Picasso's women
Today we went to see the Picasso exhibit at the AGO. The curators had almost as much to say about the women in Picasso's life as about anything else, which, I suppose, makes a lot of sense. It appears as though Picasso had almost as much to say about those women as about anything else, as well.
It struck me that each of the six women with whom Picasso spent significant portions of his life had something in particular that set them apart from all the others. Not just something surface, though there was that, too - one was a dancer, one was a writer and leftist activist, two were artists, and one was a shop assistant. Each of them brought something unique enough to come through even in their photographs in the program, and this was in turn writ large in Picasso's paintings of them. No doubt the curators selected photos that mirrored the way Picasso perceived them, but still, it's striking. Picasso didn't have a "type."
The first woman, Fernande Olivier, is the most difficult to make out; it's hard for me to guess at her character, but from there on it's very tempting to come up with a narrative to describe the aspects of womanhood (and personhood) that might have been fascinating to him, as well as the story of their relationships with each other. Except for Fernande, Picasso's time with them overlapped or directly followed one another without a break. The curators of the exhibit evidently also thought this an important thing to point out, because the program illustrates Picasso's relationships on a timeline opposite his various "periods" and major events such as meeting Georges Braque, the Spanish Civil War, and the birth of his children. These women knew of one another, and had impacts on each other's lives. No doubt they also perceived what drew Picasso toward each other, and I'm sure that living with someone so widely acknowledged as a genius must have made it almost irresistible to them to see themselves and each other through his eyes.
Picasso's first wife, Olga Khokhlova, was a ballerina, and with her Picasso explored something like a traditional domestic life for the first time. His portraits of her, in this exhibit at least, were on the realistic side. This lifestyle seems to have worn thin after several years, and ten years into their marriage he began an affair with a beautiful blonde Frenchwoman, Marie-Therese Walter, who was only 17 when they met. It seems to have been largely fuelled by sexual chemistry, and appears to have made for an easy, laid-back relationship - his portraits of her depict her reading, or coiled up in a twisted, erotic pose. 1935 seems to have been a very dramatic year for Picasso's personal life - in 1935, his daughter Maya was born by Marie-Therese, his wife left him as a result, and he became involved with another woman, Dora Maar, about the same age as Marie-Therese. This person was intense, intellectual and challenging - Picasso always painted her as troubled or weeping. Things cooled between Picasso and Marie-Therese, and she entered into a rivalry with Dora, which the curators claim was actually enjoyed by Picasso. I think my favourite part of the exhibit was a corner in which portraits of Marie-Therese and Dora face each other - Marie-Therese is utterly changed from the soft, erotic figure of the past into a tense, closed, and squarer figure, while Dora rests at ease in sadness, as if secure in her grasp on the painter. (take a look at the pictures here: Dora and here: Marie-Therese.) M-T's relationship with Picasso survived a year into his relationship with Dora, but he continued to visit and support her and his daughter. Eight years later, Picasso takes up with a much younger woman, Francoise Gilot, who was, according to the curators, "the only woman to ever leave Picasso." And she looks it. The self-possession on her face makes it easy to believe. She had two children with him before leaving him and continuing her own painting career, at which point Picasso takes up with another young woman with whom he spends the rest of his life, Jacqueline Roque. She was 27, he was 72 when they met. She is depicted in the program with her head resting on Picasso's shoulder with a look of adoration on her face, and the curators note that she seemed determined to "sacrifice herself on the altar of his art." I imagine her feeling elevated by his attention in a way perhaps none of his other partners did, especially since she lacked a career of her own.
So Picasso seems to have run through a kind of gallery of feminine archetypes over the course of his life - the domestic partner; the simple, overtly sexual younger woman; the troubled intellectual equal; the free spirit; and the childlike innocent of his May-December relationship (apparently she refused to pose nude for him). I can only think it must have been a very satisfying range of experiences for Picasso, but I can't help but imagine that it wasn't a fun ride for the women. I wouldn't reduce any of these women to the archetypes I've just listed (obviously I know next to nothing about them), but I have to wonder if, given the succession and the comparisons they must have made between one another, if they themselves struggled with those archetypes in the wake of Picasso's regard for them. The way he sort of "covered all his bases" is somehow a little disturbing to me. It seems that so often, women are wanted *as* something, and we often try to figure out what that is as much or more than we try to figure out what we want ourselves. It's almost as though, no matter which way you find yourself being, someone is going to see you and slot you into some archetype. There are so many of them, and perhaps that should be a good thing, but on the other hand, if you can't be *any* way at all and not look as though you fulfill somebody's objectified version of womanhood, it's like you have to fight to retain your sense of self even insofar as you're appreciated for what you are!
Of all the women, the one who interests me most is, of course, the one who left. I call her the "free spirit" because that seems like the closest thing that could capture her position in Picasso's pantheon, but her voice has more depth than that. There is a quotation next to a portrait of her, explaining how the Picasso's paintings of herself differ from all the others (and I bet it was important for her to feel that there was something "different" about them, as no doubt it was important to all his other partners) because she never fully opened up to him - never showed him the bottom of herself. I'll wager she spoke the truth. It seems she had the wherewithal to recognize that she needed to safeguard that part of herself. It's a little bit sad, and a little bit inspiring. Is it ever a good thing to give oneself up totally to someone else, even for a little while? I don't know, I feel as though it must be. But we can lose ourselves that way. Perhaps we lose ourselves in another way if we never *do* give ourselves over. I hope (and think) that when I've given myself up to Rob, I've been actually seen and loved. I don't feel it as a sacrifice. I wonder what it would be like to be in love with someone if you felt the kind of reservations Francoise did. I should find her book, and read it.
It struck me that each of the six women with whom Picasso spent significant portions of his life had something in particular that set them apart from all the others. Not just something surface, though there was that, too - one was a dancer, one was a writer and leftist activist, two were artists, and one was a shop assistant. Each of them brought something unique enough to come through even in their photographs in the program, and this was in turn writ large in Picasso's paintings of them. No doubt the curators selected photos that mirrored the way Picasso perceived them, but still, it's striking. Picasso didn't have a "type."
The first woman, Fernande Olivier, is the most difficult to make out; it's hard for me to guess at her character, but from there on it's very tempting to come up with a narrative to describe the aspects of womanhood (and personhood) that might have been fascinating to him, as well as the story of their relationships with each other. Except for Fernande, Picasso's time with them overlapped or directly followed one another without a break. The curators of the exhibit evidently also thought this an important thing to point out, because the program illustrates Picasso's relationships on a timeline opposite his various "periods" and major events such as meeting Georges Braque, the Spanish Civil War, and the birth of his children. These women knew of one another, and had impacts on each other's lives. No doubt they also perceived what drew Picasso toward each other, and I'm sure that living with someone so widely acknowledged as a genius must have made it almost irresistible to them to see themselves and each other through his eyes.
Picasso's first wife, Olga Khokhlova, was a ballerina, and with her Picasso explored something like a traditional domestic life for the first time. His portraits of her, in this exhibit at least, were on the realistic side. This lifestyle seems to have worn thin after several years, and ten years into their marriage he began an affair with a beautiful blonde Frenchwoman, Marie-Therese Walter, who was only 17 when they met. It seems to have been largely fuelled by sexual chemistry, and appears to have made for an easy, laid-back relationship - his portraits of her depict her reading, or coiled up in a twisted, erotic pose. 1935 seems to have been a very dramatic year for Picasso's personal life - in 1935, his daughter Maya was born by Marie-Therese, his wife left him as a result, and he became involved with another woman, Dora Maar, about the same age as Marie-Therese. This person was intense, intellectual and challenging - Picasso always painted her as troubled or weeping. Things cooled between Picasso and Marie-Therese, and she entered into a rivalry with Dora, which the curators claim was actually enjoyed by Picasso. I think my favourite part of the exhibit was a corner in which portraits of Marie-Therese and Dora face each other - Marie-Therese is utterly changed from the soft, erotic figure of the past into a tense, closed, and squarer figure, while Dora rests at ease in sadness, as if secure in her grasp on the painter. (take a look at the pictures here: Dora and here: Marie-Therese.) M-T's relationship with Picasso survived a year into his relationship with Dora, but he continued to visit and support her and his daughter. Eight years later, Picasso takes up with a much younger woman, Francoise Gilot, who was, according to the curators, "the only woman to ever leave Picasso." And she looks it. The self-possession on her face makes it easy to believe. She had two children with him before leaving him and continuing her own painting career, at which point Picasso takes up with another young woman with whom he spends the rest of his life, Jacqueline Roque. She was 27, he was 72 when they met. She is depicted in the program with her head resting on Picasso's shoulder with a look of adoration on her face, and the curators note that she seemed determined to "sacrifice herself on the altar of his art." I imagine her feeling elevated by his attention in a way perhaps none of his other partners did, especially since she lacked a career of her own.
So Picasso seems to have run through a kind of gallery of feminine archetypes over the course of his life - the domestic partner; the simple, overtly sexual younger woman; the troubled intellectual equal; the free spirit; and the childlike innocent of his May-December relationship (apparently she refused to pose nude for him). I can only think it must have been a very satisfying range of experiences for Picasso, but I can't help but imagine that it wasn't a fun ride for the women. I wouldn't reduce any of these women to the archetypes I've just listed (obviously I know next to nothing about them), but I have to wonder if, given the succession and the comparisons they must have made between one another, if they themselves struggled with those archetypes in the wake of Picasso's regard for them. The way he sort of "covered all his bases" is somehow a little disturbing to me. It seems that so often, women are wanted *as* something, and we often try to figure out what that is as much or more than we try to figure out what we want ourselves. It's almost as though, no matter which way you find yourself being, someone is going to see you and slot you into some archetype. There are so many of them, and perhaps that should be a good thing, but on the other hand, if you can't be *any* way at all and not look as though you fulfill somebody's objectified version of womanhood, it's like you have to fight to retain your sense of self even insofar as you're appreciated for what you are!
Of all the women, the one who interests me most is, of course, the one who left. I call her the "free spirit" because that seems like the closest thing that could capture her position in Picasso's pantheon, but her voice has more depth than that. There is a quotation next to a portrait of her, explaining how the Picasso's paintings of herself differ from all the others (and I bet it was important for her to feel that there was something "different" about them, as no doubt it was important to all his other partners) because she never fully opened up to him - never showed him the bottom of herself. I'll wager she spoke the truth. It seems she had the wherewithal to recognize that she needed to safeguard that part of herself. It's a little bit sad, and a little bit inspiring. Is it ever a good thing to give oneself up totally to someone else, even for a little while? I don't know, I feel as though it must be. But we can lose ourselves that way. Perhaps we lose ourselves in another way if we never *do* give ourselves over. I hope (and think) that when I've given myself up to Rob, I've been actually seen and loved. I don't feel it as a sacrifice. I wonder what it would be like to be in love with someone if you felt the kind of reservations Francoise did. I should find her book, and read it.