Picasso, Dora Maar, portraits & self-portraits
As reported earlier, last weekend I went to Seattle and met up with a bunch of illustration friends to see the Picasso exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum. My travel through the art exhibit periodically intersected with a tour group, and the leader of the tour did a great job of talking not only about the art but the scandalous love life of the painter (many of his models were his lovers, so it was the back-story behind the paintings and therefore fairly relevant). Picasso, from what I gathered, could be a first-class jerk both to his lovers and to his friends. Yet something-his bravado, his genius, his pheromones, his fame?-kept a steady supply of beautiful young women doting on him.
This 1937 portrait of Dora Maar was the painting that I stared at for the longest of anything in the exhibit. I had seen it in reproduction before, but the original is very vibrant and compelling on a whole new level. I didn’t sketch this work in the gallery, just stopped and stared and stared and stared. But I picked up a postcard of the work in the gift shop, and then pulled out the watercolor kit on the southbound train so I could spend more time with the piece by copying it on the way home.
Dora Maar was an artist in her own right: a photographer, painter, and a poet. But as the Wikipedia entry on Maar points out, she was "best known for being a lover and muse of Pablo Picasso." It's a more dignified portrait than many of the others I saw in the exhibit: I love how it her shows her well-dressed and confident, in what I interpret to be the cubist equivalent of a blazer and a plaid skirt. Her cheek has a rosy, healthy glow and her eyebrows arch as if waiting for you to join in with the conversation.
Her eyes are what really got me, though. Her right eye, painted in bright red, is looking straight out at the viewer in a confident and engaging way. Meanwhile, her left eye, painted somewhat smaller in a pale blue tone, is shown in profile; but it’s the reverse profile from the line of her face. The blue eye is not looking out at the world, but rather looking in at herself. It’s as if she’s watching herself sit for the portrait, and wondering, “Is this actually a good use of my time?”
I often wonder, when seeing portraits of women in galleries, what determines whether the attention falls on the art that they inspired as models versus the art that they themselves created. I like it best when it becomes a conversation between artists: Georgia O’Keeffe is captured in portraits by Alfred Steiglitz and Ansel Adams, but her levitating skulls still thrive on their own merits. Meret Oppenheim’s fuzzy teacup still thrives in its infamy, holding its own alongside Man Ray's photographs of her frolicking in the print studio. So this amazing portrait of Dora Maar makes me want to meet her.
With that in mind, I went in search of a self-portrait by Dora Maar: ah ha, contemplating herself with both eyes at once, now. This website starts off with photos of Dora, then her own photographs, and finishes with a portraits that Picasso did of her. Whew, more fodder for an actual conversation between artists now.
When I finished copying the Picasso painting of Dora, I used the muddy rinse water and tail-ends from the watercolor palette to whack out a self-portrait in the reflection of the train window. It's awkward and askew from bumping train tracks and from sitting too close to the reflective surface, but whatever. Let it be a nod to Dora Maar, whose keeps an eye on herself as she gets painted.
PS: The Dora Maar portraits are visually referenced in the chorus of this delightful music video:
70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.
PPS: Speaking of women and portraiture (including of the self!), I am soooooo excited by this film about Artemisia Gentileschi:
a woman like that from Ellen Weissbrod on Vimeo.
This 1937 portrait of Dora Maar was the painting that I stared at for the longest of anything in the exhibit. I had seen it in reproduction before, but the original is very vibrant and compelling on a whole new level. I didn’t sketch this work in the gallery, just stopped and stared and stared and stared. But I picked up a postcard of the work in the gift shop, and then pulled out the watercolor kit on the southbound train so I could spend more time with the piece by copying it on the way home.
Dora Maar was an artist in her own right: a photographer, painter, and a poet. But as the Wikipedia entry on Maar points out, she was "best known for being a lover and muse of Pablo Picasso." It's a more dignified portrait than many of the others I saw in the exhibit: I love how it her shows her well-dressed and confident, in what I interpret to be the cubist equivalent of a blazer and a plaid skirt. Her cheek has a rosy, healthy glow and her eyebrows arch as if waiting for you to join in with the conversation.
Her eyes are what really got me, though. Her right eye, painted in bright red, is looking straight out at the viewer in a confident and engaging way. Meanwhile, her left eye, painted somewhat smaller in a pale blue tone, is shown in profile; but it’s the reverse profile from the line of her face. The blue eye is not looking out at the world, but rather looking in at herself. It’s as if she’s watching herself sit for the portrait, and wondering, “Is this actually a good use of my time?”
I often wonder, when seeing portraits of women in galleries, what determines whether the attention falls on the art that they inspired as models versus the art that they themselves created. I like it best when it becomes a conversation between artists: Georgia O’Keeffe is captured in portraits by Alfred Steiglitz and Ansel Adams, but her levitating skulls still thrive on their own merits. Meret Oppenheim’s fuzzy teacup still thrives in its infamy, holding its own alongside Man Ray's photographs of her frolicking in the print studio. So this amazing portrait of Dora Maar makes me want to meet her.
With that in mind, I went in search of a self-portrait by Dora Maar: ah ha, contemplating herself with both eyes at once, now. This website starts off with photos of Dora, then her own photographs, and finishes with a portraits that Picasso did of her. Whew, more fodder for an actual conversation between artists now.
When I finished copying the Picasso painting of Dora, I used the muddy rinse water and tail-ends from the watercolor palette to whack out a self-portrait in the reflection of the train window. It's awkward and askew from bumping train tracks and from sitting too close to the reflective surface, but whatever. Let it be a nod to Dora Maar, whose keeps an eye on herself as she gets painted.
PS: The Dora Maar portraits are visually referenced in the chorus of this delightful music video:
70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.
PPS: Speaking of women and portraiture (including of the self!), I am soooooo excited by this film about Artemisia Gentileschi:
a woman like that from Ellen Weissbrod on Vimeo.