specifies that the

surface of any large and still body of water is everywhere

equidistant from the center of the earth, even ‘‘lakes placed at

the tops of high mountains’’ and ‘‘those that give rise to great

rivers.’’ His diagrams of the world, in MS A and the Codex

Arundel and also MS L, show schematically something like the

Mona Lisa landscape as though in the full round: the entire

globe, ‘‘composed of water and earth,’’ the water surfaces all

spherical, the earth here protruding above, there submerged

beneath, the watery sphere. (Smith 1985, 190)

The passage above reiterates the idea that Leonardo’s

cosmological view is demonstrated in the painting, but it

also illustrates the vast scale and depth portrayed in the

landscape. The scale is ‘‘global’’; the distances portrayed

require including the curvature of the Earth. This high-

lights the unusual perspective demonstrated by Leonardo.

Reconstituted Landscape

At first glance, the painting seems to be a simple portrait

of a lady at a balcony; we see the subject sitting in a loggia

with a view behind her (see Figure 1). But as we study the

work, it becomes obvious that its perspective is most

unusual. The sitter is shown as viewed from eye level; she

is gazing directly at the viewer. The perspective of the

landscape, however, is that of an aerial view; the vantage

point is at, or above, the highest peaks, looking out onto

a vast territory. The enormous depth of this territory con-

tinues to a vaguely defined horizon – so distant that, as

noted above, the curvature of the Earth is appreciable. A

large section of the cosmos is revealed. Furthermore, we

see that the horizon on one side does not match the hori-

zon on the other side. To reconcile this mismatch we can

consider two copies of the paintings viewed in tandem

with a slight gap between them (see Figures 3a and 3b

below.) The juxtaposed images allow the waters, referred

to above as ‘‘two sheets of water, one to the upper right,

not far below the eye level of the figure, and the other,

Figure 1. Leonardo da Vinci, Mona Lisa / La Gioconda (1503), oil on poplar panel, 79.4 � 53.4 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris. Photo credit: Réunion des Musées Nationaux / Art Resource, New York.

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150 Cartographica 46:3, 2011, pp. 149–159 doi:10.3138/carto.46.3.149

merely glimpsed, on the same level to the left, [to] be

understood as parts of one enormous lake’’ (Smith 1985,

190). With the surface of this reconstituted lake aligned,

we can see that the horizon is thereby aligned, as is the

edge of the balcony. The painting has deliberately been

created in such a way that the view of the balcony and

the landscape on one edge continues on the other (Bair,

2007, 173–77).

Compared to the old landscape, with its ambiguous sense

of the flow of its waterways and roadways, or waterways

that resemble roadways, the new landscape shows a logical

depiction of terrain. The newly reconciled landscape

shows a distant mountain lake and a closer lake, which

flows into a meandering stream that joins a wider stream.

That wider stream is crossed by a bridge that leads to a

road, which proceeds over a plain to a gap in a ridge of

hills. The old landscape remains confusing; the new land-

scape could resemble an actual place.

Drs Carlo Starnazzi and Carlo Pedretti have identified

features in the Mona Lisa landscape as matching those

in Leonardo’s Val di Chiana map. The bridge, behind

the subject’s left shoulder in the painting, matches the

medieval Ponte Buriano, and the lake behind her right

shoulder matches Lake Chiana (Owen 2003). But that is

not how they should appear relative to each other. The

reconstituted landscape would place these features, and

others, in their proper relative positions. This new land-

scape does, in fact, resemble an actual place: it is an aerial

view of the Tuscan Val di Chiana region, seen from above

Castiglion Fibocchi in the Pratomagno hills, looking in

a south-south-easterly direction toward Castiglione del

Lago on Lake Trasimeno. A review of the reconstituted

landscape allows us to match the painting to the area,

and that area is depicted in Leonardo’s Val di Chiana

map.

Hypothesis

These observations yield the key hypothesis of this article:

that Leonardo incorporated the Val di Chiana, as depicted

in his map, in the Mona Lisa landscape. To arrive at this

hypothesis, it was necessary to reconstitute that landscape,

as described above. To further develop the hypothesis, the

Val di Chiana map will be examined and a point-to-point

correspondence of the map to the landscape will be re-

viewed. Aspects of Leonardo’s landscapes will be com-

pared to his maps. The analogous techniques he used in

creating landscapes and maps resulted in landscapes and

maps that share similar characteristics. Further support

for the hypothesis and implications of accepting it follow.

Observations

The Val di Chiana map (see Figure 2) is a topographic

map, created by Leonardo, that shows the Chiana flowing

from right to left into the Arno. At the top right is Lake

Trasimeno with Castiglione del Lago, then Perugia beyond

them. Siena is at bottom centre, and Arezzo at top left. The

Ponte Buriano can be seen as it crosses the Arno upriver

from the confluence with the Chiana. This map corre-

sponds well with present-day maps, but with some distor-

tions, especially with the course of the Tiber River. The

most obvious difference from then to now would be the

Chiana itself. Leonardo’s map features what was then a

wide dove-shaped lake, which has now been reduced to a

narrow drainage canal. A road, corresponding to a spur of

the Roman Via Cassia, is shown in part as it runs from

the Arezzo plain through a gap in the ridge of hills, then

along the base of the foothills below Cortina to Lake

Trasimeno.

We can take Leonardo’s Val di Chiana map and consider

a line from the Castiglione del Lago to Castiglion Fibocchi

(just off the left-hand edge of the map). Let us call this

line the ligna castigliona. If we then rotate the map

counter-clockwise until the ligna castigliona is vertical,

the line now corresponds to the seam in the reconstituted

Mona Lisa landscape. The reconstituted landscape shows

obvious correspondence with the repositioned map (see

Figure 3c).

A review of the reconstituted landscape allows us to

match the painting to the map. It may also provide insight

into how the master created the work. As we follow the

seam joining the two halves (the ligna castigliona) from

bottom to top, we find that the landmarks correspond to

the following sequence:

f From a point above Castiglion Fibocchi we see a

slope of the Pratomagno (lower left), followed by

f the confluence of the Arno with Ponte Buriano (left)

and the Chiana River (right), separated by the high

ground between them, then

f a road meandering past Arezzo (behind the subject)

to a gap in a ridge of hills (left), then

f a ridge of hills (right) with the wide Chiana beyond

them. Siena would be to the right (behind the sub-

ject), then

f the hills around Cortona leading up to Lake Trasi-

meno, with the spit of land holding Castiglione del

Lago (just to the left), and, finally,

f the distant mountains to the horizon.

These features are linked together by a road. We can see

its path from the Ponte Buriano, veering through the

plain toward Arezzo, then through the gap in the ridge of

hills, where it would merge with the ligna castigliona. This

route corresponds to that of the Via Setteponti – a section

of the Via Cassia, mentioned above, that joined Etruscan

territory to Rome through the Val di Chiana. Via Sette-

ponti still runs through the Pratomagno, Castiglion

Fibocchi, and Ponte Buriano to Arezzo (Repetti 1833,

375, 607, 723). There it is called the Via Cassia and pro-

Leonardo’s Val di Chiana Map in the Mona Lisa

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ceeds past Cortona through the Val di Chiana – a route

Leonardo would have used (see Figure 4).

These observations allow us to compare Leonardo’s tech-

nique of creating depth in a landscape with his method of

creating a topographic map. As described in his Notebooks

(Leonardo 2005, 95), features closest to the viewer are

treated with full colour and lighting. Beyond that, the

bands of terrain are treated with increasingly muted

colour and diffused lighting, until finally the most distant

lakes and mountains are depicted in a colour-drained

haze. The same is true in the Mona Lisa. In reviewing the

work, we can start at the bottom, with proximal features

such as the Pratomagno slope. This is treated with the

same full colour and light as the subject; in fact, the

shoulder of the hill resembles the shoulder of the sitter.

The band of features including the confluence of the

Arno and the Chiana with the bridge and high ground

gets less colour and light. Likewise the bands of ridges,

then Lake Chiana, then the Cortona hills, are sequentially

less saturated in colour and light. Finally, distant Lake

Trasimeno and its surrounding mountains are washed of

colour and light. Bruno Mottin, in Mona Lisa: Inside the

Painting, states that ‘‘this skilful use of aerial perspective,

in which the depth of field is rendered by a gradation of

colors, prevents us from noticing that the landscape in

the Mona Lisa does not obey the rules of traditional per-

spective, but is rendered in a manner suggesting a relief

map’’ (Mottin 2006, 66).

A topographic map is similarly assembled as bands of

terrain sequenced one behind the other. The effect is like

reading the tabs of a file cabinet. Thus Leonardo could

recall a series of observations to create aerial maps or to

create landscapes. The Mona Lisa landscape is not simply

a bird’s-eye view from one vantage point, however. There

is no one point from which an observer can view the

slope of Pratomagno, the Ponte Buriano, and the sur-

face of the distant, elevated Lake Trasimeno. (Castiglion

Fibocchi and Castiglione del Lago are 50 km apart; see

Michelin map 563.) The landscape should correspond to

a bird’s-eye view along the ligna castigliona, from a point

above Castiglion Fibocchi over the Arno, up the Chiana

valley, to Castiglione del Lago on Lake Trasimeno. If we

try to re-create this using a program such as Google Earth

3D, we see slight discrepancies. First, it must be remem-

bered that the now drained Chiana plain was once marsh-

land. Second, the program tends to flatten height and

Figure 2. Leonardo da Vinci, Val di Chiana (RL12278) 1502–3, 33.8 � 48.8 cm, pen and ink, watercolour, bodycolour, and chalk on paper; The Royal Collection, Windsor. Photo credit: Scala / Art Resource, NY.

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slope, while Leonardo takes licence to enhance the hills

and mountains. In particular, the high ground separating

the rivers at their confluence seems too high for a vantage

point on or above the Pratomagno hills; it is depicted as it

would appear to an observer at a lower elevation, closer to

the banks, but from that vantage point an observer would

be too low to see the surface of Lake Trasimeno. So a

static view does not fit well.

If, instead, we take a virtual fly-over, staying on the same

heading as the ligna castigliona (as above), we will observe

the sequence of vistas used to create the map. From above

Castiglion Fibocchi we see the slope of Pratomagno; we

then descend, flying toward the rivers, and the vista of

the confluence with Ponte Buriano will appear. Likewise,

as we continue on the same heading but at a higher eleva-

tion, the vista will match the distal sections of the land-

scape on to Castiglione del Lago. In this manner we can

appreciate the process that Leonardo used to compile

these remembered vistas and reproduce them so faith-

fully. This treatment, which can be called ‘‘topographic

perspective,’’ uses the cartographic techniques of map-

making to depict depth in landscapes.

Figure 3. The images in (a) and (b) show the reconstituted landscape of the Mona Lisa. Compare the features along the seam of the juxtaposed halves with those along the line on the Val di Chiana map in (c). This demonstrates the painting as a puzzle and reveals its solution.

Leonardo’s Val di Chiana Map in the Mona Lisa

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Results

I have demonstrated above the first objectives of this

article, namely that

1. The Mona Lisa contains, as background, a land-

scape image divided in two parts.

2. The two parts can be reconciled into one image by

aligning the two lateral edges, as outlined above.

3. The reconstituted image depicts an actual place,

namely the Val di Chiana as mapped by Leonardo.

4. That image consists of a sequence of vistas assem-

bled in the form of a topographic map.

Discussion

Support for these observations would include compari-

sons of the reconstituted image to photographic images

obtained during an actual fly-over of the Val di Chiana.

The original map and painting, along with early copies of

the Mona Lisa, including un-cropped versions, should be

reviewed in consideration of the above. Further support

would be the finding of any study sketches of the com-

ponent vistas. Some support does exist in Leonardo’s

works in which the landscape is treated using topographic

perspective. Examples of such works, including the

Annunciation, the Madonna of the Yarnwinder, and the

Virgin and Child with St Anne and Lamb, are discussed in

the Appendix. The discussion that follows also bolsters

the hypothesis.

Descriptions of Leonardo’s maps could well apply to his

landscapes after 1500. Eugen Oberhummer, describing

Leonardo’s Map of Tuscany, reveals that the

mountains, mostly crowned by towns, are drawn in perspec-

tive, with the light falling from the left (south). Rivers are

indicated by double lines, towns and villages by vignettes. The

second [Val di Chiana] map is similarly executed and embraces

eastern Tuscany between Arezzo, Siena, and Perugia. The scale

is about the same, but the orientation is to the east, and the

light falls from the right (south). Besides the blue expanse of

Lake Trasimeno with its three rather exaggerated islands, we

notice in the Valle di Chiana a large and long sheet of water,

no longer existing, which drains both to the Arno and the

Tiber. (Oberhummer 1909, 546)

Both Leonardo’s maps and his landscapes feature topogra-

phy drawn in perspective, with the vertical heights ‘‘exag-

gerated.’’ Vegetation and human-made features – trees,

towns, bridges – are rare; when they do appear, they may

be indicated as vignettes. Maps, by their nature as projec-

tions of the Earth’s curved surface onto a plane, amend

the laws of linear perspective. Distortions are required;

straight lines become curved, and areas are expanded or

contracted; the vertical axis may be flattened or enhanced.

The scale, or point of view, of any vignette may not match

its surroundings. The same is true of Leonardo’s land-

scapes.

Oberhummer also offers his opinion on landscapes by

Leonardo that display the map characteristics described

above, some of which are also referred to in the Appendix:

His studies of Alpine scenery were not confined to the

western Alps, as is shown by his geographical observations

in the Adige basin and the artistic reproduction of mountain

forms evidently taken from the Dolomites, and partly,

perhaps, from the Karst. His preference for steep and rugged

rocks and grottoes is seen in his treatment of the background

of several of his most famous pictures. Among these are one

of his greatest masterpieces, the portrait of Mona Lisa in the

Louvre, and also the Madonna of the Rocks (‘‘La Vierge aux

Rochers’’), which exists in two versions, one in the Louvre,

the other in the National Gallery in London, of which the

relationship has not been definitely explained; the Madonna

[and Child] with St. Anna [and Lamb] and [Madonna] with

the scales (‘‘La Vierge aux Balances’’) [now titled Madonna of

the Yarnwinder]. (Oberhummer 1909, 560–61)

Implications

These observations should rekindle the ongoing debate as

to the nature of Leonardo’s landscapes – whether they are

reproductions of a specific place or a synthesis of various

elements (Kemp 2004, 219). In the case of the Mona Lisa,

along with the examples in the Appendix, it has been

Figure 4. Schematic drawing outlining the features that correspond between the reconstituted landscape and the repositioned map: (1) Pratomagno, (2) Arno, (3) river confluence, (4) Chiana stream, (5) Ponte Buriano, (6) ridge of hills, (7) Via Setteponti, (8) road in gap of ridge, (9) hills near Siena, (10) Chiana Lake, (11) Cortona hills, (12) Trasimeno Lake, (13) Castiglione del Lago, (14) island in Trasimeno, (14) mountains beyond lake

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demonstrated that the landscape is actually the synthesis

of a series of vistas of a specific place. This can be restated

using Leonardo’s terminology. The landscape is not

simply a work of fantasia (imagination); rather, Leonardo

used intelletto (the faculties of intellect) to survey and

memorize an area, then recall and assemble a sequence

of vistas. His intelletto, combined with fantasia, would

transform each vista from the observed vantage point to

an aerial view by imagining a flight over that area.

perspective

These findings – the reconstituted landscape matching a

specific location documented as a map by Leonardo –

provide a unique opportunity to study his innovative

approach to perspective.

By the time Leonardo was studying in the school of

Verrocchio, linear perspective had been codified by Filippo

Brunelleschi and Leon Battista Alberti in De picture

(1435), available in Italian as Della pittura (1436) (Wright

1984, 52–71). Leonardo demonstrated his mastery of this

perspective in the Cartesian grid-like study and final work

with the Adoration of the Magi (1481; Pedretti 2000, 34),

which remained unfinished. His Notebooks refer to linear

perspective as ‘‘nothing else than the seeing of an object

behind a sheet of glass, smooth and quite transparent, on

the surface of which all the things may be marked that are

behind this glass’’ (Leonardo 2005, 92). The use of the

phrase ‘‘nothing else’’ makes this statement seem dismis-

sive, but Leonardo may have been implying that there is

more to the creation of depth than linear perspective

alone.

Leonardo proceeded to consider the effect that the air

between object and viewer would have on the depiction

of depth. What he termed ‘‘atmospheric perspective’’ is

masterfully demonstrated in the Madonna of the Rocks

(1483; Pedretti 2000, 36). Yet he reached beyond atmo-

spherics in considering the limitless portrayal of depth

available in cartography – that is, topographic perspective –

for use in painting. As I have noted, cartography allows,

even demands, the manipulation of linear perspective.

With topographic perspective, a series of vistas are treated

to atmospheric perspective and sequenced, as I have

demonstrated, with diminished colour and light. Instead

of linear perspective’s vanishing point on a distinct hori-

zon, Leonardo’s landscapes recede to a suggested infinity.

Luba Freedman (1997) notes that Leonardo’s innovation

of the ‘‘blurred’’ horizon was used to create the effect

that, as Leonardo wrote, ‘‘one should lose oneself in look-

ing’’ at the Mona Lisa.

motivation

Any attempt to answer the question of how Leonardo

came to hide a map in a landscape should start with a re-

view of what is known. The means has been demonstrated

by exploring his technique. The opportunity was present,

as the map was likely in his workshop when he worked

on the painting. Before starting the Mona Lisa (1503),

Leonardo had travelled through and extensively studied

the Arno and Chiana valleys; he was employed as a

military engineer by Cesare Borgia, notorious son of

Pope Alexander VI, during Borgia’s campaign through

Romagna, including the Val di Chiana. Leonardo was

also involved with Niccolò Machiavelli in a failed scheme

to divert the Arno away from Pisa during the latter’s

hostilities with Florence (Masters 1998, 88). Leonardo

created maps of the region, including the Val di Chiana

map (ca. 1502–3).

To understand why Leonardo came to create the Mona

Lisa as he did, we must look beyond his well-known

pursuits in the arts and his inquiries in the sciences to

consider his jocular nature. There is less scholarly material

on this aspect of Leonardo’s life, but there is evidence of

his fondness for puzzles and puns (Feinberg 2004, 38–

41), rebuses (Marinoni 1954, 186), and transformations

(Capra 2007, 267–70). A most satisfying explanation

for Leonardo’s motive in creating the Mona Lisa involves

his taste for trickery. Leonardo is known to have been

involved in entertainment and spectacles; for example, he

apparently used the intestines of a bullock, hidden in one

corner and inflated (by means of a bellows hidden in

one corner) to fill a room, to crowd people into another

corner (Vasari 2008, 296). Vasari also offers another anec-

dote that shows the extent to which Leonardo would go

just to play a practical joke. A buckler, or round shield,

was left to be painted; Leonardo turned it into a monster

from which issued venom and smoke, and presented it in

such a way as to startle his father (Vasari 2008, 287–9).

Leonardo used perspective to create an illusion with the

Mona Lisa. The viewer is certainly manipulated by the

master, who fools us into the sense of depth created by

the atmospherics of the landscape. Viewers accept the

effect even though the rules of logic are stretched to a

surrealistic breaking point; the horizons to left and right

do not match, the waterways flow in a nonsensical manner,

and the perspective of the background is different from

that of the subject. Mona Lisa’s loggia would seem to be

situated on an impossibly high tower. The sense of dis-

tance is expanded beyond linear perspective. Although

logically there is so much wrong with the work, emo-

tionally the viewer seems compelled by it.

visual pun

Leonardo, as a jester performing this trick of illusion,

would have been rewarded by observing the reaction it

created in the viewer. The piece is relatively small (ca.

79 � 53 cm), and therefore portable. It was a commis- sioned portrait, but it was kept by the artist, frequently

displayed to visitors, and remained with him throughout

his travels, even to the court of the French king, Francis

I. It has remained in France, now displayed in the Louvre

museum in Paris (McMullen 1975). As discussed, whether

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La Gioconda is or is not Mona Lisa, she remains a gioconda.

More to the point is who she is not. She is not a religious

figure, nor is she a powerful and dangerous man; she is

someone whom it would be safe to depict in a prank. In

retrospect, a prank seems conceivable in a work that con-

tains such a glaring error as a mismatched horizon and

a clue in the bridge featured in the scene. The Ponte

Buriano would be recognized by anyone familiar with the

area. Another clue may be in the placement of the sitter’s

hands and the crossed arms, meant to point out a criss-

crossed background (and, some would add, a cross-dressed

subject). Leonardo would have found it amusing to see

who might recognize the deception.

Accepting the painting as a prank or puzzle places the

Mona Lisa alongside Leonardo’s other portraits of

women, which generally follow a motif or theme. His

‘‘Madonna’’ paintings follow conventional religious icon-

ography, with Mary looking on the Christ Child in a scene

foreshadowing the Passion. In the Virgin and Child with St

Anne and Lamb, the sacrificial lamb seems the obvious

reference (Pedretti 2000, 38); the winder, held as an

upright cross in the Madonna of the Yarnwinder, recalls

the Crucifixion (38). His non-religious female portraits,

likewise, include visual emblems as clues to their identi-

ties. The Portrait of a Woman (Ginevra De’Benci) features

a juniper bush behind the subject, juniper (ginepro in

Italian) being a pun on Ginevra (Pedretti 2000, 38). In

Portrait of a Lady with an Ermine, the subject fondling

the pet is Cecilia Gallerani, mistress of Ludovico Sforza;

Sforza apparently commissioned the work, and the ermine

was a reference to him (Shell and Sironi 1992, 47–66).

Such references seem conspicuously lacking in the Mona

Lisa, until we consider the split landscape. It would be in

keeping with Leonardo’s typical practice that the Mona

Lisa would also follow a theme: La Gioconda, the play-

ful lady, features a prank or puzzle, namely a landscape

hidden and finally revealed.

stereoscopy

For a genius such as Leonardo, play was a legitimate pur-

suit and an opportunity for investigation and inspiration.

An example is Leonardo’s approach to the geometric

games in De Ludo geometrico; his obsessive ludo (game)

of sectioning the circle by lunes can be seen as a proto-

calculus (Capra 2007, 270–74). This form of amusement-

as-muse also characterized his exploration of optical

illusions – basically experiments in which visual variables

are controlled to investigate perception. We have discussed

Leonardo’s dissatisfaction with the Albertian approach to

perspective, which is essentially monocular; his investiga-

tion of binocular aspects of perspective is seen in the

Mona Lisa. What has been described as a playful approach

in the painting proved a legitimate opportunity for inves-

tigating perception: ‘‘Leonardo correctly observed that

because the eyes normally receive different views of a 3-D

scene, it is impossible, even in principle, to convey a full

sense of 3-D on a 2-D canvas . . . He puzzled over how

we can see a single world of solid objects given the dif-

ferent eye views (now known as Leonardo’s paradox)’’

(Ramachandran and Rogers-Ramachandran 2009, 12).

Nicholas Wade and others explain that ‘‘Leonardo . . .

struggled with the differences between the perception of

a scene and a painting of it, which he reduced to the

differences between binocular and monocular vision. He

could not produce on canvas what, in the terminology of

[Adelbert] Ames, was an equivalent configuration. This

was provided 300 years after Leonardo by Wheatstone’s

stereoscope’’ (Wade, Ono, and Lillakas 2001, 231). Kim

Veltman (2007) writes, ‘‘After 1500, his major paintings

can be seen as attempts to address one fundamental chal-

lenge: how to create effects of three-dimensional relief

under carefully controlled conditions. Speaking anachron-

istically, he was trying to create auto-stereoscopic effects

in paintings.’’

Leonardo’s investigations of binocular perception led him

to attempt his own version of a stereogram in the Mona

Lisa. Early copies featuring two columns have been cited

to support unsubstantiated reports that the work was

originally larger, then cut down to its present size. Any

cropping of a Mona Lisa that originally included more

of the two columns remains a contentious issue. In the

opinion of Martin Kemp (2004, 219), no such painting

existed; copyists included full columns as their own

invention. Élisabeth Ravaud (2006, 32) relays evidence of

trimming of the unpainted border, but not beyond the

barbe (i.e., the crest of gesso and paint layer meeting a

support frame). This seems conclusive with respect to the

painting as it exists in its present frame, but still leaves

open the possibility that a preliminary sketch or a mini-

mally painted larger panel existed before the painting was

cropped and framed, or that the remaining panel was

previously kept in a frame that depicted these columns –

either painted or in relief.

While the existence of such a purported painting, holding

two columns, is debatable, attempting to re-create it does

prove fruitful. Consider three copies of the Mona Lisa

arrayed in tandem, with two columns extrapolated into

position. These would create a stereoscopic arrangement.

If the Mona Lisa were to succeed as a stereogram, a

column would have to be the central feature of the 3D

effect, prominently situated on the balcony, before the

distant landscape (see Figure 5.)

Figure 5 shows a painterly display of the very example dis-

cussed by Leonardo in his Notebooks under ‘‘Differences

of perception by one eye and by both eyes,’’ where the

column is the ‘‘object in relief t.’’

Let the object in relief t be seen by both eyes; if you will look

at the object with the right eye m, keeping the left eye n

shut, the object will appear, or fill up the space, at a; and if

you shut the right eye and open the left, the object (will

occupy the) space b; and if you open both eyes, the object

Donato Pezzutto

156 Cartographica 46:3, 2011, pp. 149–159 doi:10.3138/carto.46.3.149

will no longer appear at a or b, but at e, r, f. Why will not a

picture seen by both eyes produce the effect of relief, as [real]

relief does when seen by both eyes; and why should a picture

seen with one eye give the same effect of relief as real relief

would under the same conditions of light and shade?

(Leonardo 1970, 29; see Figure 6)

It is more likely, however, that this attempt at stereoscopy

proved unsatisfactory, for several reasons, including the

choice of foreground object, the scale of the painting, the

position of the sitter, and the lack of sufficient image

overlap. The column is an unfortunate choice because,

being smooth and round, it lacks the characteristics that

would make it appear distinct from the vantage point

of one eye or the other. Compared to the smaller-scale

images of stereograms in popular use, such as the Magic

Eye, the larger-scale images of the painting would be

more difficult for the viewer to appreciate as stereoscopic

without the use of special apparatus, such as the lenses or

mirrors of a Wheatstone stereoscope. On a small scale,

such that the image-overlap distance is less than the intra-

ocular distance, it is easier for viewers to converge their

gaze to fully appreciate the phenomenon. On the larger

scale of the painted panel, the image-overlap distance is

much larger than the intraocular distance, which means

that it is more difficult for viewers to diverge their gaze

to appreciate the phenomenon. Placing the painting at a

distance where convergence rather than divergence of

gaze could be used to appreciate the phenomenon would

greatly diminish the 3D effect.

Another factor that diminishes the stereoscopic effect is

the placement of the sitter, which hides the meeting-point

of the disjointed landscape but distracts the viewer during

eye convergence. Finally, the painting fails to provide

more image overlap beyond the columns. If a painting or

a preliminary work (as in Figure 5) did exist, an unsatis-

factory result might have led Leonardo to crop out the

repeated elements. Alternatively, damage similar to the

fissure on the remaining panel (Menu and others 2006,

36) might have led to the loss of part of the original;

cropping to create symmetry perhaps followed, giving us

the painting we know today.

The Mona Lisa can be considered Leonardo’s failed or

incomplete attempt at creating a stereoscopic effect. This

idea should be viewed in the context of Vasari’s state-

ments in Lives of the Artists:

It is clearly evident that because of Leonardo’s understanding

of art, he began many projects but never finished any of

them, feeling that his hand could not reach artistic perfection

in the works he conceived, since he envisioned such subtle,

marvellous, and difficult problems that his hands, while

extremely skilful, were incapable of ever realizing them.

(Vasari 2008, 286–87)

Despite the Mona Lisa’s appearance as a completed paint-

ing, Vasari believed that ‘‘after toiling over it for four

years, he [Leonardo] left it unfinished’’ (Vasari 2008,

294). If the Mona Lisa is in fact an incomplete stereogram,

Vasari would be correct in referring to it as unfinished.

Leonardo might well have stumbled upon the stereoscopic

phenomenon, as can happen to anyone staring at a

repeated geometric pattern such as tilework. Just such a

repeating pattern is actually featured in the stitching on

the collar of Mona Lisa’s dress. The eye fatigue that results

from depicting such demanding detail would inevitably

lead to the cross-eyed view needed to appreciate this

small-scale stereoscopic effect. Such incidental findings

could have inspired a larger-scale attempt at stereoscopy.

Another noteworthy feature, again relating to perspective,

can be seen in what remains of the columns. The bases of

the columns are another departure from linear perspec-

tive. The convergence lines, imagined from the parallel

edges of the column bases, do not recede to a single

vanishing point on the horizon, as expected; instead, the

lines of the left column base converge at the sitter’s right

eye, while those of the right column base converge at the

sitter’s left eye. This seems to signal Leonardo’s intent for

viewers to do likewise – that is, to cross our eyes so that

we see the left column and background with the right eye

and the right column and background with the left eye.

Another work that should be considered potentially auto-

stereoscopic is Leonardo’s Last Supper. Matteo Bandello

Figure 5. Mona Lisa stereogram. Stare at the two white dots and cross your eyes until four dots appear, then reposition your eyes until the two central dots overlap. Look down at the reconstituted column and landscape. This illustrates the stereoscopic effect, easily shown on a small scale with a guide-frame that would be less satisfactorily seen on the larger scale of the actual painting. An original uncropped painting, or frame, may have included part of this image.

Leonardo’s Val di Chiana Map in the Mona Lisa

Cartographica 46:3, 2011, pp. 149–159 doi:10.3138/carto.46.3.149 157

describes Leonardo as staring at his work: ‘‘He might

labour on the piece all day without a break, then leave

and not be seen for the rest of the week. He was observed

on one occasion staring at the painting for several hours,

then making one or two tiny brush strokes, then leaving’’

(Bandello 1554, 121). Leonardo could have been checking

for stereoscopic opportunities; his composition, with the

figures and food items arrayed in sequence along the

horizontal line of the table, would be suitable for stereo-

scopic effects (Ciuffreda and Engber 2002, 37–40). Un-

fortunately the image quality of the painting may now be

too deteriorated for us to see any intended auto-stereo-

scopic effect.

Conclusion

Leonardo presents us with an enigma in the Mona Lisa.

The two parts of the landscape, with their mismatched

horizons and incongruous terrain, represent a puzzle to

be solved. The figure, La Gioconda, hiding the unimagined

confluence of this landscape, will be our playful guide in

solving this gioconda or playful puzzle. She smiles know-

ingly, looking directly at us and pointing to both edges of

the panel. We follow as she indicates the hint of columns

seen along those edges; we see that the bases of the

columns have their lines of perspective converging not to

one point but, instead, back to the eyes of Mona Lisa; the

left lines converge on her right eye, the right lines on her

left eye. We understand this as a direction to look back to

the columns with our eyes converged. The two columns

then resolve into a stereographic image of one column.

The resulting reconstituted landscape likewise is revealed –

puzzle solved.

Thus we see that the Mona Lisa is an elaborate and

sophisticated puzzle. Leonardo perpetrated this prank as

a visual pun on La Gioconda, the playful or jocular lady,

and as an incomplete stereogram resulting from his

investigations of binocular perception. The Mona Lisa

landscape, as painted, is disjointed and unlikely, while

the reconstituted landscape provides a plausible setting

displayed as a topographic map. In fact, it matches an

actual place, the Val di Chiana, as mapped by Leonardo.

This article presents findings that should stimulate scholar-

ship in the fields of art history and cartography. Art his-

torians are challenged to reconsider the current interpre-

tation of the Mona Lisa, in particular, and of Leonardo’s

landscapes, in general; cartographers are challenged to

take the findings of the painted landscapes’ matching spe-

cific locations and develop tests to measure the strength of

this hypothesis.

Author Information

Donato Pezzutto is a graduate of the University of Western

Ontario, School of Medicine, and practices family medicine

in London, Ontario. His amateur pursuits include art his-

tory and philosophy with an abiding interest in Leonardo

and vintage maps.

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Appendix

Topographic perspective has been demonstrated here with

the Mona Lisa as a fly-over view of the Val di Chiana.

Charles Nicholl, in his Leonardo biography (appropriately

subtitled Flights of the Mind ), seems to imply as much for

the part of landscape visible under the wing in the Annun-

ciation with a part of the Map of Tuscany (Nicholl 2004,

47–53). This is an early example of Leonardo’s use of

topographic perspective that corresponds to a particular

place. The view is looking east from the mouth of the

Arno River. At left, below the angel’s wings, are the Pisan

hills, then the palude (wetlands), with the gap between

Montecatini to the north and the Monte Albano range,

with the distinctive ‘‘mnemonic icon’’ peak of Monsu-

mano, to the south. On the right is the view upriver, past

a city that should be, but doesn’t quite resemble, Pisa,

with high peaks on the south bank, to the distant and

highest mountains on to the horizon. (This, incidentally,

would place Leonardo’s hometown of Vinci hidden be-

hind the angel’s head.) Some years after painting this

work, Leonardo would produce the Map of Tuscany

(c. 1503), outlining his plan to divert the Arno through

Serravalle. Thus the painting came to feature the Arno

with its actual course on the right and the proposed

course on the left.

The landscape in the Madonna of the Yarnwinder corre-

sponds to the Adda River. The view is looking north, up

the Adda River from Vaprio with Trezzo sull’Adda, then

steep banks upriver, then valley toward the Lecco arm of

Lake Como, on the left side of the landscape. The high

Alps along the horizon are seen at right. The area is fea-

tured in Leonardo’s Map of the Adda at Trezzo and his

drawing of the Ferry Crossing at Vaprio. A problem arises

because the Madonna and child are shown on high

ground, with a bridge below them. The physical features

fit best with a view from the hills above Villa d’Adda,

looking north, upriver, with a bridge at Brivio, but there

is no record of such a bridge at that time. A possible solu-

tion is that the bridge is at Trezzo, with the high ground

near Vaprio (either imagined or the exaggerated slope of a

steep and rocky riverbank), or that the initial vista is posi-

tioned very far across the Po plain, in the Apennine range

above Piacenza.

There are various candidate locations that may corre-

spond with the landscape for the Virgin and Child with

St Anne and Lamb. A good fit is one based on the Storm

over Valley drawing and the Monte Rosa area discussed

in Leonardo’s Notebooks. The view is looking north-west,

from Mt Barone toward Mt Rosa (Dufour) across the Val

di Sesia, with a valley to Rima San Giuseppe on the right

and the main Sesia valley with Piode on the left.

All these landscapes, along with that in the Mona Lisa,

demonstrate topographic perspective. They include se-

quences of mountainous terrain not appreciable from

one vantage point but assembled as a series of fly-over

vistas, imagined above the highest peaks. It is with the

human-made features (bridges and buildings), as scarce

as they are, that Leonardo takes the most licence. These

do represent some difficulty with matching. Allowing for

Leonardo’s tendency to exaggerate the vertical height of

hills and mountains, however, the natural features provide

the best match for the landscapes to particular places.

Leonardo’s Val di Chiana Map in the Mona Lisa

Cartographica 46:3, 2011, pp. 149–159 doi:10.3138/carto.46.3.149 159

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