Unveiling Picasso

THE FOGG'S exhibition of Master Drawings by Picasso is the first show in this country devoted solely to his works on paper since Alfred Stieglitz displayed the young Spaniard's drawings and etchings at the avant-garde 291 Gallery in New York. That was in 1911. Now, 70 years later on the centennial of Picasso's birth, the Fogg's Gary Tinterow has assembled more than 100 drawing watercolors, and guaches from 50 collections and museums around the world. Because of the recent settling of Picasso's estate, it is now possible to exhibit works that were previously unknown--and the Fogg has done just that.

One quarter of the drawings in the Fogg have never been exhibited before anywhere, and one third of them have never been shown in the United States. The works' novelty and secluded history have attracted many 20th-century art scholars and critics not only for the show, but also for a symposium the Saturday after the exhibit.

Although many exhibitions of Picasso's works have hung drawings, these pieces were always considered supportive of--or even subordinate to--his paintings. But Tinterow notes that "for Picasso, line was supreme," and his drawings, while crucial to the understanding of his overall work, are important as independent art, because there are entire themes and approaches that Picasso explored in his drawings that never appeared in his paintings. Tinterow also regards the drawings as important in the context of Picasso's work because "there is no clear stylistic line separating Picasso's drawings and paintings." Picasso's art is a single entity, sometimes expressed through his painting, sometimes sculpture or drawing.

The exhibition is not competing with any other Picasso show, such as the Museum of Modern Art's definitive exhibition last year. The only thing the two shows have in common, other than a few pieces, is the crowd they will attract. At the Fogg, as in New York, hordes of interested people will shuffle through the galleries to look at the art, even though many of them don't like Picasso, and though many will be confused by what they see.

Some of them will know they are confused, and others will think they are not. But it is not shameful to be confused by Picasso, and only the most dishonest or pompous art historians will tell you they "understand" Picasso. It is therefore important to at least give yourself a fighting chance and look at the drawings in the context of the chronology of the artist's life, as they are hung. Unfortunately, the fact that the catalogue for the show will not appear until April 15--ten days after the exhibition will be disassembled--will make this difficult.

TINTEROW intends the exhibition to be a comprehensive yet selective representation of Picasso's best works, concentrating on his transitional and revolutionary phases: 1906-7, 1914, 1919, 1933, and his final years. But the Fogg puts these into context with works ranging from Picasso's earliest studies (drawn at age 13) to his self-portrait executed just months before his death.

Tinterow hasn't included many studies in the exhibition, but he makes exceptions for the preliminary drawings of the blue-period masterpiece, La Vie (1903) and a transitional sequence of studies for the infamous Les Demoiselles d'Avignon (1906-7). The exhibition's strongest points are the works between around 1905 and 1920, especially the brush drawings that illustrate the emergence of cubism in the fall of 1909.

One drawing stands out from this group, Head of a Woman, painted in Horta de Ebro of Picasso's lover Fernande. The drawing of crayon and guache shows a discernable change from Mill at Horta, painted in the same summer, as Picasso's style evolves into an increasingly geometrical and manipulative analysis of form. In the catalog, Tinterow explains the formal changes in Picasso's art during this intensely prolific summer. Another especially rich period well-represented is that of the early 1930s. The Studio of 1933 is an intriguing work that Tinterow says is related to Picasso's cubist works because it is a "juxtaposition of multiple states of reality in a single work." This complex still life incorporates many earlier specific themes and drawings into one image, giving new meaning to the old.

All throughout his life, Picasso drew and painted self-portraits, some more recognizable than others. Some have even contended that his minotaurs are self-portraits, but it is clear that the theme of his identity permeates all of his stylistic and other thematic changes. The last entry Tinterow makes in the catalogue and the last drawing in the chronology, is part of a series of self-portraits from the last year of his life, where Picasso "confronts" the concept of his own death by depicting himself in various ways. Here, the head is that of a skull, with sunken cheeks and hollowed eyes. Tinterow explains that Picasso realize the importance of his self-portraits, keeping a colored version of this drawing in his sitting room during the last months of his life.

With such strong works of art on exhibition, the absence of a catalogue may seem a small thing to criticize, but contemporary exhibitions are as much the artistry of the director of the show as of the artist whose work is hung. Catalogues play the role of interpreter, allowing the public to understand how and why the exhibition was selected and arranged.

Tinterow, like William Rubin in the New York MoMa show, has hung the works in chronological order. Simple, perhaps, for any other artist's work but for the genius of Picasso, two drawings executed even just months apart could be virtually unrelated and express entirely different facets of his life and world. The timeline of his work is not straight; it does not start at one point and end at another. Instead, Picasso spirals and soars, coming back to motifs and themes of his early life and also to those of his predecessors. The catalogue would facilitate what understanding is possible of Picasso's art as it is intimately connected with this actual experience: different moods and locations, lovers and models, fellow artists, tragedies of world conflict or those of personal loss.

BECAUSE TINTEROW'S selection process was deliberate and careful, the exhibition is easier to ingest than the MoMa show, which was ten times the size. Tinterow has successfully pared down Picasso's works on paper to a tight package, interesting to the giants of the art world, and intriguing to those who bring little previous knowledge of art to the Fogg. The exhibition is not one to be missed, and if the crowd of 1400 who came in out of the rain for the opening Thursday night is any indication, it will not be.