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spaceisavacuum 's review for:
Picasso: Creator And Destroyer
by Arianna Huffington
challenging
dark
informative
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
The approach of a new year brings new possibilities. Over all, I want to evolve, not only in improving my circumstances, but as far as books go- a lot more nonfiction. So, I figured why wait? And dove right into Arianna Stassinopoulos Huffington’s incredible biography of Pablo Picasso.
Picasso was a chaotic lover, a cruel and harsh manipulator. But also a profound and prominent artist, perhaps the most celebrated of his time. Following his career from adolescence, from drawing pigeon feet as prescribed by his father, and attending academies that were far below his level of merit even from his youth. It’s hard to imagine a person as loyal to his craft, and meticulously obsessed with fame and attaining deathless infamy, as Picasso. Painting for him became, his stubborn duty, his undying friend, his persistent obligation. For him, painting became his private narcotic, and his means to speak to the world. As am I, with reading.
Women, which were never in short demand, were ruled in tyranny. For, he was so toxic to them, that even while they were living illusions of his devotion, for he made strong impressions- his passion, for them, was unparalleled, and they for him. He had a harem of women throughout his life, that neither they nor him could detach from. His first wife, Olga, was obsessive to the point of shunning all women who he took interest to. Dora Maar’s spirit as an artist was pulverized, crushed, she was inadequate to meet his shallow propensities. The woman he perhaps loved most, was Marie-Therese, who received the most affectionate letters and maybe the only woman he cared about. Francois, was the badass lady, who salvaged the tyrannical life she lived by him- and managed to dissuade his every impetus. He desired to possess these women, he desired complete and voluntary submissiveness. Simply for who he was.
What a book. I need to go breathe some fresh air.
Picasso was a chaotic lover, a cruel and harsh manipulator. But also a profound and prominent artist, perhaps the most celebrated of his time. Following his career from adolescence, from drawing pigeon feet as prescribed by his father, and attending academies that were far below his level of merit even from his youth. It’s hard to imagine a person as loyal to his craft, and meticulously obsessed with fame and attaining deathless infamy, as Picasso. Painting for him became, his stubborn duty, his undying friend, his persistent obligation. For him, painting became his private narcotic, and his means to speak to the world. As am I, with reading.
Women, which were never in short demand, were ruled in tyranny. For, he was so toxic to them, that even while they were living illusions of his devotion, for he made strong impressions- his passion, for them, was unparalleled, and they for him. He had a harem of women throughout his life, that neither they nor him could detach from. His first wife, Olga, was obsessive to the point of shunning all women who he took interest to. Dora Maar’s spirit as an artist was pulverized, crushed, she was inadequate to meet his shallow propensities. The woman he perhaps loved most, was Marie-Therese, who received the most affectionate letters and maybe the only woman he cared about. Francois, was the badass lady, who salvaged the tyrannical life she lived by him- and managed to dissuade his every impetus. He desired to possess these women, he desired complete and voluntary submissiveness. Simply for who he was.
What a book. I need to go breathe some fresh air.