Pablo Picasso’s hails from Spain. Since we will be walking through his native country, it seemed reasonable for me to revisit his work so that we may appreciate any glimpse of it as we pass through.
In preparation, I ordered a book on his technique, and I took a gander at the memoir of his mistress, Francoise Gilot — “Life with Picasso.”
I found one of Picasso’s statements to Gilot pertinent to pilgrimages and relationships. He was being seductive to the 21-year-old French woman, but in doing so, he conveyed a valuable lesson when he downplayed the world’s view of him as an icon:
“If you want to come back again, by all means come,” he told her. “But if you do come, don’t come like pilgrims to Mecca. Come because you like me, because you find my company interesting, and because you want to have a simple, direct relationship with me. If you only want to see my paintings, you’d do just as well to go to a museum.”
Nancy and I are not walking on a pilgrimage to Santiago just to see relics or cathedrals. Not even to pay homage to St. James. We’re walking to be with each other and meet people. Pablo was right.
Too bad Picasso did not turn out to be a virtuous man, but he was talented beyond measure. I doubt we’ll see much of his influence on our trail, since he spent so much time in Paris and Barcelona, two cities not on our list. But we will pass through the northern Basque Country, home to Guernica, the Spanish city that was bombed by the Nazis during the Spanish Civil War.
Picasso conveyed the heartache and destruction of that event in a mural called Guernica, one of his most treasured pieces now on display in Madrid.
How coincidental that several books about the man show up in a cabin we are renting in rural Maryland for Labor Day weekend. It’s a small open dwelling built by an artist who has his art placed and plastered in every corner and space, floor to ceiling.
We walked into the home’s living room to find art supplies and the landlord’s admonition to create art. Having done my homework on the Spaniard Picasso, I was prepared to mimic his cubism with the tools at hand — colored pencils, paper, a ruler, some water colors, and markers.
If I do not find any of his influence apparent on the Camino de Santiago, I will have seen his influence on my sad, watercolor doodle, made in a cabin in the woods of Maryland on the way to Spain.
