News

Poetry and revolution

A new exhibition running at Barcelona’s Picasso Museum until March 15 traces the deep friendship between the great artist and the surrealist poet Paul Éluard, the man who awakened Picasso’s political conscience

The artist and the poet “mutually enriched each other” Picasso had Guernica shown alongside Éluard’s poem, La victoire de Guernica

It might be a push to say that if Pi­casso had not been friends with the poet Paul Éluard he would never have painted Guer­nica. Yet, what is not in doubt is that Éluard was the per­son who awak­ened Pi­casso’s po­lit­i­cal con­science. He shaped him ide­o­log­i­cally along with Dora Maar, the most in­tel­lec­tual of the Malaga-born ge­nius’ wives, and it was Éluard who in­tro­duced them in 1935.

It’s a good thing that, rather than of­fer­ing ir­refutable truths, ex­hi­bi­tions should pose pos­si­bil­i­ties not con­sid­ered be­fore, and that is some­thing that Pablo Pi­casso, Paul Éluard, una ami­s­tat sub­lim (A sub­lime friend­ship), which runs at the artist’s mu­seum in Barcelona until March 15, does ex­tremely well.

Pi­casso loved poets. And it is well-known that love is an in­spir­ing force. Pi­casso met Éluard when he was still get­ting over the death of his first poet friend, Guil­laume Apol­li­naire. In fact, it seems the two met for the first time dur­ing a per­for­mance of a play by Apol­li­naire, in 1918.

Éluard was a young man of 23. It did not take long be­fore he began col­lect­ing the works of the painter (14 years his se­nior) at bar­gain prices, which he would then often re­sell. Pi­casso was well aware of this, and yet he still gifted him many of his works.

“Pi­casso was al­ways very gen­er­ous to­wards his friends,” and even more so to­wards those he knew were strug­gling to sur­vive on their own cre­ations, says Malén Gual, con­ser­va­tor at Pi­casso’s mu­seum and cu­ra­tor of the pro­ject along with the in­sti­tu­tion’s di­rec­tor, Em­manuel Guigon. The ex­hi­bi­tion is filled with pieces from the poet’s col­lec­tion, in­clud­ing the vi­brant col­lage of the woman’s bust owned by the Cata­lan col­lec­tor, Josep Suñol.

It in­cludes the first por­trait of Éluard, which Pi­casso gave him in 1936 and the poet ex­ul­tantly showed off all over Barcelona. The artist, who by this time had be­come the god of art, sent Éluard to rep­re­sent him at the ex­hi­bi­tion de­voted to him by the Adlan group just be­fore the Civil War broke out. The poet then moved to Madrid, where he suf­fered the bomb­ing by Franco’s air force. See­ing the peo­ple at war against fas­cism led him to write his first clearly po­lit­i­cal poem, No­vem­ber 1936, which mo­ti­vated Pi­casso to con­ceive of the se­ries of prints, The Dream and Lie of Franco.

The bête noire of Fran­co­ism that Pi­casso be­came until his last days had been born. His in­ter­nal rage found an es­cape route in his paint­ing Guer­nica. When it was un­veiled at the Re­pub­li­can pavil­ion of the Paris In­ter­na­tional Ex­po­si­tion in 1937, Pi­casso had the paint­ing shown along­side Éluard’s poem, La vic­toire de Guer­nica, which in this case had been in­spired by the artist. “They mu­tu­ally en­riched each other,” says Gual.

Pol­i­tics is an ex­tremely im­por­tant con­cept in this ex­hi­bi­tion, al­though it is mixed with oth­ers. Love, em­bod­ied by Dora Maar, who Pi­casso painted dur­ing the Sec­ond World War with de­formed fa­cial fea­tures and even skulls (there is a never-be­fore-seen sketch book in the ex­hi­bi­tion that makes one’s hair stand on end). It is the face of the hor­rors that were de­stroy­ing Eu­rope. Yet, love is also em­bod­ied in Nusch, Éluard’s sec­ond wife (his first was Gala, who left him for Dalí), and while there is noth­ing to prove that she be­came Pi­casso’s lover, he painted her with the same in­ten­sity as if she had been. The proof of the in­ti­macy be­tween the two cou­ples is hid­den in the erotic pho­tos of their sum­mer hol­i­days in the south of France. Let each in­ter­pret how they will what love meant to them, but it was nearer the freer end.

Friend­ship, love, pol­i­tics and art. A lot of art. Éluard blis­tered his fin­gers writ­ing poems to Pi­casso. “To you, Pablo Pi­casso, my sub­lime friend,” is the line from which the ex­hi­bi­tion’s title is taken. And Pi­casso never tired of il­lus­trat­ing his friend’s books and paint­ing his por­trait. And that was how it con­tin­ued until the end. It was a pre­ma­ture end for Éluard, who died in 1952. Nusch had al­ready died in 1946. The poet mar­ried his third wife in 1951. Pi­casso gave them a pre­cious wed­ding gift, a giant vase dec­o­rated with dancers and mu­si­cians. And this is what brings the ex­hi­bi­tion to an end.

Yet, in a way, it doesn’t fin­ish here. It con­tin­ues in an­other that is sep­a­rate but closely con­nected: Pi­casso poeta (Pi­casso the poet) is being held at the mu­seum until March 1, and fo­cuses on one of the artist’s least known facets. His po­etic side man­i­fested it­self from the 1930s, co­in­cid­ing with the time when his friend­ship with Éluard be­came deeper. “Ul­ti­mately, all of the arts are one. A paint­ing can be writ­ten with words, as feel­ings can be painted in a poem,” said the artist.

“At heart I am a poet de­railed,” he once con­fessed. In fact, his in­ter­est in writ­ing dated back to when he was a teenager. “On many of his draw­ings from his for­ma­tive years, many of which we have in the mu­seum, there are in­scrip­tions that we have to see as the root of Pi­casso the poet,” points out Claus­tre Ra­fart, con­ser­va­tor at the Pi­casso Mu­seum and a mem­ber of the team that cu­rated this ex­hi­bi­tion that, as with the one about Éluard, is also due to a close col­lab­o­ra­tion with the Pi­casso Mu­seum in Paris.

art

Sign in. Sign in if you are already a verified reader. I want to become verified reader. To leave comments on the website you must be a verified reader.
Note: To leave comments on the website you must be a verified reader and accept the conditions of use.