Word: picassos
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...buttock or a breast, the petals of a flower rising on its stalk, or-in some of the drawings-the black propped lid of a grand piano. The body image is confirmed particularly in a work like Untitled #45, which is haunted by the swollen, vegetative forms of 1930s Picasso, rather than 1914 Matisse. Of course, the drawings also seem more intimate than the previous Ocean Parks simply because they are drawings-smaller and more provisional, the receptacles of experiment...
Toward the end of his career, Picasso observed that it had taken him all his life to learn to draw like a child. It was one of the master's few unoriginal remarks Virginia Woolf, rereading Nicholas Nickleby in 1939, noted."Dickens owes his astonishing power to make characters alive to the fact that he saw them as a child sees them." And in his 1924 Surrealist Manifesto, André Breton declared, "Childhood is the nearest to true life...
Books on Pablo Picasso have the good sense to dwell on this century's greatest artist and the misfortune of having to live up to him. Many do not. But Picasso: The Early Years (Rizzoli; 559 pages; $160) by Josep Palau i Fabre succeeds in conveying the explosive creativity of its subject. The volume's 1,587 illustrations (361 in color) provide the fullest look anyone but a diligent art historian will ever have of Picasso's formative period. He was never an apprentice. In his early teens he could do copies of Velásquez...
...member of the Communist Party since 1942. The group's only significant achievement is the modest march it organized on Oct. 25 in Paris. On the ground floor of Langignon's offices in a working-class section of Paris is a collection of posters that includes onetime Member Pablo Picasso's sketch of the dove that became the familiar peace emblem. "Picasso said he didn't have enough time to think up a symbol," Langignon recalls. Suddenly French Communist Writer Louis Aragon reached into Picasso's cluttered folder, picked up a lithograph of a pigeon, and said...
This is a misapprehension on the order of considering Picasso merely a Spanish painter, or Joyce a parochial Irish Catholic writer. The best British composers speak an international language-inflected, to be sure, by characteristic clipped accents and at times marked by a stiff-upper-lip emotional restraint-as surely as do the German Beethoven, the Italian Verdi, the Frenchman Debussy or the Russian Tchaikovsky: men who transcended the boundaries of their birth and made fellow countrymen out of the world's citizens...