Picasso\'s Psyche as Seen Through

Picasso's Psyche as Seen Through The Studio (1934) Pablo Picasso was wildly popular and respected in his time, both in Spain and throughout the world art community. Simultaneously, he was criticized for the provocative nature of his work and for the steadfast neutrality of his political orientation. By the early 20th century, his work had served to largely redefine the parameters of the art world, allowing for deep abstractions in presentation and the exploration of subjects with shockingly frank implications. And in his personal life, he showed a similar set of proclivities, engaging a lifestyle and philosophical orientation which both inspired deep divisions along ideological lines. Born in Spain in 1881, he would split his life between Paris and Barcelona, drawing on his cultural experiences there within and, according to his self-declared orientation, communist ideology, in order to produce a body of work which would include painting, literary composition, sculpting and even film work. (Wikipedia, 1) In consideration of specific works, we can arrive at a greater understanding of some of the personal matters which Picasso sought to make public through his own work. The Studio, painted in 1934, is a useful illustration of this proclivity, depicting a scene of erotic and graphic sexuality through the mode of painter and subject. Indeed, this is one of the more expressive works on the tail end of a period which saw Picasso exploring the notion of himself within the works. Not necessarily as sophisticated as Dali's concurrent surreal explorations of the psyche, but of equal value for their alternate but nonetheless subversive dismantling of forms, Picasso's 'artist and subject' period would produce a bevy of demonstrations in recognition of his own profession. Aside from composition, the content of The Studio is thusly demonstrative, and its approach to the subject leaves no question as to Picasso's projection both of his physical self and of his psychic appetites in the abstract cubist piece. To the content, it is justified then first to address the piece as it reflects on Picasso's occupational orientation. This is not simply to denote the obvious; that Picasso was a painter who derived interest at this juncture from depicting the act itself. Beyond the metaphysical implication of this act is the expression of interest in depicting an occupational act itself. A corpulent and hedonistically splayed women lay across a parlor chair, head draped backwards in either abandon or unconsciousness. Ornamented in regal and open fabric, nude and sexually presented, she is hued in a purplish enormity that contrasts that ornately detailed brilliance of an artist less cubist and more surrealist in nature than previous works. Elements of cubism are definitively apparent in the sharp angular presentation of the artist's studio as a backdrop to the salient human subjects. Before exploring further the elements of psychic examination that denote the turn aesthetically toward surrealism, we note that its preoccupation with the psyche accounts for the focal point of occupation. The expression of the self would come from a predilection within Picasso to take interest in these raw human events. Accordingly, "boxers, ethnographers, bullfighters, workers, printers-they have attracted Picasso's interest. Nearly all the artisans with whom Picasso has ever worked cannot praise him highly enough. He may be suspicious of intellectuals and art critics, but before those with concrete skills is always respectful." (Picasso & Ashton, xxiv) The brute physical attributes of these occupations seemed more akin in his mind to Picasso's brutal abstractions on the human countenance, invoking a respect and admiration for such qualities that prefigures his interest in communist ideology. The idea of the painter engaging his craft forms the basis for The Studio's narrative. However, to its physical presentation, we must take a deeper consideration of surrealism at this point in Picasso's life. His cubist works of the teens and twenties had elevated him to a place of marked admiration, even as he aggressively declared neutrality in the face of mounting world and civil wars to the disgust of so many other artists in the activist communities. Instead of taking sides as did contemporaries and fellow statesmen such as Dali-who had become renowned by World War II for his stunning portrayal or fascism and Nazism as the rotting of Spanish and European lifeblood-Picasso channeled a pacifism that would eventually lead to the harsh depictions of war such as Guernica and Massacre in Korea.

But in the period between the world wars, Picasso engaged most steadfastly in an exploration of the self as channeled through the bizarre manifestations of the human form rendered by his subconscious. This being the primary impetus of the surrealist movement, we find that in The Studio it becomes a tool for using counter-traditional forms to induce understanding of the mind's inexplicable vagaries. In Picasso's case-as denoted by a life filled with marriages, children and mistresses-sexuality, lust and the desire to be desired filled his psyche. His appetites were considerable and he grappled in the work of this time to tie these propensities into the self-exploration inherent to the 'artist and subject' period. As Flint (2007) indicates of the whole movement as it is on display in the famous Guggenheim art gallery, "by depicting artistic representations of humans in a highly schematized form, Picasso places the figures at several removes from the world of living beings. He relies on the viewer's willingness to believe in the reality of depicted objects, however abstract, and to imagine a human exchange or relationship between the male and female forms." (Flint, 1) This leaves us of course to interpret in a work such as The Studio exactly what is meant by the exchange or relationship. In Picasso's case, his sexual restlessness does indicate some distortion in his tendencies. And incapacity for fidelity and a reported tendency even toward cruelty to some of his wives and mistresses suggests that Picasso struggled to understand his relationship with women and his motives toward an insatiable appetite well into his old age. The misshapen blob of a woman in this work is nonetheless displayed with an erotic sensuality that implies something more than just the relationship between artist and subject. The way her head is thrown back, the prominence of her breasts and the positional proximity between her prone body and the painter's phallic brush strokes- pointed directly at her due to Picasso's typical dismissal of dimensional distinction-all suggest a violation of sorts. Given Picasso's own tendencies and commentary on the concept of depicting eroticism, it may be that this was more than a figurative penetration on the part of an insightful artist. Instead, the possibility of sex or even of rape becomes apparent. As recorded in a text composed of his own words and presented by Ashton (1972), "'Art is never chaste,' Picasso told me one day. 'We forbid it to the ignorant innocents, never allow a contact with it to those not sufficiently prepared. Yes, art is dangerous. And, if it's chaste it isn't art.'" (Picasso & Ashton, 15) We may deduce that Picasso took no shame in suggesting that if he was not guilty of such acts in his true life, than at least in his psyche there was a rampant sexual creature, depicted in a composite of narrow and round phallic shapes. The body is topped by a chromatic feast that is the painting's most vivid moment. If the work is an expression of Picasso's psyche-as was generally thought to be the case in the area of surrealism- these colors suggest something of a vibrant and animated presence in the mind. Though he is a being of sexuality and possibly of sexual depravity in this painting, he does not villainize himself. Quite to the contrary, the unconscious, dormant and monochromatic nature of the female subject suggests an objectification that may well have reflected Picasso's understanding of his relationship to women. Aesthetically, the women's femininity marks the works strongest break- -or at least transition-from cubism to a form that was not exclusive of cubism but did remove its limitations. Based on the more lurid subject matter invading his mind at this time, Picasso would perhaps find greater fluidity in surrealism by this time, a proclivity that had been in development during and after WWI. To the point, "throughout the second half of 1913 and the early months of 1914, Picasso had begun to salt his Cubist compositions with realistic passages in a way that suggests an effort to reintroduce the classicist styles of art that Cubism had apparently banished from the avant-garde repertoire." (Fitzgerald, 49) The interest in nudes, in voluptuous female forms and in provocative human entanglement would provoke this alteration in approach. This would be an important transition for Picasso, making possible some of the more evocative moments that would mark his career. Somehow, the sexuality and concreteness which are invoked by this set of years seems to demonstrate an evolution in Picasso's willingness to bear himself in his work. To an extent, it may even be said that he did this only in his professional life. In his personal life, this would seem to produce few behavioral revelations. The objectification of the female form in The Studio illustrates how as a mode of this period his increasing openness to more traditional curvature and anatomy would merge with cubism to produce an utterly unique but decipherable perspective on human sexuality. Accordingly, "these appearances in works such as Woman in an Armchair and its related studies are mere snippets of anatomy within a Cubist framework, yet they signal Picasso's uneasiness with Cubism." (Fitzgerald, 49) The uneasiness would not eliminate its presence but show cubism in the light of surrealist themes. Its garish and unsettling proportions become ultimately more organic and shocking in this way. To Picasso, this was not a goal, but an acceptable end to art conducted appropriately. So he would indicate "when, one day, someone said apropos of nothing in particular that there can be no sense of shame in art, he answered that painting could paint anything, provided that it was really painting. 'Only when painting isn't really painting can there be an affront to modesty,' said he." (Picasso & Ashton, 15) One must imagine that in this respect, Picasso admonished the need for honesty in process and presentation. Certainly, it was neither form nor the philosophical abstention from form which governed this ideology. Instead, Picasso allowed himself to evolve in both form and the confrontation of his subject matter as a way of invoking greater insight into the artistic process and the merits of its outcome. In The Studio, we find the artist reaching the relative heights of his internal exploration, revealing a soul and psyche wiling to engage itself with frankness and yet preoccupied with something akin to psychic demons. Though he would never fully exorcise these from a personal life of unsettled romantic and sexual affairs, such works would appear to function as an outlet for an unflinching self awareness. Works Cited: