Picasso and the Painting that Shocked the World-Miles J. Unger
Another title purchased while in Brooklyn, NY, from an independent little bookstore in Williamsburg a few blocks up from where I was residing. It's always satisfying to discover these little hold out small businesses competing with the big, trendy, sexy Barnes and Noble tyrant. I walked in, only having noticed it accidentally while walking by to a CVS or something, for some toothpaste or whatever.
I cruised the shelves and made mental notes of where I'd like to come back to and browse later on,
but on the center table, near the entrance, you know the spot, just near the front counter, but placed in the vicinity of the swinging front door so a gust of cold air shrivels you up every time a new customer enters, there were some new titles they had on display, and I was excited to read this one. I almost never buy things on impulse, but if I want it living with me, I want it living with me.
Earlier that year, before departing for New York, I had discovered in the library, the published diary of Fernande Olivier, the first, shall we say "historically recognized" of Picasso's famous mistresses and lovers, the one that was with him before he was famous, and during his rise to success. Having read most of that, and getting a glimpse into his life before the fame, albeit told from her perspective, I was excited to get a chance to read this account of his pre-fame career, when he was a poverty stricken (though voluntarily) so-called "bohemian" artist in Paris, trying to make a name for himself. The dingy conditions he lived in, the multiple times he actually had to go back to Barcelona to live with his parents, (about 3 times, apparently) really revealed the mystery behind his success.
Even though a lot of it has to do with the luck of the draw, and being in the right place at the right time, I've found that persistence and diligence increase one's odds tremendously.
It was also interesting to arrive at the part where Fernande begins to appear on the page, now seeing her as a supporting player in this story, as apposed to her lead role in the diary, though in both accounts, Picasso's initial advances toward her are described as clumsy, or awkward. And above all, I was shocked to hear that she actually "friend zoned" him for like a year before they got together.
We tend to place Picasso in this ultimate, super stud, legendary sexual conquest, bedder of a thousand women type category, but before he was famous, he still had to be patient about rejection. Huh...
The description of the so-called "Bohemian" lifestyle, I will say, makes my eyes roll just as much as ever. Some stylish, "we're so poor because we're artists, look how cool we are" lifestyle that people think promotes creativity and imagination, going to seedy bars and dives, instead of working a regular job. That part of the story always fails to excite me, it seeming to be an entirely overrated practice.
But the people that we know he eventually comes into contact with, like Leo and Gertrude Stein, or Daniel Henry Kahnweiler, his early patrons and supporters, much like Ambroise Vollard would be for Cezanne and Gauguin, to me, are under appreciated heroes of these movements.
To be the one in charge of promotion is a separate job from the artist, and a separate talent, along with a separate type of courage one needs to dare to promote these wacky, off the wall, goofball painters from the fringes of society who appear to have no notion of current trends within the contemporary art scene.
It's so refreshing to be reminded that there are people throughout history that have taken it upon themselves to wage war on ignorance and conformity, something that a person definitely has to go out of their way to do, and risk appearing awkward and out of place with one's peers. But if there is a greater principle at stake, perhaps it is worth it. We all take it for granted that those kooky, independent outside thinkers will find their way to center stage and be gifted a chance to perform their little trick in front of the world, and do it while we're all looking, but that will only happen if the right people promote them to the right audience. Someone has to take a chance.
I cruised the shelves and made mental notes of where I'd like to come back to and browse later on,
but on the center table, near the entrance, you know the spot, just near the front counter, but placed in the vicinity of the swinging front door so a gust of cold air shrivels you up every time a new customer enters, there were some new titles they had on display, and I was excited to read this one. I almost never buy things on impulse, but if I want it living with me, I want it living with me.
Earlier that year, before departing for New York, I had discovered in the library, the published diary of Fernande Olivier, the first, shall we say "historically recognized" of Picasso's famous mistresses and lovers, the one that was with him before he was famous, and during his rise to success. Having read most of that, and getting a glimpse into his life before the fame, albeit told from her perspective, I was excited to get a chance to read this account of his pre-fame career, when he was a poverty stricken (though voluntarily) so-called "bohemian" artist in Paris, trying to make a name for himself. The dingy conditions he lived in, the multiple times he actually had to go back to Barcelona to live with his parents, (about 3 times, apparently) really revealed the mystery behind his success.
Even though a lot of it has to do with the luck of the draw, and being in the right place at the right time, I've found that persistence and diligence increase one's odds tremendously.
It was also interesting to arrive at the part where Fernande begins to appear on the page, now seeing her as a supporting player in this story, as apposed to her lead role in the diary, though in both accounts, Picasso's initial advances toward her are described as clumsy, or awkward. And above all, I was shocked to hear that she actually "friend zoned" him for like a year before they got together.
We tend to place Picasso in this ultimate, super stud, legendary sexual conquest, bedder of a thousand women type category, but before he was famous, he still had to be patient about rejection. Huh...
The description of the so-called "Bohemian" lifestyle, I will say, makes my eyes roll just as much as ever. Some stylish, "we're so poor because we're artists, look how cool we are" lifestyle that people think promotes creativity and imagination, going to seedy bars and dives, instead of working a regular job. That part of the story always fails to excite me, it seeming to be an entirely overrated practice.
But the people that we know he eventually comes into contact with, like Leo and Gertrude Stein, or Daniel Henry Kahnweiler, his early patrons and supporters, much like Ambroise Vollard would be for Cezanne and Gauguin, to me, are under appreciated heroes of these movements.
To be the one in charge of promotion is a separate job from the artist, and a separate talent, along with a separate type of courage one needs to dare to promote these wacky, off the wall, goofball painters from the fringes of society who appear to have no notion of current trends within the contemporary art scene.
It's so refreshing to be reminded that there are people throughout history that have taken it upon themselves to wage war on ignorance and conformity, something that a person definitely has to go out of their way to do, and risk appearing awkward and out of place with one's peers. But if there is a greater principle at stake, perhaps it is worth it. We all take it for granted that those kooky, independent outside thinkers will find their way to center stage and be gifted a chance to perform their little trick in front of the world, and do it while we're all looking, but that will only happen if the right people promote them to the right audience. Someone has to take a chance.
