Went to Tate Britain on Friday night to see the Picasso. Insightful comments heard such as: "You've gotta admit, he's got a cool signature" and "Well, you could say he's worth an exhibition but I don't like that one..."
He was just so massive, so non-stop, such a force; and again, this compulsion to create. He just did what he had to do, and out it all came and kept coming...and to have that self-belief. Felt very mortal in too-tight shoes. We were accosted later, walking along the pavement (feet in agony at this stage) by a rather tragic young man going off to a club who told us his life story. He was 24 and had had botox 6 times (and "I still look like sh**" he said, sadly) It was fittingly, surreally, Picasso's evening.
|Girl in a chemise by Picasso|