Believe it or not, in the midst of that outpouring of ridiculous blogging, I had time to watch the movie Surviving Picasso last week. A pretty good flick. I was expecting it to be more painful to watch, like the movie Camille Claudel which depressed me for days. I like movies to have something that makes me glad I watched them, and Francoise Gilot's strength and “survival” of her relationship with Picasso was worth the pain of the horrible relationship. (Anthony Hopkins does manage to pull this character off, by the way, although it's still hard not to think of him as the stiff British butler in one of my favorite movies.)
On the subject of Picasso, what is it about a great artist that pulls us in? That is probably the easy question. Charisma, the magical world they inhabit, the presence of genius. But what is it about a great artist that so often rejects healthy relationships? Are they only able to maintain a relationship with their own inner world? Does it threaten that world too much to connect to another’s?
Picasso has never been my favorite artist, although of course his enormous fame and genius require my attention. However, I never connect to his paintings emotionally the way I do with others – they strike me as impressive intellectually but rather cold.
I plan to continue learning about him. There’s so much to do!