Tag Archives: Pablo Picasso

Picasso’s Muse Marie-Thérèse Explored at Gagosian

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Marie-Thérèse Walter was Picasso’s lover, if not his wife, for most of her life. The exhibition Picasso and Marie-Thérèse: L’Amour Fou up at Gagosian through June 25th is a museum-quality exploration of Picasso’s many iterations of the blonde, Grecian-nosed woman using works borrowed from private collections and prestigious museums. The likelihood of seeing such a gathering, especially some of the privately owned works again is rare, a reason in itself to visit.



The works themselves are of mixed quality, but there are some truly fantastic pieces in themselves. What I enjoyed even more was the story the show told; a romantic one of continuing if not untroubled love. Marie-Thérèse became Picasso’s mistress at 17, bore him a child, and committed suicide after his death, 50 years after they met. He painted her throughout his life.


“I see you before me my lovely landscape MT and never tire of looking at you, stretched out on your back in the sand, my dear MT I love you. MT my devouring rising sun. You are always on me, MT mother of sparkling perfumes pungent with star jasmines. I love you more than the taste of your mouth, more than your look, more than your hands, more than your whole body, more and more and more and more than all my love for you will ever be able to love and I sign Picasso.” – Letter to Marie-Thérèse from Picasso

A great slideshow on the WSJ site shows many of the pieces.

Ravelled Reviews

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Paul Cezanne, Still Life with Fruit Dish



In honor of Cubism, Gertrude Stein, and Cezanne, a fractured ravels in review that attempts to document the act of ravelling. (Unfragmented links included).

Yesterday, it was Cubism, Visual and Literal, without Gertrude Stein’s mug in the end, before some explicit in odd ways not explicit enough notes on Butt in ASS , dear lord what a title for an exhibition, and horses, really big horses and what glitter at Jack the Pelican and why would they have named the gallery that, whose full name is Jack the Pelican Presents, and then in between is smushed a really great piece written by Richard Serra– Had I dressed it up better, images and all, maybe more people would have read it, my eyes are caked with sleep, before, before is so long ago, and my finger hurts from a paper cut given by a file folder, who knew such barbarities existed, so then here we are, we’re reviewing ravels, but what the hell happened this week, do I drink too much that I have the memory of a goldfish, but wait–I’ll check, oh dear, I really need a new website. And then i had written about loving my ‘hood, which terrible choice of word now strikes me as particularly annoying, and yet we must march on, although to note the accordion shop is choice, and so then- then now my boyfriend came into my room and did a flying ninja pose and told a work story, Gertrude didn’t have to deal with this, and so lastly I see I wrote about the High Line, which is nice, as I tell you, but maybe not so special it needs to be written about so much, but then I broke that cardinal.

Pablo Picasso, The Reservoir, Herta de Ebro

Images from the special exhibition on the fifth floor of MoMA, which leads you by the nose over to the room next door, for this savagery, savagery!:

Cubism, Visual and Literal

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Georges Braque, Bottle, Newspaper, Pipe, and Glass (1913)

A success, a success is alright when there are there rooms and no vacancies, a success is alright when there is a package, success is alright anyway and any curtain is wholesale. A curtain diminishes and an ample space shows varnish.

Louis Casimir Marcoussis, Still Life with Three Fish (1925)

One taste one tack, one taste one bottle, one taste one fish, one taste one barometer. This shows no distinguishing sign when there is a store.

Pablo Picasso, Table with Loaves and Bowl of Fruit (1909)

Any smile is stern and any coat is a sample. Is there any use in changing more doors than there are committees. This question is so often asked that squares show that they are blotters. It is so very agreeable to hear a voice and to see all the signs of that expression.

Georges Braque, Woman with Guitar (1914)

Cadences, real cadences, real cadences and a quiet color. Careful and curved, cake and sober, all accounts and mixture, a guess at anything is righteous, should there be a call there would be a voice.

Text from “Rooms” section of Gertrude Stein’s Tender Buttons (1914), in which convetional meaning becomes fractured, split apart, and reorganized.