Picasso: A colourful trickster
It is said that most women in Picasso’s life had no problem recognising themselves in the outrageous portraits he painted of them. So, as I look at a photograph of one painting the Spanish artist did of Francoise Girot, one of his many wives, I can only feel sorry for her. To spend your life with your right boob floating away from you and its twin stuck on your forehead must present some difficulties in leading a normal life. To make matters worse she is sitting on a chair that defies logic and that I would have been happy to use as kindling for the fireplace. Another one of his women was always painted with a green rectangle around what I believe was her face, but come to think of it it might have been her backside, because he liked to represent her as a flower. That old fraud must have had a hell of a collection of plants from Mars. I am still to find a flower with a perfect rectangular green leaf stuck behind its head.
Picasso liked pigeons, those rats with wings, and used them extensively on canvas. What started well with the little boy in a blue frock cuddling a white dove degenerated into few careless strokes of paint against a nightmarish background in the later years. Just as well that most paintings carry a title. On one hand it saves you a headache trying to think of an explanation for the confusion in front of your eyes but on the other you get the same pain in the head when attempting to match title and the mess in front of you. At least when the old Tate gallery in London showed, years ago, an exhibit made up of a few building bricks and titled “Bricks” you had no problem matching the description and the actual artwork. I had problems to understand the art quality of the work but at least the title confirmed my impression that I was indeed looking at a few builders bricks. What a relief!
In a “pigeon” is a slang word describing a gullible and naïve person who is taken easily for a ride by even the least experienced trickster. No wonder Picasso liked those flea-ridden birds. He caught a record number of pigeons during his unprecedented reign as tube squeezer extraordinaire and even ensured that the family tradition carried on by naming one of his daughters “Paloma”. She too caught millions of brainless women in her net by marketing some miracle creams to smooth out wrinkles and a type of red lipstick that made them look like if they should be giving a break to Ron under the double arch of MacDonald’s.
The idea of such a museum is not new. In 1954 the town council asked Picasso, then working in
More than half century later the museum is housed in a 16th century palace in the old town. The site had to be accepted by the family although it is the taxpayers who are footing the bill for renovation to the tune of 60 millions Euros (£ 42 millions). True, the 204 exhibits did not cost the town anything. But most of the works are not “given” to the town. They are on extendable loans from the family…A vast difference. They also can’t constitute Picasso’s major works as those are in private hands or other museums around the world. So what the public get for their 8 Euros entry fee is a collection of works that the family probably could not sell at a reasonable price and decided to get rid of. There is somewhere in
But let’s be grateful for small or big mercies even if they come done in primary colours and hit you in that part of the brain you thought you never had. The winter is upon us. The new museum is a diversion. I long for the blue sky again, the garish palm trees that look like palm trees and not feather dusters upside down, the table on the terrace with its four legs firmly on the ground and not stuck in the air at different angles, the plain white plates resting flat on a clean tablecloth and not propped up like in a shop window. In fact I don’t want any Picasso look alike around me. There are enough horrors in the newspapers and on television.
It soon will be wild asparagus time again. It is a very short season and you must buy them here and then. Street vendors will be everywhere. Buy a few bunches. Cut off the woody end and wash carefully. Then on a board cut the tip end to a length of about 5cms and reserve. Chop the rest of the stalks roughly, just cover with water, add some salt and simmer quietly for about half-hour. When tender liquidise the lot, add a little white pepper, a little milk and freeze. It will make a wonderful soup, hot or cold for the summer.
Now for the tips. Start by frying some raw rice (the best in is called Brilliante or any long grain rice available wherever you are) in a little butter. Add just enough water to cover and crumble a stock cube in the pot. You see we are in cubes again. Simmer.
In the meantime place the asparagus tips in a large heavy pot with a couple of tablespoons of butter, a little salt and plenty of freshly ground pepper. Cover with a lid or foil and shake from time to time. It must be on very low heat. Check your rice. When it has absorbed all the liquid take it off the heat and let it rest with the lid on for the rice to swell. Now you just have time to have that glass of white wine and check that the asparagus are done. They are. In a warm serving dish mix the rice and the asparagus tips very carefully. Check seasoning. Add a glass of crème fraiche, a handful of finely chopped parsley and if you feel that you can’t do without some cubes in primary colour garnish with small cubes of red and yellow peppers.
The dish should be a picture. It will do your eyes good and make your stomach ecstatic.
Which is more than I could say about Picasso’s delirious creations.
