Top image shows Lake Union neighborhood and bottom image is a photo of some houses in the neighborhood.

Picasso Behind a Window, 1952

On Friday I had the great fortune to tour the Picasso exhibit at the SAM. It was a unique opportunity to see not only a tremendous amount of the artist’s work, but also much of his process. To date, he is one of the artists who has produced the highest volume of work during his career, there was plenty to visually drink in.

The sketches and detailed studies that preceded many of Picasso’s paintings were somehow intimate to behold. As an artist myself, I always feel very exposed when people see my work before it is finished. I much prefer to present it in its finished state, for the TA-DA! moment. I feel a need to guard my vision, to not let others change it before I have drawn it out into the world. To be afforded to see his thoughts and explorations before the finished piece is like having a back-stage pass, a peek behind the curtain. Where the life of Picasso is concerned, it’s a colorfully passionate, chaotic show.

Guernica by Pablo Picasso

One of my favorite examples of progress capture was a wall of photographs by Dora Maar that chronicled the painting of the Guernica mural. Accompanied by several studies of close-ups and  sketches, it makes one appreciate the obsessive attention to every detail in such a large piece. The teeth in the horse’s head, eyes rolling wild. A dead man’s hand still gripping the hilt of a broken sword. The  bull’s horns…seen as if through a guiding magnifying glass, these are the details my eyes will always first find upon viewing this work.

Picasso’s personal life and many love affairs are splashed throughout his works, as loudly as current-day tabloids scream scandal from grocery store check-out lines. Our docent informed us that each of the women who loved Picasso learned they were on the outs by literally seeing a new woman in the picture. Or painting, as it were. It was haunting to see the brush strokes of short-lived passions that burned bright as the match struck, only to flame-out in a plume of smoke and ash of the aftermath.

Any observer of Picasso’s art can track the moments that an obsessive fascination began, when love blossomed. Each of his women was afforded a signature style that represents their own personality and tenor of love with the egotistical artist. Vivid colors, sensual shapes and fluid poses lead outsiders through the time line of the relationship. One can later almost hear the proverbial shoe drop and feel his attention cool, as the palettes fade and the frames that hold the women in his life become structured, rigid, bored. For Picasso, the light in which he saw each woman had changed, either illuminating harsh realities or fading to dullness. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, a wandering eye changes lenses frequently. The beauties were left to ruin, the muses to misery, while the artist searched for the next shock of inspiration.

Portrait of Dora Maar, 1937

The weeping woman, October 18, 1937

(Dora Maar, shown here at the beginning of her love affair with Picasso, and depicted later as the “Weeping Woman” at the end of their relationship.)

After ruminating on the collection during my walk home, I was reminded of a short poem I had written my freshman year at college, during a poetry night title exchange. Someone else wrote the title “Blissed-Out Fade”, and I wrote a poem to accompany it. The idea that life, love and passion was chronicled in Picasso’s sketches, painting and sculpture seemed reminiscent of the concept behind the poem. The last stanza sadly seemed as if it may echo the thoughts of Picasso’s many loves, the women who inspired so much from the artist’s brush only to be left in the shadows when a new light entered his life.

blissed-out fade (by e.allen 10.29.2001)

colors swirl,
hues collide.
I am a splash of contentedness.
Joyful kaleidoscope.
Brightly lit -
my smile a blinding white.

Have you ever felt so happy
that the only thing you worry about
is what it will be like to
crash
after such euphoria?

Swatches dim,
tones subdued.
How did I become
merely
a blissed-out fade
on your canvas?

Your palette remains the same,
but I have this
sinking
feeling
that I am being painted
right out
of this picture.

the melody that hums

in the undercurrents

of my stuttering breath.

the sweetness

of curls strewn,

of lashes dipped in tears

to paint your sleeping cheeks.

You are my first light –

existing in some

half dreamed reality

where morning stars rise

in the windows of your soul.

Tiny lights

blinking in the pearled dawn.

Forever waiting

My Unsung Song.

They say an end can be a start
Feels like I’ve been buried yet I’m still alive
It’s like a bad day that never ends
I feel the chaos around me
A thing I don’t try to deny
I’d better learn to accept that
There are things in my life that I can’t control

They say love ain’t nothing but a sore
I don’t even know what love is
Too many tears have had to fall
Don’t you know I’m so tired of it all
I have known terror dizzy spells
Finding out the secrets words won’t tell
Whatever it is it can’t be named
There’s a part of my world that’ s fading away

You know I don’t want to be clever
To be brilliant or superior
True like ice, true like fire
Now I know that a breeze can blow me away
Now I know there’s much more dignity
In defeat than in the brightest victory
I’m losing my balance on the tight rope
Tell me please, tell me please, tell me please…

If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know

Hang on to the good days
I can lean on my friends
They help me going through hard times
But I’m feeding the enemy
I’m in league with the foe
Blame me for what’s happening
I can’t try, I can’t try, I can’t try…

No one knows the hard times I went through
If happiness came I miss the call
The stormy days ain’t over
I’ve tried and lost know I think that I pay the cost
Now I’ve watched all my castles fall
They were made of dust, after all
Someday all this mess will make me laugh
I can’t ewait, I can’t wait, I can’t wait…

If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know
If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know

It’s like somebody took my place
I ain’t even playing my own game
The rules have changed well I didn’t know
There are things in my life I can’t control
I feel the chaos around me
A thing I don’t try to deny
I’d better learn to accept that
There’s a part of my life that will go away

Dark is the night, cold is the ground
In the circular solitude of my heart
As one who strives a hill to climb
I am sure I’ll come through I don’t know how
They say an end can be a start
Feels like I’ve been buried yet I’m still alive

I’m losing my balance on the tight rope
Tell me please, tell me please, tell me please…

If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know

If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know

If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know

Currently there are over 1,000 tiny wind chime bells installed in an avenue of trees in the Seattle Center. Hearing them has been one of my favorite parts of walking to work this summer.