Word: picassos
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...ancient crone sweeping and cackling, the commedia dell'arte clowns, the quartet of nude women gently interweaving in a dance, the men employing a variety of bird noises, the eerily believable copulation between a girl and a skeleton also bring to mind Cocteau and Gertrude Stein and Picasso and Diaghilev. If more explicitly violent and more frequently nude than necessary, Miracolo is nonetheless a fitting tribute to what was freshest and most original in early 20th century art. Recalling it, audiences may well end as Cinderella does, despite her tribulations, in Into The Woods. Once on the throne, she wants...
There is no sign in the 558 pages of Picasso: Creator and Destroyer that Huffington has given a day's close thought to Picasso's art -- or anyone else's. To her, Picasso is mainly interesting as a celebrity with an odious character: a user, all but incapable of real affection, destructive to his friends, brutal to his women, cruelly indifferent to his children. Some of this is, of course, true, and it has not been a secret for years. The Big P.'s personal life was no oil painting, and Huffington documents it with zeal, leaving...
...while inverting some earlier writing about Picasso -- hagiography of the goat god, by members of his claque -- Huffington produces something just as hokey. She comes on like a cross between Marabel Morgan and Mme. Defarge. She is out to avenge all of the women in his life -- "goddesses and doormats," in Picasso's nasty phrase -- except his late widow Jacqueline Roque, whom she denounces. Her biography becomes an interminable pecking session, to the point where she even finds fault with Picasso for becoming rich. "It took a lot of money to keep Picasso in bohemia," sneers the author...
...does find something for her candied prose to cloy on. "He stirred in me all the emotions present in an intimate relationship," pants Huffington, who never met Picasso. "I was seduced by his magnetism, his intensity, that mysterious quality of inexhaustibility bursting forth from the transfixing stare of his black-marble eyes as much as from his work . . . Picasso was for the women and for many of the men in his life both the irresistibly sensual and seductive Don Juan and the divine Krishna." Add Dallas to Callas, and presto: Phallus...
Huffington even comes up with a gay period for Picasso. In 1898, she claims, during a visit to the mountains near Horta, he fell in love with an unnamed gypsy boy. The high-sierra idyll is padded with imagined dialogue and trills of swoony prose, but not one scrap of solid evidence is given...