March 11, 2022
In 1904, Pablo Picasso moved back to Paris and Paris worked its magic. He started doing colorful paintings of jugglers and acrobats in a traveling circus. His Family of Saltimbanques (itinerant circus performers) is a highlight of his Rose Period.
Some suggest that his Blue Period ended when he met Fernande Olivier. When she was 19 years old, she left her husband – who often abused her – and moved to Paris. She changed her name so that her husband could not find her. She met Picasso in 1904. Their relationship lasted seven years.
During this time he met Gertrude Stein, an American novelist, poet, playwright, and art collector (One of her most famous quotes is “There is no there, there,” which described a visit to the farm in Oakland, California where she grew up. The house had been razed and the farmland had developed into a commercial hub). Stein became one of his first collectors. In 1906 he painted her portrait. When someone commented that Stein didn't look like her portrait, Picasso replied, “She will.”
Gertrude Stein was one of the first Americans in Paris to respond with enthusiasm to the 20th century modernist revolution in European art. Gertrude arrived in Paris with her brother Leo in 1903.
Alongside her partner Alice B. Toklas, she would support many emerging artists – including Matisse, Cézanne, and Picasso. For Picasso in particular, this early patronage was vital to his later success.
Some of the first acquisitions made in 1904 included Gauguin’s “Sunflowers” and “Three Tahitians,” and Cézanne’s “Bathers.”
The first Picasso acquisition was a fairly conventional nude – “Young Girl with a Basket of Flowers” – but it caused considerable friction in the Stein household. Leo loved it, but Gertrude hated it: “something rather appalling in the drawing of the legs and the feet, something that repelled and shocked her.” They bought it for 150 francs ($800 today).
The piece obviously grew on her. It was the start of an extensive, almost unrivaled private collection of Picasso’s work by Gertrude Stein at a time when almost no one else was buying his paintings. Had she not started collecting Picasso’s work in those early years, it is possible that Picasso would have remained a struggling artist, swallowed up in the artistic sea that was Paris at the time, continuing to barter paintings.
In 1905-1906 Picasso painted Gertrude Stein’s portrait: after 80 or 90 sittings, the result did not resemble her in the slightest. Picasso’s response was to shrug. “Never mind,” he replied, “in the end she will manage to look just like it.” Today, it remains one of the most famous portraits that Picasso ever painted.
It was at the Stein salon that Picasso’s work was seen by a wide audience for the first time – an audience that included Etta and Claribel Cone. The Cones were American art collectors and before long, they too were buying and exhibiting Picasso’s work.
Before her death in 1949, Etta bequeathed their collection – one of the most important modern art collections of the 20th century – to The Baltimore Museum of Art.
It was also in the Stein studio that Picasso was first introduced to Henri Matisse, and the two artists would become lifelong friends as well as professional rivals.
One of Picasso’s most famous and popular images is his lithograph of a dove as a symbol of peace. But the dove was Matisse’s. Literally.
In the early 1900s, Matisse and Picasso were rivals for the affections Gertrude Stein and those of the modern artists of Paris. Picasso’s followers once plastered the walls of Montmartre with anti-Matisse graffiti like “Matisse does more harm than war!” Matisse responded by using the term “Cubism” to mock the art of Picasso and his followers, a label that would, of course, stick.
As they grew older, they grew closer. By the end of World War II, the old rivals had become great friends. Matisse kept a Picasso over his bedroom’s mantelpiece and Picasso displayed his Matisses in his studio. An engraver who did work for both of them said Picasso thought of Matisse “as an elder brother.” Matisse thought of his rival as “the kid.”
In 1949, Paris was chosen to host the “World Congress of Advocates of Peace,” a pro-Stalinist organization. Picasso had recently joined the Communist Party so the French writer and Communist Louis Aragon came to Picasso’s studio to find a picture to illustrate a poster for the conference. A lithograph of a dove he saw there seemed an ideal choice. The Congress made it their organization’s symbol. Picasso responded to its popularity and his growing fascination with doves with many versions in subsequent years.
When Matisse took on his last great commission – The Rosary Chapel of Vence, France – he emptied his living quarters so he would not be distracted. His exotic pigeons were sent to Picasso.
When Matisse died in November of 1954, Picasso was desolate. He couldn’t paint for days. When a friend called on him, he saw him staring out a window, murmuring “Matisse is dead. Matisse is dead.”
Years before he had said, “When one of us dies, there are things the other will not be able to say to anyone else again.” As a final homage to his lost friend and brother, Picasso painted the most Matisse-like paintings of his career. The Studio show an open window looking out on the Mediterranean surrounded by doves. Matisse’s doves.
Next week, “The Beginning of Cubism.”
Following surgery, the transplanted heart had performed very well for several weeks without any signs of rejection. In the time after his surgery, Bennett spent time with family, participated in physical therapy, watched the Super Bowl and spoke often about wanting to go home to see his dog Lucky.
The procedure raised hopes that advances in cross-species organ donation could one day solve the chronic shortage of human organs available for donation, and the team behind the operation say they still remain optimistic about its future success.
🛐 Today’s close is from Good Morning Lord. Can We Talk? by Chuck Swindoll.
Ever wonder if Jesus would have agreed to star in His own reality TV show? Let’s allow Him to answer in His own words:
“For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).
No mumbo jumbo. Just a straight-from-the-shoulder response. Jesus came to be a servant. Being a celebrity wasn’t in His DNA.
Nothing is more refreshing than a servant’s heart and a giving spirit. This is especially true when such Christlike qualities are displayed in a person tagged as celebrity. Years ago, my wife and I attended the National Religious Broadcasters convention in Washington, D.C. That year one of the main speakers was Colonel James B. Irwin, a former astronaut who was part of the Apollo 15 crew who had walked on the moon. That made him famous. He spoke of the thrill connected with leaving this planet and seeing it shrink in size. He mentioned watching “earthrise” one day ... and thinking how privileged he was to be a member of that unique team. On the flight back to earth, it hit him that many would consider him an international celebrity because of what he’d experienced.
Humbled by the awesome goodness of God, Colonel Irwin shared his true feelings, which went something like this:
“As I was returning to earth, I realized that I was a servant – not a celebrity. So, I am here as God’s servant on planet Earth to share what I have experienced, that others might know the glory of God.”
I love that! God allowed this man to break loose from the small cage of Earth, to reveal to and instill in him the high value of becoming a servant, not a celebrity.
Caught up in the fast-lane treadmill of the twenty-first century – making mad dashes through airports, meeting deadlines, home schooling high-achieving kids, and coping with the stress of people’s demands mixed with our own high expectations – it’s easy to lose sight of our primary calling as followers of Christ. But let’s not forget our goal. Instead, let’s focus on becoming servants, not celebrities.
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