(#2) Picasso’s Paper Cuts: a reflection on process
I must preface this post by saying I was raised by one of Pablo Picasso’s biggest fans. My blood is stained with bias.
There’s much to be said about Picasso and much of it has already been said. Perhaps the most prolific and influential artist of the twentieth century, the Spanish painter has a tight grip on art admirers worldwide. What’s so good about Picasso? He sucked the souls out of his muses, jumped around his friends to collaborate or use their studios, and heavily relied upon appropriation in his work, especially in his famed cubism phase. “Good artists copy, great artists steal,” he famously said (or repeated, I can’t tell). I can’t help but admire the lack of scruples. I’ve always been fascinated by his process and ability to succeed at every medium he has tried: painting, drawing, printmaking, sculpture. Even the way he cuts and uses paper is extraordinary.
This brings us to the Hammer Museum’s exhibition, “Picasso Cut Papers.” The show focuses on Picasso’s cut, torn, and manipulated paper forms, a medium spanning his whole career. Most of the pieces were kept in a personal work archive and never meant to be displayed. The first rebuke that comes to mind is “Cutting paper? That’s child’s play.” The curators address this right off the bat, starting the exhibit with small paper cut outs of a dog and a dove Picasso made when he was eight years old as if to say “Yes, it is. Now look at what Picasso does with it.” (Side note: You may be aware that doves are a motif in Picasso’s oeuvre. His father José Ruiz Blasco, in addition to also being an artist, bred pigeons, and painted many images of birds. I was intrigued to see how early on doves appear in Picasso’s work). The rest of the exhibition features Picasso’s signature fluid, abstract figures, faces, animals, and objects on paper.
The stand outs of the exhibition are the collection of sheet metal sculptures and photograms, which directly address the crux of the exhibition: paper as a means of process and experimentation. Picasso collaborated with ironworker Joseph Marius Tiola from 1957 to 1965 to create dozens of metal sculptures. What seem like scraps of paper serve as prototypes for designing these sculptures. My favorite part of the collection of metal sculptures showcases a sculpture of a rooster flanked by the paper cut outs of a rooster and chicken feet.
Picasso’s photograms from the Hammer Museum’s exhibition, “Picasso Cut Papers.”
In the portfolio Diurnes, Picasso collaborated with photographer Andre Villers to create photograms, or cameraless images, papier découpés, and papier collés. Paper cut outs of figures, faces, and animals serve as the basis for compositions as Picasso and Villers experimented with the background images. This experimentation plays out almost in real time as the cut outs accompany the series of photograms the pair produced.
There’s an obsession with the final product in art. I thought for a long time that only finished pieces should be displayed in galleries and that only the best work is worth seeing. While there is no comparison to seeing a masterpiece, there is enormous value in investigating the process behind art. This exhibition succeeds at highlighting how Picasso’s curiosity guided him to collaborators and through mediums. In the portfolio of photograms, there’s no attempt to say which pieces were the most successful. They best exist together as a group because they demonstrate Picasso’s uninhibited creativity. I can almost hear Picasso say “What if we try this or move this around?”
In class, we study technique. These foundational skills are of course important in executing projects, but I find myself most interested in artists’ processes. I’m not wondering how Picasso cut the paper but rather asking why? When we study Renaissance and Baroque paintings, for example, we investigate a final product. We look at the use of light, value, tone, and composition. The studies often get lost. Sometimes we see artists return to similar subject matters. How often do you see an unfinished painting hung in a gallery? Very rarely. In my watercolor painting class, my professor talked about the point you reach in a painting when it does not look right and you want to start over, but when you finish it, it looks great. Sometimes I feel that artists shy away from showing and discussing the rough patches and experimentation in art. The struggle and process can be assumed, but to see it presented clearly humanizes the art.
Picasso never meant for most of the pieces in the exhibit to be on display, yet they are the most fascinating to ponder. They pull back the curtain and give insight into Picasso’s genius mind. Even Picasso, one of the most revered artists, cut out silly little shapes and figures.
