OK, let's unpack this. When you think of the
20th century in art, one name immediately leaps
out, a name synonymous not just with painting,
but with artistic revolution itself. We are diving
deep today into the life, the chaos and the monumental
legacy of Pablo Picasso. And monumental is precisely
the right word, especially if we measure it in
sheer volume. We have to start with his output.
When Picasso died in 1973 at the age of 91, his
estate was not just large as a staggering inventory.
Staggering is putting it mildly. Over 45 ,000
unsold works. That included 1 ,885 paintings,
1 ,228 sculptures, and then, you know, thousands
upon thousands of ceramics, drawings, and prints.
45 ,000 pieces. It's a number that defies comprehension,
really. It suggests not just talent, but a perpetual,
relentless energy. Our mission today is a shortcut
to understanding this human engine of creativity.
Right. How one man could move so rapidly through
styles, the intense, often catastrophic relationships
that fueled his periods, and how his art became
a literal, vast pictorial autobiography. It's
an exploration of constant transformation. I
mean, unlike many masters who spend decades refining
a signature style, Picasso embraced multiplicity.
He himself stated in 1923 that his different
manners of expression, that they must not be
considered as an evolution. So not a straight
line from A to B. Not at all. He saw them as
different. simultaneously available ways of conveying
his subjects. It was a toolbox, not a ladder.
Absolutely. He was always shifting, always in
motion. And just to start this whole journey,
here is an initial fact drop for you to chew
on, revealing the depth of his Spanish roots.
Get ready for his full birth name. Oh, this is
always a good one. Pablo Diego José Francisco
de Paulo Juan Nipomuceno María de los Remedios
Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso.
That is quite the invocation. It speaks to a
deep historical and cultural background, doesn't
it? I think we can all agree he made the correct
editorial decision sticking with just Picasso.
But what's even more fitting is the story his
mother told about his very first words. They
weren't mama or papa. No, they were peas, peas.
Exactly. A shortening of lapis. The Spanish word
for pencil. He was quite literally born with
a drive to create. So a perfect place to begin
is with those formative years in Spain where
that drive was first channeled. So we begin our
deep dive into the man who insisted on radical
change with a look at his formative years in
Spain. He was born in Malaga in 1881 to a comfortable
middle class family. And the initial blueprint
for his genius was handed down by his father,
José Ruiz y Blasco. His father was instrumental,
you know, providing that crucial early foundation.
José Ruiz wasn't just a painter specializing
in detailed, naturalistic depictions of birds
and game. He was also a professor of art and
a museum curator. So art was the family business.
In a way, yes. This meant young Pablo received
intensely formal training from the age of seven
in oil painting and figure drawing. It was the
rigid academic curriculum. disciplined copying
of masters and drawing from plaster casts. And
the genius manifested almost instantly, so much
so that it seems to have, well, stifled his father's
own ambition. There is that famous anecdote,
the moment of artistic parasite, if you will,
that really sets the tone for Picasso's entire
career. The famous pigeon sketch. Yes. Jose Ruiz
was working on an unfinished naturalistic sketch
of a pigeon. The 13 -year -old Pablo finished
it with such precision and technical mastery.
Just picked it up and finished it. Yes. Demonstrating
a command of realism that exceeded his father's
own capabilities. The story goes that Jose Ruiz
supposedly vowed to give up painting right there
and then, believing he had been surpassed. He
handed his brushes to his son. Wow. Can you imagine
that moment as a father? It's a powerful narrative
about a child's talent just consuming the father's
career. That kind of talent meant that at 13,
when the family moved to Barcelona after the
tragic death of his younger sister Conchita from
diphtheria, the standard path simply wasn't applicable
to him. That move must have been shadowed by
grief. Absolutely. And this is where we see his
immense skeed. In Barcelona, his father convinced
the School of Fine Arts to let the 13 -year -old
attempt the entrance exam for the advanced class.
An exam meant for older, more experienced students.
Exactly. This exam was designed to take students
a full month to complete, requiring immense discipline
and time. Picasso finished the entire portfolio
in one week. One week. And was immediately admitted
by the jury. He simply possessed an accelerated
understanding of classical form. But the rigor
of the classroom, the structure, it quickly grated
on him. He wasn't made for structured learning.
No, the institutional environment didn't hold
his interest at all. At 16, he tried to attend
Madrid's prestigious Real Academia de Belas Artes
de San Fernando, the country's foremost art school.
But he disliked the formal instruction, the lectures,
and the traditional curriculum so much that he
just... He stopped attending classes. But this
wasn't wasted time. It was self -directed education,
right? Exactly. He used his time in Madrid to
immerse himself in the Prado Museum. He studied
the Spanish masters, critically analyzing the
techniques of Velázquez, Goya, and Zurbarán.
And crucially, he developed a profound admiration
for El Greco. El Greco's style is so dramatic.
What was it about him that resonated with the
young, rebellious Picasso? It was the drama.
spiritual intensity, the arresting use of non
-naturalistic color, and those elongated, often
exaggerated figures. Picasso absorbed that sense
of drama and, I think, structural distortion.
You can see this mastery of form in his early
output from the mid -1890s, where he proves his
academic pedigree. Oh, absolutely. We see the
pure academic realism in paintings like the First
Communion from 1896, depicting his sister Lola.
But the one that really stunned the critics was
the portrait of his aunt. Portrait of Aunt Peppa.
Yes, also from 1896. This piece, completed when
he was just 15, has been lauded as, without a
doubt, one of the greatest portraits in the whole
history of Spanish painting. It shows an almost
unsettling psychological penetration and an absolute
command of light and shadow. So he proved he
could play the academic game flawlessly. And
once he proved it, he immediately started to
break the mold. The transition begins very quickly.
How so? By 1897. we see a shift towards symbolist
influence. He's moving away from naturalistic
color in favor of dramatic violet and green tones.
Then, as the century turns from 1899 to 1900,
he enters his modernist phase. So he's absorbing
everything around him. He's sponge. He's incorporating
influences from Toulouse -Lautrec's decadent
Parisian nightlife, the pre -Raphaelite intensity
of Rossetti, the symbolist darkness of Munch,
all filtered through that dramatic distortion
he learned from El Greco. And this absorption
culminates in his first trip to Paris in 1900,
which fundamentally changes his trajectory. Paris
was the center of the universe for art. He was
desperately poor there, sharing an apartment
with the journalist Max Jacob. The conditions
were so dire that during the winter they actually
resorted to burning some of his earliest drawings
and sketches just to keep the apartment warm.
Imagine burning your own work to survive. That
period of struggle must have instilled a fierce
drive for distinction. And this leads to his
first major act of professional self -creation,
dropping the name Ruiz. It was a strategic conscious
choice. He transitioned from signing his works
Pablo Ruiz Picasso to simply Picasso. Ruiz was
a common, anonymous Spanish surname. So he needed
to stand out. He did. His Catalan friends, who
naturally used his less common maternal surname,
encouraged the change. By adopting Picasso, he
ensured that his identity was unique. memorable,
and absolutely unmistakable as he stepped onto
the world stage. And the change becomes official
right at the beginning of the new century. Yes.
The first issue of RT Jovena magazine he co -founded
in Madrid in 1901 was the first public platform
where he officially signed his work simply as
Picasso. He had shed his father's identity and
created his own brand, perfectly timed for the
dawn of his groundbreaking periods. That new,
distinct name acts like a clean slate, perfectly
setting the stage for the dramatic emotional
shifts of the first decade of the 20th century.
We move now into the foundational periods that
laid the groundwork for Cubism. And we begin
with the one that is synonymous with pathos.
The blue period? From 1901 to 1904. It's defined
by a restrictive palette of somber shades of
blue and blue -green, used almost monochromatically.
And this wasn't just an aesthetic choice, was
it? It was driven by profound tragedy and social
awareness? Precisely. The dominant mood of melancholy
was directly triggered by the suicide of his
close friend, Charles Casagmas, who shot himself
over an unrequited love in 1901. Picasso was
heartbroken. This personal mourning combined
with the stark realization of social poverty
during a trip through Spain. So his subject matter
shifts entirely to reflect this emotional landscape.
The world literally looked blue to him. It did.
He focuses intensely on the marginalized. The
figures of the doleful, the prostitutes, the
beggars, and gaunt mothers clutching children.
Works like the old guitarist are perfect examples,
showing a wretched blind man whose angular body
is rendered in these chilling, elongated blue
tones. The theme of blindness, as you noted,
is central here. It suggests not just physical
affliction, but profound social or spiritual
despair. Yes, we see it in the frugal repast,
an etching that shows two figures, one blind,
one sight a bit emaciated, sharing a bare table.
It's a crucial emotional chapter, but Picasso,
ever the quick change artist, doesn't linger.
No, he never does. By 1904, the mood shifts entirely
into the rose period. This change is palpable.
The desolate streets give way to the atmosphere
of the traveling circus. And the color palette
follows suit, lightening dramatically. We move
from the chilling, somber blues and greens to
optimistic oranges, pinks, and warmer earth tones.
And the subjects? The central subjects are the
saltimbanques, the circus people, acrobats, and
harlequins. This shift is often attributed to
a changing personal life and the beginning of
his warm romantic relationship with his first
significant mistress, Fernande Olivier. The harlequin
figure is particularly interesting. It's a tragicomic
symbol, the jester who makes others laugh while
carrying his own pain. It becomes a profoundly
personal symbol for Picasso himself, the transient
artist, moving between worlds, perhaps masking
an inner vulnerability beneath a dazzling exterior.
It's during this Rose period, too, that his professional
standing solidifies dramatically. Right. And
this is thanks to his connection with key American
patrons. I'm talking about Leo and Gertrude Stein,
of course. Gertrude Stein in particular became
his principal patron. She acquired many of his
works and exhibited them in her celebrated informal
salon in Paris. This wasn't just about sales.
It was about prestige and intellectual validation.
And that salon was a hub for everyone who was
anyone in the art world. Exactly. It was at one
of her gatherings in 1905 that Picasso met the
established master of modern color, Henri Matisse.
That meeting sparked what the sources called
a lifelong fruitful rivalry. It did. Matisse
was the leader of Fauvism, the wild beasts, who
prioritized pure, vibrant color over drawing
and perspective. Seeing Matisse's daring use
of color certainly motivated Picasso, who was
still refining his drawing -based approach, to
push further into radical styles. But the true
catalyst for the revolution that would follow
was not a person, it was an artifact. It was.
This brings us to 1907, the African art influence,
and the start of proto -Cubism with the explosive
painting, La Demoiselle d 'Avignon. This painting
is the moment modern art detonated. It was a
confrontation with the history of Western painting,
a five -figure composition of female nudes. Initially,
the three figures on the left were influenced
by Iberian sculpture's simple monumental forms.
But then the sources mentioned his visit to the
Ethnographic Museum at Palais de Trocadero. Yes,
in June 1907, Picasso visited the museum dedicated
to indigenous art. He was profoundly struck by
the power of African artifacts, particularly
the masks. What fascinated him was the functional
nature of the masks. Functional how? They weren't
just art to be looked at. They were tools for
ritual, shields against the unknown, a way to
channel power. And he immediately went back and
repainted the two figures on the right, giving
them those shocking, aggressive, and geometrically
fractured mask -like faces. Exactly. He had shattered
the Western tradition of representing the female
form as soft, idealized, and passive. He replaced
it with something primal, geometric, and jarring.
The reaction from his friends and acquaintances,
including Matisse, was near universal shock and
revulsion. Matisse angrily dismissed it as a
hoax. Why was the painting so offensive to his
peers? It wasn't just the subject matter, was
it? No, it was the abandonment of a single perspective.
The figures are fractured and seen from multiple
angles simultaneously. It was perceived as a
violent, ugly assault on aesthetic sensibilities.
So controversial that he didn't even show it
for years. No, he actually kept the canvas rolled
up in his studio and refused to exhibit Les Demoiselles
publicly until 1916, nearly a decade later. Yet
it's those formal ideas hammered out in that
proto -Cubist confrontation that lead directly
into the full -blown Cubist movement. And that
leads us into the heart of the revolution, Cubism.
From 1909 to 1919, this is where Picasso and
Georges Braque truly established themselves as
co -founders of what many consider the single
most important movement of the 20th century.
We break cubism into two main phases. Let's start
with the first, analytic cubism, running roughly
from 1909 to 1912. The name analytic implies
a rigorous intellectual process. It was defined
by a systematic analysis of objects. The artist
took objects, say a guitar, a bottle, or a person,
and broke them down into component geometric
planes and facets. So instead of seeing an object
as a snapshot from one angle, they were trying
to represent the object as it exists in space
and time, seen from multiple viewpoints simultaneously,
like walking around it and painting all views
at once. Precisely. It's an attempt to render
the concept of the object. not just its appearance.
To maintain this rigor, they reduced their palette
drastically to monochrome, brownish, and neutral
colors. Why get rid of the color? It forced the
viewer to focus entirely on the structural complexity
and the intellectual puzzle of spatial representation.
Works like the portrait of Daniel Henry Kahnweiler
are key here, often looking like shattered glass.
And their collaboration was so close that their
works during this time are often considered almost
indistinguishable. They were working through
a visual problem together. But cubism couldn't
remain purely academic and monochrome. By 1912,
they shift into synthetic cubism, and this transition
involves an invention that changed art forever.
Collage. Right, from analysis to synthesis, building
up instead of breaking down. Yes. They developed
the technique of pasting cut paper fragments,
newspaper, wallpaper, patterned oilcloth, directly
into the compositions. This introduction of real
-world materials blurred the line between art
and life. And the piece that stands as the foundational
cubist collage, perhaps the first true assemblage,
is Still Life with Chair Caning from 1912. That
work is revolutionary. It uses oil paint and
printed oil cloth, designed to look like chair
caning edged with actual rope. The caning is
flat, but it's meant to represent texture and
depth. So it's a game of what's real and what's
represented. A total game. It introduces trompe
l 'oeil, trick of the eye, but simultaneously
negates it by using actual everyday material.
This forced the viewer to confront the nature
of representation itself. Now, within this broader
cubist period, a micro style emerged around 1915
to 1917, sometimes called crystal cubism. It's
defined by extreme geometric clarity. This style.
characterized by highly geometric and minimalist
renditions of objects, pipes, glasses, was sometimes
described as looking like hard -edged, square
-cut diamonds. It's seen by many historians as
Picasso's strategic response to the criticisms
he was facing at the time. Wait, criticism for
what? He was the leading voice of modern art.
Yes, but as we'll see shortly, Picasso had already
begun experimenting with classical representational
styles at the same time he was painting Cubist
pieces. Some critics saw this as a defection,
a sign he was abandoning the rigor of the movement.
Ah, so crystal Cubism was him doubling down.
It reasserted that rigor, emphasizing the pure
crystalline structure and intellectual foundation
of the Cubist analysis, is an act of artistic
self -defense. But underpinning all this formal
innovation was chaos in his personal life, right?
He leaves Fernand Olivier for a woman named Eva
Gould. Marcel Humbert, known as Eva Gould. Picasso
was deeply in love with her, and in a fantastic
fusion of the personal and the abstract, he included
declarations of his love for Eva, like my Jolie,
my pretty, directly into the geometric planes
of his synthetic cubist works. A love note hidden
in a puzzle. But tragedy strikes again, mirroring
the end of the blue period. Tragically, Eva died
from illness in 1915 at only 30 years old, devastating
Picasso, who had already suffered the loss of
his sister and his friend, Casa James. And right
in the middle of this immense creative output
and personal tragedy, the bizarre high -stakes
crisis of the Mona Lisa theft erupts in 1911.
This is truly a spectacular moment of celebrity
drama. The Mona Lisa had been stolen from the
Louvre. Initially, the police arrested the poet
Guillaume Apollinaire. And Apollinaire was his
friend. His close friend. The connection was
an unscrupulous artist named Jerry Piret, who
had a history of stealing ancient Iberian artifacts
from the Louvre. And Picasso had bought those
stolen artifacts. He had. He had acquired two
stolen Iberian sculptures from Piret, which ironically
had influenced the faces of the early figures
in Les Demoiselles d 'Avignon. So under intense
police pressure, Apollinaire actually implicated
his close friend, Picasso, revealing that Picasso
had the stolen goods. So Picasso is arrested,
questioned by the police, and facing potential
conviction and deportation back to Spain. How
did he handle the interrogation? Fearing the
worst, in an act he later regretted, Picasso
denied knowing Apollinaire. The two men were
held for a time, but eventually both were cleared
of any involvement in the Mona Lisa theft itself.
But the sheer chaos of being entangled in the
theft of the world's most famous painting while
simultaneously inventing cubism is a testament
to the dramatic high -wire act of his life. And
speaking of chaos, the world is plunging into
World War I. Braque and other French colleagues
are mobilized, but Picasso, as a Spanish citizen,
was not required to fight. That's a huge deal
for art history. Crucial. While the Cubist partnership
fractured as Braque and Durain went to the front,
Picasso continued painting uninterrupted throughout
the war years. His work grew more somber, but
his momentum never ceased. This allowed him to
maintain his leading position. When the war finally
ended, his life underwent yet another dramatic
change that pulled him away from the bohemian
poverty of places like the Bateau Lavoie and
into a world of wealth and formal society. That
shift brings us into the neoclassical period,
covering 1919 through the mid -1920s. This aligns
with a broader post -war movement across Europe
known as the Return to Order. A search for stability
after the chaos. Yes. And Picasso participated
fully, producing work in a clear neoclassical
style, recalling the purity of Ingris and the
mastery of Raphael. What specifically triggered
this move into high society? In 1917, Picasso
became involved with Serge Diaghilev's famed
Ballet Russes, designing costumes and sets. While
working on the ballet parade in Rome, he met
the Russian ballerina Olga Khokhlova. They married
in 1918. And Olga came from a wealthy, established
background. Entirely different from his world.
She insisted on formal dinner parties, country
estates, and the company of the Parisian wealthy
elite. This lifestyle conflicted profoundly with
Picasso's innate, restless, bohemian nature,
leading to massive, ongoing marital conflict.
They did have one son, Paulo Picasso, who ironically
grew up to be a motorcycle racer and his father's
chauffeur, a blend of speed and service. during
this neoclassical phase we see him painting those
monumental figures large weighty seemingly solid
beings yes large imposing works like the massive
three women at the spring and three musicians
both from 1921 but this raises a fascinating
question How does one reconcile the Picasso,
who is simultaneously painting analytical fractured
cubist puzzles, with the Picasso, who is painting
clear, volumetric, and massive neoclassical figures?
That's the genius of his methodology. He was
never beholden to one style. But as the 1920s
advanced, the formal solidity of neoclassicism
couldn't contain his inner turbulence forever.
The radical energy returned in the mid -1920s,
when surrealism emerged as the next great modern
movement, focused on the unconscious mind and
dreams. In 1925, the movement's leading writer,
Andre Breton, famously declared Picasso one of
ours in a defining article. Now, we know Picasso
never fully adopted the core surrealist method.
What was that core method and why did he reject
it? The core method was pure psychic on homotism.
The idea of creating art without any conscious
thought or control, directly channeling the subconscious
mind -like automatic writing, but visual. And
Picasso was too much of a control freak for that.
He was a master of line and form. He always wanted
to be the driver. He rejected that total abdication
of control. So he didn't adopt the methodology,
but he certainly adopted the vocabulary. Absolutely.
The movement revived his attraction to primitivism,
violence, and intense eroticism, all themes that
had been suppressed during the formal neoclassical
years. His imagery explodes with violence, psychic
fears, and a savage eroticism. And if the neoclassical
phase was defined by the prim Olga, the surrealist
period is defined by his golden muse. Marie -Thérèse
Walter. He met her in 1927 when she was just
17, near the Galeries Lafayette department store
in Paris. He was 45 and still married to Olga.
So this was a secret affair. A long secret affair.
Marie Therese became the subject of his most
sensuous and celebrated surrealist pieces, including
the famous Le Reven Girl Before a Mirror. She
is the source of those colorful, voluptuous curved
figures that dominated his work in the early
1930s. He later fathered a daughter, Maya, with
her. She represented a physical and emotional
freedom that contrasted sharply with the formal
constraints of his marriage to Olga. But this
period also saw the introduction of a darker
mythological figure that reflected the artist's
own increasingly complex violent psychology.
The Minotaur. Yes. During the 1930s, the Minotaur,
the half -man, half -bull hybrid, replaced the
Harlequin as his common motif. It's an archetype
that embodies brute sexuality, violence, and
passion, serving as a potent symbol for Picasso's
own dual nature. The creative genius and the
possessive tyrant. Exactly. This creature is
featured extensively in his celebrated series
of etchings, The Vollard Suite. So we have the
golden -haired muse and the monstrous alter ego
all set against a backdrop of increasing political
instability. That turbulence leads us directly
into the period where his personal expression
confronts the global stage. And that confrontation
is Section 5, The Political Awakening, focused
almost entirely around the creation of the most
recognizable anti -war icon in history, Gornika.
Before this, Picasso was generally apolitical
in his art. What was the impetus that forced
him to finally respond to the politics of the
day? The Spanish Civil War. When it began in
1936, it was the first time Picasso felt compelled
to create an overtly political work, a condemnation
of Franco and the fascists. And the final horrifying
impetus came on April 26, 1937, with the German
bombing of the civilian city of Guernica. That
massive canvas, 25 feet wide, embodies the brutality,
the suffering and the hopelessness of that attack.
And though the viewers were desperate for a narrative
roadmap, Picasso famously refused to provide
one. He was adamant. He said, it isn't up to
the painter to define the symbols. The public
who look at the picture must interpret the symbols
as they understand them. He didn't want the work
to be reduced to mere allegory. He wanted the
visceral horror to resonate globally. And the
painting itself immediately became a powerful
political tool entrusted to the Museum of Modern
Art in New York. That trust was a direct political
statement. Picasso explicitly requested that
Guernica remain outside Spain until democracy
and liberty were fully restored. It was a visible
symbol of anti -fascist resistance and political
exile for over four decades. It only returned
to Spain in 1981. After Franco's death and the
country's transition back to a constitutional
monarchy. Crucially, this period was heavily
influenced by his romantic partner at the time,
surrealist photographer Dora Maar. Dora Maar
was not just a muse. She was a French anti -fascist
activist and a talented photographer in her own
right. Her influence on the work is profound,
starting with the very palette. Black and white.
Yes. She likely suggested the monochrome scheme,
which was a radical departure from his usual
colorful style, but reflected her photographic
practice, giving the painting a journalistic,
immediate quality. And she was physically involved
in the creation, wasn't she? She was a collaborator
in the studio, having exclusive access during
the entire process. She documented its evolution
through a series of famous photographs. And our
sources confirm that, at Picasso's direction,
Dora Maar actually painted parts of the dying
horse herself. Her engagement, both artistic
and political, was absolutely pivotal to the
finished work. The Spanish Civil War quickly
bled into World War II. Picasso remained in Paris
during the German occupation, even though his
art was considered degenerate by the Nazis. He
stayed, a defiant artistic presence in an occupied
city. His art didn't fit the Nazi ideal, so he
was banned from exhibiting publicly, and the
Gestapo frequently harassed him, often raiding
his studio. Which brings us to perhaps the most
legendary, defiant exchange of his career, the
one about Guernica. Yes. Upon seeing a photograph
of the massive painting during a search of his
apartment, a Gestapo officer asked, Picasso's
response was immediate and scathing, Despite
the threat and the prohibition on casting bronze
essential for sculpture, He continued working
in secret, using smuggled bronze to produce major
pieces like Still Life with Guitar and The Haunting
the Charnel House. It speaks to a relentless,
almost desperate need for expression that if
he couldn't sculpt or paint freely, he would
turn to other means. He did. During the war years,
he turned to writing. producing over 300 poems
and two full length plays. His creative engine
simply could not be shut down, regardless of
political oppression. The sheer scope of this
wartime output, combined with the stylistic shifts
before it, was finally brought to the American
public right on the cusp of the war. Thanks to
the MoMA retrospective in New York in 1939, 1940.
This exhibition, organized by director Alfred
Barr, was a landmark event that truly lionized
Picasso in the United States and cemented his
status as the unchallenged master of the modern
age. However, the critical reaction was quite
revealing. It was mixed, even hostile in some
quarters. Why, after decades of success, was
his work still disturbing critics? Critics at
the time were still conditioned to expect stylistic
consistency from a master. Picasso's multiplicity
of styles, seeing cubism, neoclassicism, and
surrealism all side by side, was deeply unsettling.
It shattered the established notion of a coherent
artistic identity. Exactly. One critic famously
summed up the confusion by calling him both a
charlatan and genius at the same time. The sheer
variety felt like inconsistency rather than adaptability.
That ambiguity is central to his final decades.
Let's move into his late style, personal turmoil,
and his political identity, covering the years
from 1944 until his death in 1973. This period
is defined by intense productivity, the continuation
of his radical style shifts, and, regrettably,
and cruelty in his personal life, often linked
to the intense age disparity in his relationships,
beginning with Francoise Gillot. Gillot was an
art student, 40 years his junior, whom he began
seeing in 1944, right after the liberation of
Paris. She was the successor to Dora Moore, and
they had two children together, Claude and Paloma.
The relationship highlighted the intense psychological
danger of being close to him. Gillot is unique
because she was the only woman who successfully
chose to leave Picasso, departing in 1953. She
cited his abusive treatment and myriad infidelities.
Her descriptions of the man are chilling. She
famously wrote in her memoir that he believed
he was God. And in their discussions on women,
she quoted him as saying that women are machines
for suffering. She also noted he categorized
them simply as goddesses and doormats. It paints
a picture of intense possessiveness and narcissism
that she bravely broke free from. But even while
he was with Gillot, the infidelities were constant.
including a brief six -week affair with Genevieve
Laporte, who was four years younger than Gillot.
As he moved into his 70s, this age gap and psychological
tension found its way directly into his art.
The sources mentioned that his paintings frequently
featured an old, grotesque dwarf as the lover
of a beautiful young model. Yes, the depiction
of the grotesque, often clown -like, older male
figure next to a vibrant, idealized young female
became a recurring motif. a brutal, self -aware
commentary on his own late -life reality and
desires. Shifting gears completely, this period
also marks his most formal political commitment,
joining the French Communist Party in 1944. This
commitment was highly complex and often contradictory.
He was celebrated by the Soviet bloc, receiving
the Stalin Peace Prize in 1950 and the Lenin
Peace Prize in 1962. However, his communism was
often viewed skeptically by his friends. His
dealer, Daniel Henry Kahnweiler, called his alignment
sentimental rather than deeply ideological, suggesting
Picasso wasn't versed in Marxist theory. And
Picasso himself seemed to acknowledge the tension
between his artistic freedom and political dogma.
He did. He stated, I am a communist and my painting
is communist painting. But if I were a shoemaker.
I would not necessarily hammer my shoes in a
special way to show my politics. He was making
it clear that his revolutionary art style was
not dictated by political realism. And we see
that tension play out specifically with his portrait
of Joseph Stalin. Right. When he produced a portrait
of Stalin in 1953, it drew severe criticism from
the French Communist Party because it was insufficiently
realistic. They demanded the academic realism
typical of Soviet art. Yet Picasso had delivered
an abstract, expressionistic rendering. He was
too radical, even for his political allies. Nonetheless,
his political identity yielded some of the most
enduring symbols of the 20th century. Without
a doubt. His 1949 lithograph dove was used for
the World Peace Council and quickly became the
globally recognized dove of peace, a massive,
universally understood symbol. He also created
the powerful and overtly political painting massacre
in Korea in 1951. As he entered his final decades,
he moved away from inventing new forms and into
a phase of deep artistic dialogue with the past.
The 1950s saw him produce massive reinterpretations
of the old masters. He completed lengthy series
based on Velazquez's Las Meninas, engaging with
issues of light and composition. He also reinterpreted
works by Delacroix, Goya, and Manet. It was a
fascinating process. The man who had shattered
tradition. was now entering into a formal conversation
with it. His personal life stabilized after he
met Jacqueline Roque, a salesgirl at a pottery
store. They married in 1961 and were together
until his death. And in 1967, his massive global
impact took a physical public form in the United
States with the unveiling of the Chicago Picasso,
a 50 -foot public sculpture. The figure itself
remains famously ambiguous. Picasso only offered
a brief explanation, claiming the ambiguous form
represented the head of an Afghan hound named
Kabul. But what's more important than the subject
is the gesture. He refused the $100 ,000 payment
for the work, donating the sculpture to the people
of Chicago. Finally, we come to his last creative
burst, the prolific torrent of work we mentioned
at the start, between 1968 and 1971. This final
outpouring saw him produce hundreds of copperplate
etchings and paintings. They were daring, wildly
colorful, and intensely expressive. However,
upon their initial showing, the critical community
almost unanimously dismissed them. They were
called things like pornographic fantasies of
an impotent old man and the slapdash works of
an artist who was past his prime. A profound
misjudgment. The world wanted the Picasso they
understood, the one who painted cubism or neoclassicism.
They couldn't immediately grasp this raw, often
frantic expressionism. It took decades for critics
to catch up. Yes, to fully reassess these final
works, eventually realizing they were necessary
precursors, actually prefiguring the rise of
neo -expressionism in the 1980s. relentless pace
of creation carried right up until the very end.
Absolutely. Picasso died on 8 April 1973 in Mugins,
France. He was 91, succumbing to a heart attack
brought on by pulmonary edema. He had been entertaining
friends the night before and had been painting
until 3 a .m. A man who died with the work ethic
of a 30 -year -old. But his death triggered years
of chaos, all because of one simple fatal omission.
He died without a will. The omission of a will
led to a huge, protracted, and incredibly bitter
feud over his estimated $240 million estate.
At the time, French law only recognized Paolo,
his son with Olga Kuklova, as legitimate. So
his other children had to sue for their inheritance.
His illegitimate children, Maya, Claude, and
Paloma, had to fight through the courts. eventually
winning the legal right to share the estate,
despite fierce opposition from his widow, Jacqueline,
and his legitimate son, Paolo. The conflict was
so intense and bitter that it resulted in some
of the most tragic episodes associated with his
life, the so -called Trail of Female Carnage.
This is the part of the story that requires gravity
and reflection. The human cost of being in Picasso's
orbit was immense. The women who were closest
to him suffered immensely. His widow, Jacqueline
Roque, and his former lover, Marie -Therese Walter,
both tragically died by suicide years later.
His first wife, Olga Koklova, and his partner,
Dora Maar, both succumbed to severe nervous breakdowns.
And the immediate family tragedy didn't end there
either. No. His grandson, Paul Blito, committed
suicide by ingesting bleach when Jacqueline Roque
barred him from attending Picasso's funeral in
1973. And Paolo, Picasso's legitimate son, died
from alcoholism and depression just two years
later in 1975. It is a heartbreaking and terrible
postscript to a life of immense creative power,
forcing us to consider the dual nature of the
Minotaur figure he adopted, the genius and the
beast. As his granddaughter Marina Picasso later
noted, his genius came at a terrible price for
those who shared his life. Before we look at
the wider global legacy, let's circle back to
his specific technical methods. Across those
50 years of constant change, what were the consistent
technical threads? A few things stand out as
constants. Despite his intense use of color in
many periods, he fundamentally relied on drawing
or line rather than subtle color variations to
create form and space. His work always began
with the line. He also constantly experimented
with the physical medium itself. Meaning he wasn't
afraid to use non -traditional materials in his
fine art. Exactly. He sometimes added sand to
his paint to vary the texture, giving the canvas
an almost sculptural quality. And a fascinating
analysis in 2012, using nanoprobe technology
on the red armchair, confirmed that he frequently
used common house paint. So no snobbery about
materials? None. He was always willing to subvert
traditional art materials to achieve his expressive
goals. And finally, that almost obsessive habit
of dating his works? often down to the day, which
is a gift to art historians. It reinforces the
idea that Picasso's art constitutes a vast pictorial
autobiography, giving critics and viewers an
almost day by day timeline that directly links
his output to his emotional state and current
relationship. He was providing posterity with
a comprehensive journal in paint. That complete
record sets the stage for our final look at his
unparalleled global impact. The first massive
consequence of his death beyond the family feud
was on the world's museums. The inheritance crisis
resulted in a revolutionary solution. Since he
died without a will, his heirs had to pay astronomical
death duties to the French state. Instead of
liquidating the collection, they paid these duties
in kind. in the form of thousands of Picasso's
own works. And pieces he had collected. Yes,
and pieces from other masters, including Matisse.
This collection forms the immense and representative
core of the Musée Picasso in Paris, arguably
the greatest single repository of his work. And
of course, there's the Museo Picasso in Barcelona,
which focuses on his early years. Demonstrating
that firm grounding in classical techniques from
the 1890s we discussed earlier. But there is
one utterly unique moment in his legacy that
speaks to how deeply his art resonated with ordinary
people around the world, transcending the elite
art market, the Basel vote. This happened in
Basel, Switzerland in 1968. A local Swiss insurance
company, needing to cover reimbursements after
an air disaster, decided to sell two of his paintings
that were held at the Kunstmuseum Basel. And
the city didn't want to lose them. The local
population was outraged. They successfully petitioned
and voted on a local referendum to raise the
public funds necessary to purchase the Picassos
for the museum. This is the first time in Democratic
history that a population voted directly on the
purchase of public art. That's phenomenal. How
did Picasso react when he heard about this massive
popular outpouring of support? He was immensely
touched. Informed of the decision, Picasso donated
three additional paintings and a sketch to the
city and was later made an honorary citizen of
Bessel. It's a powerful story about art ownership
belonging to the people. Moving to the purely
commercial side, it's safe to say Picasso remains
the market's king. He is consistently the top
-ranked artist by auction sales. His paintings
routinely set and break records. Garçon à la
pipe hit $104 million in 2004. Nude, Green Leaves,
and Bust reached $106 .5 million in 2010. And
his Women of Algiers set an incredible record
at $179 .3 million in 2015. Unfortunately, where
there is that much value and that large an oeuvre,
there is inevitably theft. Tragically so. More
of his paintings have been stolen than those
of any other artist in history. In 2012, over
1 ,100 of his works were listed as stolen. With
such high stakes and such a massive body of work,
the process of verifying authenticity must be
incredibly complicated, especially given the
family feuds. It was a nightmare scenario for
years. After his death, the disagreements among
his heirs led to dual competing authentication
methods. To simplify and unify this chaotic situation,
four of his surviving heirs established the Picasso
administration in 2012 to handle all official
authentication requests. A necessary step to
manage the legacy. Absolutely. Claude served
as the legal administrator until 2023 when his
sister Paloma took over. This formal body is
essential for managing the legacy of an artist
whose output was so vast and scattered. He truly
left an immense footprint, not just in museums,
but in global pop culture, too. He certainly
did. He's become an archetype. He's been portrayed
by major actors, notably Anthony Hopkins in the
film Surviving Picasso and Antonio Banderas in
the Genius television series. He features in
Woody Allen's film Midnight in Paris and Steve
Martin's play Picasso at the Lab in Agile. So
as we wrap up our deep dive into the man whose
name is now synonymous with modern art, what
is the core insight we should walk away with?
How do we summarize this life of relentless change?
The core insight is that Picasso's genius lay
not in finding a single style but in the intentional
rejection of stylistic stasis. He was defined
by perpetual motion and stylistic appropriation,
using his art, that massive, meticulously dated
pictorial autobiography, as a means of expressing
his immediate emotional and political world.
So he didn't just adapt to modern movements.
He used his relationships, his politics, and
his sheer volume of production to define them,
even if the result was perceived as chaotic.
And that concept brings us back to the ultimate
irony of his final years. Though he was lionized
as the greatest living artist by 1939, his last
massive and highly expressive outpouring of work
was initially dismissed as the crude slapdash
fantasies of an old man past his prime. The world
thought they had defined Picasso. But he had
already shifted to a place that critics couldn't
yet understand. And the ultimate vindication
of his final style is that future critics later
redefine those works, the ones called crude and
excessive, as the daring, necessary precursors
to the entire neo -expressionist movement. So
here's the thought for you to carry forward,
directly inspired by Picasso's trajectory. What
does it mean for an artist's output to be so
massive, so aggressively personal, and so rapidly
produced that it takes decades for the world
to catch up? seemingly crude, excessive, or confusing
works of contemporary art today might future
critics eventually redefine as the necessary
daring precursors to the next great movement.
Picasso showed us that the true measure of innovation
is often only revealed when the world finally
stops demanding evolution and simply accepts
radical constant change.