Surviving Picasso Page #7

to kahnweiler

is the surest way

to starve to death.

No, no, no.

Oh, the, uh, news from

America is not so good.

Matisse is all right. His

prices are rising, but, um...

They are not buying picassos.

Why not? Because I joined

the communist party?

Good.

Fine.

I'm satisfied.

You wouldn't understand

this, kahnweiler,

but it's only since I

joined the communist party

that I feel once again

I am among my brothers.

You'll see. They'll be

strikes and troubles.

They'll be marching and

singing in the streets...

And you'll be hanging from a lamppost.

Ack-ck-ck-ck!

Comrades...

Stalin.

Stalin! Stalin! Stalin! Stalin!

Stalin! Stalin! Stalin! Stalin!

...Picasso.

Picasso! Picasso!

Picasso! Picasso!

Thank you.

Francoise:
In joining

the communist party,

Picasso had followed many other

artists and intellectuals

for whom communism

was a new theology,

with God replaced by Stalin.

Taking along his chauffeur

marcel for company,

Picasso attended a party

conference in Poland.

It is our duty...

Francoise:
They hated his art,

but they loved his name

and knew what a useful

propaganda tool he was for them.

Interpreter:

...Anarchy in his art,

which places the individual

outside the masses.

Thank you, comrades...

The international

proletariat...

It is a great honor for me to

be here with you this evening,

a very great honor.

However, I must take exception

to my good comrade's remarks

when he uses the word "anarchy"

in connection with my work.

I am not an anarchist,

and I never have been.

My work is a constructive one.

I am building,

not tearing down.

Anarchy... anarchy in art

is a petit-bourgeois concept,

which condemns the

artist to mediocrity,

incapacity, and malfeasance.

Your impressionist,

surrealist style...

comrade, if you...

if you must insult me...

At least...

Get your

terminologies straight.

Monsieur Picasso!

Picasso!

Pierre, I can't let you photograph

here without his permission.

Of course. Everything has to

be done with his permission.

I'm sorry.

When's he back?

He said he'd be gone 3 days,

and he's been gone 3 weeks.

Do you ever hear

from Genevieve?

Yeah.

Is she still in montpellier?

She comes to Paris sometimes.

Don't you see her anymore?

He doesn't like me to

have friends of my own.

Every day I get this

telegram from Poland.

"Hugs and kisses,

from Picasso."

Hugs and kisses...

That's not Pablo.

That's marcel.

He must have told marcel, "send

her a telegram every day.

Keep her quiet."

Francoise!

What?

That's for the hugs and kisses.

Francoise?

See what I've brought you

from Poland.

Francoise?

Look...

I bought it for you.

Here you are.

Open it.

Ol.

Put it on.

Ahh...

Francoise:
He was brilliant

at coaxing a woman,

changing her mood,

treating her as a pet.

He loved pets.

He didn't care

for people so much.

People could be difficult

and give him trouble.

Francoise:
Our daughter

was called Paloma: The dove.

She was a model baby who slept

practically round the clock.

Picasso was delighted with her,

especially as she never

disturbed him at night.

She'll be a perfect woman:

Passive and submissive,

as all girls should be...

And their mothers.

Claude.

Look.

Look.

Where are we going?

Look.

Francoise:
He loved being with the

children for short periods of time.

He spent most of his days

away from us,

assembling his pieces

of scrap metal,

arranging what he called,

"the chance meeting

on a dissecting table of a

sewing machine and an umbrella."

He would turn an old radiator

into an accordion player

and explain it as a metaphor to

fool not the eye, but the mind.

Dominus vobiscum.

Et cum spiritus tou.

Benedictat vos omnipotens deus,

pater et filius

et spiritus sanctus.

Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.

Ita mista est.

Deo gratias.

Pablo:
All this

is typical of Matisse.

There is no terror in him.

Of course, compared with me,

Matisse is a young lady.

I don't know how

he can do all this

and not believe

what it represents.

It's morally wrong.

You don't believe,

but you made me swear.

Do you remember how you made

me swear to love you forever?

He should have built a market,

then he could paint his

usual fruit and vegetables

and his pretty flowers

instead of all this.

Why don't you swear now?

Hmm?

Why don't you swear to love

me and the children forever

or at least the children?

What are you talking about?

You don't believe...

So it wouldn't mean anything...

And it might help us.

What's the matter with you?

Francoise:
The only time I've ever seen

Picasso put himself out for anyone,

except when he

was wooing a new woman,

was when we visited Matisse

at the hotel Regina in nice.

Matisse tended to treat

Picasso like a favorite son

of whom he

couldn't quite approve.

They exchanged paintings, but

they were always on their guard,

each speculating

about the other's work

and asking, "what's he doing?"

But Picasso said, "finally,

there is only Matisse.

When he goes, there will be

nothing left to say to anyone."

Pablo:
Henri, Lydia...

This is francoise.

Monsieur Matisse.

Hello.

These are very special

dates from Madagascar.

Take one.

Oh, no. No.

No?

Please.

Lydia?

Thank you.

You're wearing my colors:

Mauve and olive green.

I told you to wear them.

It was my idea.

No. You told me

to wear mauve and pink.

Whatever I say, francoise is

assured to say the opposite.

I live in a perpetual

climate of contradiction.

I feel very sorry for you.

You always did have a bad time

with beautiful young women.

But whoever had the idea...

I would like to paint

francoise in those colors.

Her hair would be blue,

her cheeks light green,

but of course her eyebrows

would rhyme with her ears.

I suppose you could send francoise

around to pose for me, hmm?

Certainly...

If you send Lydia

in exchange to pose for me.

Probably Lydia

wouldn't like that.

Did you know that women

in Paris curse each other,

"may you be painted by Picasso,

the eyes and the ears,

the nose and the mouth"?

Now that I do not

get out very much,

I've made myself a little

garden to walk in.

Everything is here...

Fruit...

Flowers...

Leaves...

A few birds.

Hmm.

My own swimming pool.

You like to swim?

Ha ha ha!

Francoise:
We went to see

your chapel in vence.

Oh. And I expect you found

plenty to criticize.

No. I thought it was beautiful.

Except the choice

of subject matter.

What do these symbols

mean to you?

If we don't pray, we have

no right to portray prayer.

But we do pray.

When we are working

we are praying.

You know that yourself.

No...

I've no religion in

the conventional sense,

yet I believe.

There's a zen saying...

"We have two suns:

"The one outside in the sky,

and the other inside here.

"As the one outside

fades for us, so...

The other raises up

more and more."

Since my last illness,

I feel I carry a sun with a

thousand rays inside me.

Yes.

So you've, uh...

Made for yourself

a little harem,

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