Suite Vollard

In the second plate of the Suite Vollard, Picasso begins to introduce heavier line work into his etching, building the model in the foreground with hatched, volumetric marks. This approach gains momentum in the coming plates, to the point that plate nine is comprised of a field of crisscrossing lines that cover the entire image.

Upon closer inspection, this plate seems to show two views of the same figure, both seated on a draped bench. They are also treated differently; the woman in the background is depicted with simple contour lines while the other is heavily shaded and hatched to suggest volume.

This is also an early example in which Picasso contorts the figure in order to show simultaneous views, as seen in the torso of the figure in the foreground. This approach becomes increasingly important in his work of the mid-1930s in both painting and prints. The female figures in the “Sculptor’s Studio” prints of the Suite Vollard, which were etched a few years after the current plate, are more overtly distorted and twisted.

Sleeping is a common motif in Picasso’s work of this period; he used it to signify a number of emotional states, including loneliness, bliss, and ignorance. Several plates of the Suite Vollard show either the model or the artist asleep. Here, he shows two different models at rest in the studio, as if waiting for the artist to be ready for them. Along with the other introductory plates of the suite, it introduces another aspect of the process of making art—a leitmotif in the Suite Vollard. Each of these elements come together in a grand commentary on the relationship between art and life in the later forty-six “Sculptor’s Studio” plates that play a major role in the suite as a whole.

While the subject of two women is unusual within the Suite Vollard (most plates show a man and a woman), Picasso began to depict intimate scenes between two women with increasing frequency in the 1930s. This image is quite similar in composition and subject to a later 1932 print titled Femme veillant une Dormeuse (Bloch 238) and several monotypes that he created in 1933.i In each of these images, the seated woman at left resembles Marie-Thérèse Walter while the sleeping woman has more generalized features.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i See Brigitte Baer, Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 57-9, 68-9.

Picasso’s Suite Vollard has long been understood as the artist’s interpretation of the main theme behind the ancient myth of Pygmalion. In the story, a sculptor who has forsworn the female sex creates an ideal woman out of ivory and falls in love with it. He showers the figure with gifts and occasional caresses. Later, he prays to Venus to bring her to life and his wish is granted; they are married and bear a son. The central story—the love of the artist for his art—has captured the imaginations of artists and writers for centuries and many versions exist in painting and literature. Picasso’s interpretation is carried out by a sculptor whose features recall classical sculpture and a beautiful young model who resembles his mistress at the time, Marie-Thérèse Walter. However, Picasso goes beyond the basic myth and populates his scenes with sculptures of differing subjects and styles, as well as the presence of a living model that competes for his attentions. In so doing, he goes beyond the simplicity of the original story to create a grand allegory of the connection between art, life, and love.

Like Pygmalion, the sculptor in this image appears to be more in love with his creation than the flesh-and-blood model that lies behind him, who is also the subject of the artwork. She seems somewhat resigned to the situation, though she reminds him of her presence by draping her arm over him and holding his hand. On top of her head sits a mask that is similar to her own visage—perhaps a representation of the face on the sculpture that is out of view? Its presence seems to reinforce the connection between the sculpture and the model.

As noted, this scene is more psychologically complex than the simple tale of Pygmalion. This sculptor is more rooted in reality than fantasy, working from a live model rather than an idealized notion. However, the sculpture is more fascinating than the woman who inspired it. To complicate the matter further, the work would not exist without the model—they are completely connected. Picasso poses such problems as he delves through the relationship between art and passion in his “Sculptor’s Studio” etchings.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

Picasso’s Suite Vollard has long been understood as the artist’s interpretation of the main theme behind the ancient myth of Pygmalion. In the story, a sculptor who has forsworn the female sex creates an ideal woman out of ivory and falls in love with it. He showers the figure with gifts and occasional caresses. Later, he prays to Venus to bring her to life and his wish is granted; they are married and bear a son. The central story—the love of the artist for his art—has captured the imaginations of artists and writers for centuries and many versions exist in painting and literature. Picasso’s interpretation is carried out by a sculptor whose features recall classical sculpture and a beautiful young model who resembles his mistress at the time, Marie-Thérèse Walter. However, Picasso goes beyond the basic myth and populates his scenes with sculptures of differing subjects and styles, as well as the presence of a living model that competes for his attentions. In so doing, he goes beyond the simplicity of the original story to create a grand allegory of the connection between art, life, and love.
Like Pygmalion, the sculptor in this image appears to be in love with his creation. A real woman who resembles Picasso’s mistress, Marie-Thérèse Walter, looms behind him. She is out of scale with the others, almost larger-than-life, as if to assert her dominant role in the creation of the art that captures the sculptor’s attention. However, she is psychologically disconnected from the scene, gazing in another direction.

The pose of the sculpture in this etching bears more than a passing resemblance to that of the standing nude in Rembrandt’s famous etching The Artist and His Model, ca. 1639, which has also been interpreted as the Dutch artist’s version of the Pygmalion myth. Art historian Lisa Florman has successfully argued that Rembrandt’s plate was likely a source of inspiration for the Suite Vollard.i

As noted, this scene is more psychologically complex than the simple tale of Pygmalion. This sculptor is more rooted in reality than fantasy, working from a live model rather than an idealized notion. However, the sculpture is more fascinating than the woman who inspired it. To complicate the matter further, the work would not exist without the model—they are completely connected. Picasso poses such problems as he delves through the relationship between art and passion in his “Sculptor’s Studio” etchings.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Myth and Metamorphosis: Picasso’s Classical Prints of the 1930s. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2000, 128-39.

This image is unique in the Suite Vollard in that there are no females, nor sculptures of them, present. Because some of the players in this etching lie outside of the standard players who appear in the majority of the plates in the Suite Vollard, it is helpful to look at other examples of Picasso’s work for clues regarding the artist’s intention behind the image. Here, the bearded sculptor who is in the majority of the images has been transformed to a sculpture himself, looking out at the viewer. In his place is a young man who thoughtfully works on his creation. His classical profile resembles that of the young sailor who stands on the sidelines in the “Blind Minotaur” plates of the suite (Bloch 222, 223, 224 and 225). Though the symbolism of these later plates has been interpreted in a number of ways, this young marine has often been understood to represent Picasso’s younger self. In the same manner, the young sculptor here likely represents Picasso as a younger artist.

The sculptural group in this etching displays the jumbled limbs and disregard for gravity that Picasso employed in his plates for Ovid’s Les Métamorphoses, a project he completed in 1931. The youth at front (the ephebe), takes a particularly unlikely stance. The elder figure places a hand around him as if to guide and support him. A few plates from Les Métamorphoses also show groupings of young men with elders, and the theme of such images is generally that of apprenticeship. The central figure’s steadying presence seems to imply mentorship.

Putting all of these ideas together, it is likely that this image represents the spectrum of Picasso’s development as an artist, looking into the future from his youth. The sculpture represents the path he would take and the young sculptor who works on the figures is the talented youth that would be transformed to one of the greatest artists of all time.
The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper with a "Vollard" watermark. It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

With this in mind, it is appropriate to ask why the raw energy of this particular etching stands apart from its companion pieces. It is likely that the subject matter depicted in the sculptural group—the Rape of Europa—is what provoked such a vigorous response from the artist. In this story, Zeus transforms himself into a white bull in order to abduct a young maiden, swimming away with her to found the nation of Crete. Bulls had always been a source of fascination for Picasso; however, it was only around this time that his interest in the symbolic possibilities of the animal in his work deepened, blossoming into his famed images of the Minotaur—the mythical half-man, half-bull that became his alter-ego in the etchings of the mid-1930s.

The present plate was etched in late March of 1933. Picasso was most likely concurrently working on his cover image for the inaugural issue of Albert Skira’s forthcoming journal Minotaure, which was published on June 15. Many scholars agree that this project ignited Picasso’s deep involvement with the tale of the half-man, half-bull (though the story of the Minotaur appears in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Picasso’s previous project with Skira). In this etching, Picasso begins exploring the origins of the myth—the founding of the island nation of Crete, the Minotaur’s home—marking the artist’s entry point into the intense and dreamlike world that he later explores in the Minotaur etchings.

The central tale of the Rape of Europa must have also held some personal resonance with Picasso. The myth of a powerful older man who transforms himself into a bull and sequesters a beautiful young woman on an island for his own pleasure is not totally dissimilar to the story of Picasso and his young mistress, Marie-Thérèse Walter, depicted at upper right. As if to underscore the parallels between their own story and that of the myth, the sculptor and his model at right counterbalance the figures in the sculpture at left.

Picasso must have been aware that this ideal arrangement, reflected in the “Sculptor’s Studio” suite, was getting out of hand. At this point, their affair had been going on for over five years and his attraction to Marie-Thérèse was threatening to overcome him—tempting fate, he had even installed her in an apartment across the street from his family’s quarters. The rational and ordered world that is evoked in the “Sculptor’s Studio” suite begins to unravel here, and the Minotaur appears in the etchings within a number of weeks—a symbol of the powerful impulses he could not control.

This image is among the most complex of the “Sculptor’s Studio” etchings. It includes five figures, all of which are intertwined in a complex arrangement of limbs, joined together by extensive garlands that meander throughout the image and almost dominate the composition. By contrast, a majority of the other prints from this theme depict four figures at most, generally in relaxed poses and decorated with tame and controlled greenery.
The current impression is one of fifty signed and numbered deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

A handful of images in the “Sculptor’s Studio” suite, such as this one, show the sculptor intently at work with an expression of deep concentration and focus. They depict the creative act itself in service to the general theme—an exploration of the relationship between art and life, as well as the very nature of making art.

Though sculpture is generally the medium depicted, Picasso explores the relationship between two-dimensional and three-dimensional art in some of the plates. As noted by the art historian Lisa Florman, the contrast in styles between the left and right half of this image is more than just a whim—it cleverly calls attention to the fact that we are looking at an etched image. The model at left (who is clearly Picasso’s mistress, Marie-Thérèse Walter) is densely shaded and hatched, as are her lush surroundings. This approach draws attention to the process of building volume in two dimensions—while the very act of doing so in three dimensions is shown at right. Florman states that “in each case the emphasis is on the artist’s physical involvement with his work”—and thus, on the artistic process.i

Florman also points out that our profile view of the model corresponds to that of the sculptor toward his sculpture (but oddly, not that of the sculptor toward the model). Picasso, thus, is showing us not only what he sees during the creation process, but also the final product in both frontal and rear views. A number of images from the “Sculptor’s Studio” series share the same complex dual perspective, emphasizing Picasso’s role in the creation of the image before us.ii

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Myth and Metamorphosis: Picasso’s Classical Prints of the 1930s. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2000, 113.
ii ibid., 112-116.

The forty-six etchings of the “Sculptor’s Studio” series have long been understood as a meditation on the nature of art: its creation, its players, and its appreciation. The artist and model are depicted in a number of plates in appreciation of the fruits of their labor. The nature of appreciation, however, changes: quiet contemplation, active admiration, intellectual discussion, even ecstasy. This etching shows a peaceful and languorous moment in which a generous picture window, one of the largest amongst the “Sculptor’s Studio” images, opens on a yawning Arcadian field that is punctuated by a small vase of flowers at the middle right. This expansive and harmonious scene emphasizes the general air of repose and bliss.

The sculpture at right depicts Picasso's young mistress at the time, Marie-Thérèse Walter, who also serves as the model. Picasso became deeply involved with sculpture in the early 1930s. This image resembles some of his earlier work from that period, which was decidedly more traditional than the abstractions that came later in which he fused Walter’s nose and forehead in a prominent protrusion that dominates the face. (Likewise, Picasso’s earlier prints of Marie-Thérèse were also extremely naturalistic in comparison.)

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

This etching is very closely related Sculpteur songeant, modèle aux cheveux noirs et bol avec Trois Anémones (Bloch 177). The etchings were created on subsequent days (April 7 and 8, 1933) and both depict the sculptor examining his model: the two figures are in similar positions in each scene, with a mountainous landscape in the picture window behind them. However, the two etchings differ in tone, setting, and the treatment of the model.  In contrast to Bloch 177, which is more physical in nature, this image is best described as a complex cerebral puzzle—a meditation on the nature of Picasso’s relationship with his model and, therefore, on the more universal aspects of this time-tested arrangement.

The various elements at play have attracted much speculation over time. The woman depicted is clearly Marie-Thérèse Walter, Picasso’s lover at the time. Likewise, the bearded sculptor in the Suite Vollard has long been understood as an avatar for the artist. He watches the beautiful young woman, adorned with a garland of flowers, as she preens herself in front of a mirror that is propped up against a sculpted head of the artist (which also appears in a number of other plates of the Suite Vollard). Each of these contributes to the ideas expressed in the etching.

Perhaps the most noticeable aspect of this plate is the fact that the model is heavily shaded and more detailed than the rest of the image. Picasso, thus, calls to our attention that her likeness is in fact a work of art, highlighting the handwork and labor that are involved in the process. Likewise, our eye is drawn to this area of the composition—the focus is on the model, who is posing and admiring herself in the mirror. The artist himself seems to be somewhat amused and bored by her activities, but his alter-ego as presented in the sculpted head below (concealed behind the mirror) appears to be alarmed, or at least bothered.

Marie-Thérèse is known to have little understanding of Picasso’s art, and often complained that she could not see a likeness in his portraits of her. She is represented in this plate perhaps as she would have preferred—pretty, volumetric, naturalistic. Therefore, it is possible to interpret this image as a representation of the dichotomy between Marie-Thérèse’s simple personality and her role as an inspiration for Picasso’s work. The sculpted head behind the mirror reveals Picasso’s hidden feelings on the matter (his artist identity), while the living man at right (as lover) tolerates the situation with a touch of amusement.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

The forty-six etchings of the “Sculptor’s Studio” series have long been understood as a meditation on the nature of art: its creation, its players, and its appreciation. The activity here is a clear example of the latter. In this image, a “bonne” (maid) daydreams, her arm resting on an oversized head of the sculptor. Though out of place, she seems to be pleased by what she sees. If Picasso intended to comment on the appreciation of art in his Suite, he sends a clear message in this image that it can (and should) be enjoyed by all.

While many of the sculptures represented in the “Sculptor’s Studio” suggest actual works that Picasso created during the same period, a number of them are more in line with classical marbles. The female nude, seen from behind, follows the general ideals of feminine beauty in ancient Greek and Roman sculpture. The head below, with its curly hair and luxurious beard, recalls the Roman portraiture tradition and appears in a number of plates of the Suite Vollard.
The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

The forty-six etchings of the “Sculptor’s Studio” series have long been understood as a meditation on the nature of art: its creation, its players, and its appreciation. In this image, we have elements of all three. The model (who resembles Marie-Thérèse Walter, Picasso’s mistress) contemplates a sculpture of her torso. Her relaxed posture and the lush surroundings underscore the languorous atmosphere of the studio.

The style Picasso used in this plate is different from the majority of the prints in the Suite Vollard, which are generally composed of simple contour lines. Here, the two figures are covered in hatch marks and heavily shaded. The walls of the studio are also textured. Picasso’s heavily-worked image seems to draw attention to the very fact that it is a work of art, thus completing a clever visual puzzle: we admire a work of art that represents a work of art and the very model for that work, who is also—in reality—a representation.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions of the fourth (final) state with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

The pretty young model in this image studies an abstract Surrealist sculpture of herself, clearly somewhat perplexed. The young woman is, of course, Picasso’s mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter. Surrealism had taken hold of the Parisian art world when this plate was created. Picasso seems to be having a little fun here, both with the fact that Marie-Thérèse was unable to fully appreciate the avant-garde artwork her lover created, as well as indulging in a little playful fantasy of the possibilities of Surrealist sculpture. The whimsical figure is composed of a variety of objects and textures, from furniture legs to textiles, and her bead-like eyes seem to peer at the living woman with an equal level of curiosity, almost as if she finds her alien as well.

Though Picasso was heavily involved in sculpture throughout the early 1930s, and was friends with many of the leaders of Surrealism, he never actually created sculpture along these lines. He generally distanced himself from the movement, though he was interested in some of the ideas behind Surrealism borrowing from some of its theories on occasion for his own purposes. The Minotaur—a half-bull, half-man figure that becomes the artist’s alter ego in later etchings of the Suite Vollard and in his master print Minotauromachy—is the only aspect of his work that he openly connected to Surrealist influences.

In this image, Picasso politely introduces the Minotaur into the Suite Vollard and to his viewers. The irony and humor of this image provides a light counterpoint to the more intensely symbolic and emotive etchings of the Minotaur, which show him in a variety of scenarios. Taking the place of the distinguished bearded sculptor of prior etchings in the suite—lying in repose in the comfort of the lush studio—the beast looks over his shoulder and raises a glass of wine to the audience with a smile. Aside from his startling physiognomy, he is the picture of a perfect gentleman. The beautiful young model (who clearly resembles Picasso’s lover Marie-Thérèse Walter) looks at him gamely—she is clearly unfazed by this beast’s sudden appearance as her lover, as if nothing has changed. And why should it be otherwise? As she revealed later in life, Marie-Thérèse was entirely comfortable and familiar with the two sides of the artist, saying “I always cried with Pablo Picasso… [he was] wonderfully terrible”.i

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i As quoted by Jill Berk Jimenez in The Dictionary of Artist’s Models, Routledge, 2001, 556.  

In this etching, the Minotaur abruptly breaks away from his well-mannered composure in the prior plate to a scene of open sexuality. The beast and his lover (who resembles Marie-Thérèse Walter, Picasso’s young mistress) are engaged in a dramatic pose: he grasps her with vampiric possession and her splayed limbs suggest a struggle. In a visual oxymoron, a nearby flutist and maiden regard the scene with mild pleasure, as if they are witnesses to a play or performance. This pair is familiar from Jeune Bacchus au Tambourin avec une Bacchante (Bloch 212) and Flûtiste et Jeune Fille au Tambourin (Bloch 213) of the Suite, in which they are featured on their own. In front of them is a table of refreshments including a platter of oysters, which have long been thought to have aphrodisiacal properties.

Above the center of drama looms an oversized sculpted head—a portrait of the sculptor who has been replaced by the Minotaur. He stares passively, but the size and placement indicate that his presence is still powerful and perhaps dominant. This head appears in a number of other plates of the Suite Vollard and seems to function as an alter-ego for the artist, as does the Minotaur. As such, this plate presents a rare example of Picasso showing both sides of his personality in one image, reminiscent of the classic tale of Jekyll and Hyde. Such a depiction may have also been inspired by Freud’s theory of the id, ego, and super-ego. The nascent science of psychoanalysis was highly influential for the Surrealists and though Picasso generally did not associate himself with the movement, he was surely familiar with its basic tenets.

The second sculpted head has been understood in the past to represent the artist as well, as is clear in the interpretive title assigned to the print by catalogue raisonné author Brigitte Baer which translates to Self-Portrait in Three Forms: Crowned Painter, Bust of the Sculptor, and Amorous Minotaur. However, Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye notes that it may have been intended to represent Marie- Thérèse.i If so, perhaps Picasso is showing both himself and his lover in their various guises.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, 49.

As Picasso delved further into his exploration of the Minotaur (this is the third plate to appear in the Suite Vollard), the scene in the studio becomes increasingly unfettered. Here, the beast and his counterpart, the sculptor, completely immerse themselves in pleasures of the flesh—wine, women, and repose. While the sculptor (in the form of a massive sculpted head) dominated the previous etching in the series, the Minotaur takes command of the scene here, dwarfing his human counterpart and raising his glass in a grand and encompassing gesture.

The two male figures have been traditionally understood to represent the two sides of the artist’s personality and Picasso emphasizes this idea in the poses of the two female models, which compliment and mirror one another. These passive and purely sexual beings are both clearly the same woman, Picasso’s mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter. As noted by Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, man and beast are additionally visually linked by a profusion of body hair and by the “compositional distortion of the Minotaur’s right leg, extending into the bottom center”.i She also points out that the sculptor has lost his crown of laurel in this image—a traditional symbol of valor in the Roman Empire.

This and the previous plate in the series are rare examples of Picasso showing both sides of his personality in one image, reminiscent of the classic tale of Jekyll and Hyde. The idea may have also been inspired by Freud’s theory of the id, ego, and super-ego. The nascent science of psychoanalysis was highly influential for the Surrealists and though Picasso generally did not associate himself with the movement, he was surely familiar with its basic tenets.

While earlier images of the sculptor and his model also suggest post-coital repose, it is of a much more refined nature. The complete abandon and sultry atmosphere of this image makes it one of the more purely and openly sexual scenes in the history of art, confounding several centuries of convention and restraint in the depiction of physical love. Picasso’s unbridled expression of this largely unspoken and private side of human existence remains revelatory, even in the current age of media saturation.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, 50.

The fifteen Minotaur plates of the Suite Vollard show the beast in a variety of scenarios and moods. Here, he has comfortably taken the place of the distinguished and handsome sculptor of the “Sculptor’s Studio” series as lover of the beautiful model. The sheer drapery on either side of the composition suggests secrecy and drama, inviting the viewer into this bizarre, yet pleasant, world. The beast casually embraces his mistress in the sumptuous surroundings of the studio—above them, a picture window reveals an Arcadian landscape. They smile absently, looking directly at the viewer, as if to present a challenge of acceptance for their unnatural love.

In this image and Marie-Thérèse, en Vestale, veillant le Minotaure endormi (Bloch 193) of the Suite Vollard, the Minotaur sleeps under the watchful eye of his lover, and, thus, Picasso presents an unexpectedly human and tender side of his mythical beast. He coaxes a sympathetic response from the viewer for the Minotaur’s weakness and tenderness, though our initial reaction to seeing such a creature would be revulsion.

The current impression is a proof printed before steelfacing outside the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

Though Picasso preferred to remain at a professional distance from the Surrealist movement, he was friends with many of its players and had interest in their ideas. In images such as this, he toys with the basic lines of inquiry of the Surrealists: myth, dream, and subconscious. The five faces in this etching weave in and out of view, representing a complex drama that has been interpreted in a number of ways over the years. The reclined woman at the lower right closely resembles Picasso’s mistress, Marie-Thérèse Walter. Above, the primary actors of the “Sculptor’s Studio” series (the sculptor and his model, who is also Marie-Thérèse) loom over her, casting a somewhat wary eye to the left, while the man simultaneously raises a glass. At left, the same Minotaur who licentiously devoured the beautiful blond in previous images removes himself from the object of his attentions to casually remove his mask, revealing himself to be a harmless young man (or woman?). Tied around his waist below is a costume tail.

Freud, whose ideas held great sway with the Surrealists, would have had much to say about this image. The young man or woman at left resembles both Marie-Thérèse and the passive sailor in the later “Blind Minotaur” plates, who has often been interpreted to represent Picasso’s younger self. Can we then assume that the Minotaur is symbolic of impulsive youthful behavior and that both Picasso and his mistress are complicit in this sexual abandon? To the right, the same two figures, represented more or less as themselves, seem to both applaud and slightly fear this unruly side of their own natures.

Alternatively, catalogue raisonné author Brigitte Baer has suggested that the model at the lower right is daydreaming and the remaining figures represent her dream (her interpretation is apparent in the descriptive title she assigned to the piece, Marie-Thérèse rêvant de métamorphoses : Elle-Même et le sculpteur buvant avec un jeune acteur grec jouant le rôle du Minotaure (Marie-Thérèse Dreaming of Metamorphoses: Herself and the Sculptor Drinking with a Young Greek Actor Playing the Role of the Minotaur). Meanwhile, MoMA curator Deborah Wye sees the masked figure at left as a woman only—another representation of Marie-Thérèse. Because Picasso never titled his prints and refused to comment on his work, his true thoughts behind this image will remain a topic of conjecture.

It is interesting to note that this etching began as a much simpler scene in which a seated sculptor and Minotaur toast to one another, each with a glass in hand. They seem to be celebrating their mutual conquest over the lovely young model, lying nude between them, lost in a daydream. In later states, the Minotaur is reduced to a costume, one glass is removed, and Marie-Thérèse’s visage emerges from the middle center. The psychology of the drama becomes increasingly complex with each change.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

This is among the most powerful and emotionally evocative prints of the Suite Vollard. In this plate, the Minotaur is shown at his weakest and most vulnerable. As he tenderly caresses his sleeping lover, his contracted body and gasping mouth also suggest that he is pained. Interestingly, the beast is in a similar pose in Minotaure amoureux d’une femme-centaure (Bloch 195) and Minotaur blessé (Bloch 196) of the Suite. The connection between all three images suggests that the same passion that ignites the beast’s ardor results in suffering and his eventual downfall. Nearly a decade later, Picasso commented on this print when showing it to a subsequent lover: “He’s studying her, trying to read her thoughts…trying to decide whether she loves him because he’s a monster…It’s hard to say whether he wants to wake her or kill her”.i

Sleeping is a common motif in Picasso’s work of this period and he used it to signify a number of emotional states, including loneliness, bliss, and ignorance—all three in this case. His lover, dozing blissfully, is ignorant of her effect on him and of his internal conflict; the woman is clearly Marie-Thérèse Walter, Picasso’s mistress at the time. She is known to have been fond of naps, but perhaps more importantly, unable to appreciate or understand her lover’s art. The psychological and emotional divide between the Minotaur, who represents the artist, and the object of his affections, is implicit in the beast’s gesture and the fact that she does not respond.

Interestingly, a complimentary plate in the Minotaur series shows the Minotaur asleep while the lover stands watch over him (Marie-Thérèse, en Vestale, veillant le Minotaure endormi, Bloch 193). This image similarly suggests that Picasso’s attraction to Marie-Thérèse was overpowering, leaving him with a sense of entire reliance on her. In the etching, a sweet smile on her face conveys adoration and tenderness, an indication that he felt she could be trusted with this power implicitly.

There are only a few prints in the Suite Vollard that are composed entirely in drypoint. Picasso favored the technique in his early prints, but by the mid-1930s, he worked primarily in etching. His use of the drypoint here thus represents a distinct choice and an extremely sophisticated level of artistic discernment. The action of the needle carving directly into the plate results in somewhat staccato lines that underscore the raw emotional quality of the image. In addition, the burr of metal that is displaced to the surface results in a velvety black line that enhances the tactility of the beast’s pelt, emphasizing his animal nature.

Also apparent in this image is the influence of Rembrandt, whose outrageous personality features in four earlier plates of the series. Rembrandt was a master of all intaglio techniques, often combining etching with drypoint. Those impressions that include burr from the old master’s drypoint needle are particularly highly prized (an untreated burr wears down quickly, after about thirty impressions, and the steelfacing process was not invented until the nineteenth century). Picasso’s use of drypoint here shows a similar level of mastery with the technique. In addition, like Rembrandt often did, Picasso uses stark contrasts of light and dark (chiaroscuro) to punctuate the composition and draw out its inherent dynamic of good and evil.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Françoise Gilot, Life with Picasso, Virago Press, 1990 [reprint of 1964 McGraw-Hill edition], 42.

Picasso once discussed this particular plate with his long-time dealer Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, who recorded the artist’s words in his journal a week later: “Imagine, I made a portrait of Rembrandt. I was another case of the cracking varnish. I had an accident with the plate and said to myself, it’s ruined so I’ll do any old thing on it. I began to scribble and it turned into Rembrandt. I liked it so much I continued. I then even made a second”.i

References to Rembrandt’s work are apparent in the image. At center of is the visage of Rembrandt himself, reminiscent of the Dutch artist’s 1638 Self-Portrait in a Velvet Cap with Plume. He is surrounded by studies of Picasso’s mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter in various styles. This kind of loose study composition is very similar to Rembrandt’s plates Studies of the Head of Saskia and Others or Sheet of Studies (with head of the artist), ca. 1632, though of course Picasso has made it his own. As noted by scholar Janie Cohen, the areas of cross-hatching in this plate also suggest Rembrandt’s etching style.ii

The image as a whole demonstrates Picasso’s virtuosity as an artist, and is clearly in homage to the great Dutch artist’s etchings. As discussed by MFA, Boston curator of prints Clifford Ackley, it is a “doubly fitting homage to the older artist because it is a perfect example of the kind of seemingly casual, but calculatedly artful, etched sketch plate that Rembrandt did so much to foster”.iii

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

The subject of beautiful young women bathing has been treated by artists throughout the centuries. In this image, Picasso shows two elegant and athletic nudes, both of whom resemble his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter, at a traditional bath, apparently in conversation. One rests on a stone bench while the other dries her hair, standing in the water. Though the standing figure’s mouth is obscured by her raised arm, the two share eye contact and the one at left seems to be listening intently to her companion’s words. Picasso indicates the water level with a few subtle strokes at the standing woman’s knees, and a simple horizontal line at center.

Picasso brings a modern twist to this traditional scene by playing with the formal elements of the composition where the two women overlap, distorting it in a number of ways. The standing woman’s left leg is out of proportion to the rest of the body and her torso twists in a somewhat unnatural way in order to show her feminine attributes to their greatest advantage. Likewise, the foot of the seated woman should rightly be obscured by the standing woman’s hips. Such exaggerations and illogical abstractions become increasingly pronounced in Picasso’s work over the following decade, particularly in his depictions of the female body.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

The forty-six etchings of the “Sculptor’s Studio” series have long been understood as a meditation on the nature of art: its creation, its players, and its appreciation. In this context, the present plate can be understood as a reference to the use of costume and props in the studio. While a majority of the figures in the Suite Vollard are nude, sometimes adorned with a bit of garland, the two models here wear various garments and accessories. The hat on the seated model at left is so exaggerated in its nineteenth-century style as to be almost costume-like.

The chin strap and pearls she wears heighten the effect of artifice. Likewise, the drapery on the model at right is dramatic—she is wrapped to the point of constriction, particularly around the throat. Neither of the models reference any similar imagery in Picasso’s work—this plate appears to be a singular flight of fancy for the artist. However, as is the case for a majority of the images in the Suite, the women shown bear a close resemblance to the artist’s young blonde mistress, Marie-Thérèse Walter.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

This etching anticipates the carefree bacchanalian themes that Picasso preferred in the mid- and late 1940s, and fits in with the generally classical theme of the Suite Vollard as a whole. It is closely related to the previous plate in the series, Jeune Bacchus au Tambourin avec une Bacchante (Bloch 212). Both images show a young woman who is enjoying music played by a young man, conveyed in simple contour lines. However, in this plate the two figures are clothed and seem to be engrossed in the act of making music, whereas the couple in the earlier plate is distracted by flirtation. The woman at left holds a tambourine in her hand, though she does not play, and stares into the distance as she listens to her companion. Perhaps she is waiting for her moment to join in the song.

The current impression is from the standard edition of 260 with modest margins on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso” (there was also an edition of 50 on wide margins with a separate watermark and a small edition of three impressions). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The prints remained unpublished upon the untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 and were later issued in 1948 by the dealer Henri Petiet.

Picasso once said that he could feel the presence of the great masters that came before him in the studio, looking over his work. In this etching, an image of Rembrandt seems to hover in the window, like an apparition, over the two models. It is almost as if Picasso has presented us with his own view as he works. The beautiful young models seem unaware of the Dutch artist’s presence, further reinforcing the idea that he is only visible to the artist.

Rembrandt’s skill and innovation in the medium of etching was a particular challenge to Picasso and he aspired to match the old master’s achievement in his own intaglio work—and began to make significant progress toward this goal around the time this plate was created. Picasso delighted in pushing the conventional boundaries of the medium, much to the dismay of his printers. As noted by Picasso scholar Brigitte Baer, “while he was obliged to accept the fact that there were rules, Picasso’s very character would have made him reject them…The conventional techniques, misused and mistreated, are forced to yield to the circumstances. Anything goes in order to give form to his conceptions”.i

In the case of this etching, the uneven grayish shading that appears in the drapery and background, which would traditionally be interpreted as a “mistake,” was likely an experiment to obtain the effect of an ink wash without the use of aquatint. Though it can be difficult to retrace the technique used for such an unconventional approach, he likely scraped the ground to the point that there was little left to hold the ink once the area had been etched. As a result, the ink pools around the edges and is wiped clean from the center, leaving silvery areas with a reverse halo.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Picasso the Engraver: Selections from the Musée Picasso, Paris The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 1997, 56.

The forty-six etchings of the “Sculptor’s Studio” series have long been understood as a meditation on the nature of art: its creation, its players, and its appreciation. While a majority of the prints show a generalized studio scene, a few are more specific homages to great artists who preceded Picasso. Though the sculptor here could easily be mistaken for the more generalized, almost stereotypically handsome artist who appears in a majority of the images, on second look this man’s hooked nose, balding head, wiry eyebrows, and fleshy cheeks indicate a portrait of an individual, specifically Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (1827-1873), a nineteenth-century sculptor who was revered in his time and is still highly regarded in France. His signature style was influential in shaping French identity and visual culture during the Second Napoleonic Empire. His work was collected by royalty and he was commissioned to create a number of highly publicized sculptures for public buildings during Haussmann’s renovation of Paris.

The sculpture at the right is the key to correctly identifying Carpeaux—a variation on his sculpture La Danse, 1865-69, commissioned for the Paris Opera. Parisian society was initially shocked when Carpeaux unveiled the work, which depicts a free-flowing group of nymphs that surround a male figure embodying the spirit of the dance. The naturalism of the cavorting nudes and their proximity to the male at center was thought to be overly suggestive. (Following the general pattern of public art in Paris, it eventually became an icon of the city and is now a source of public pride.) Picasso’s homage to the artist indicates his admiration for the sense of movement Carpeaux was able to covey in La Danse, a quality he has emulated here in his own interpretation of the circle of nudes at right.

Beyond the reference to Carpeaux, it is impossible to ignore the fact that the three dancing women also closely resemble Henri Matisse’s famous paintings and murals on the same theme, particularly in the distortion of the arms and bodies of the three women. The friendly rivalry between Matisse and Picasso is well documented and the elder artist’s influence on Picasso is apparent in several prints of this period. Picasso often visited Matisse’s studio and incorporated the innovations he found there into his own work—which certainly seems to be the case here. Their competitive friendship and mutual regard was explored in depth in the 2002 exhibition Matisse/Picasso at the Museum of Modern Art.

The sculptural group in this image is also reminiscent of Picasso’s earlier etchings on the theme of The Three Graces, which he visited in a handful of prints during the early 1920s. Here, all three women in the sculpture can be clearly identified as Marie-Thérèse Walter, Picasso’s mistress. The vase of flowers that sits below the sculptural group enhances the exuberant and sensual nature of the scene.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

When Picasso created this abstracted portrait of his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter, he had been involved in an intense and covert affair with her for over seven years. While Picasso initially shied away from literal depictions of his mistress, at this point his inhibitions have faded and she is to be found everywhere in his art, both in group scenes and in portraiture. Though a majority of Picasso’s etchings from the 1930s center around Classicizing scenes in which she is featured prominently, he also made several abstracted portraits of Marie-Thérèse during this period.

This particular engraving was included amongst the one hundred plates of the Suite Vollard, though many of Picasso’s heads and busts of Marie-Thérèse stand alone. It is the only true portrait of her in the Suite (she is more generalized, idealized, or symbolic in other plates) and it is also set apart in its style. While he used a loose and flowing line in a majority of the images, here he employed a more rigorous geometric approach that borrows elements from Cubism, the breakthrough movement Picasso founded with Georges Braque earlier in his career. By the mid-1930s, when this print was made, Surrealism was the dominant force in the Parisian art scene. Picasso was friends with many of its leaders, but he generally distanced himself from the movement and followed his own path during this period. Still, he was not averse to borrowing from their ideas when it suited his purpose.

Picasso mingles elements of both movements in this image. The fragmented and flattened space that defined Cubism is apparent in the armchair upon which she sits, which is shown from a number of angles. In addition, its outer edges establish an illusionistic frame that focuses our attention on the subject. The overlapping lines in Marie-Thérèse’s face suggest volume, movement and the passage of time—the influence of Surrealism resides in Picasso’s choice of subject: a dreaming woman who is both awake and asleep. As noted by Museum of Modern Art curator emerita Deborah Wye, this “duality conjures up realms of the conscious and unconscious, central preoccupations of the Surrealists at this time”.i Though Picasso’s work is not intimately connected with the Surrealist movement, he was close with many of its leaders and incorporated some of their ideas into his work of the 1920s and ‘30s.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper, outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from The Museum of Modern Art [New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2010], 126.

This is one of the most important etchings in the Suite Vollard as a whole, and the most complex image amongst the forty-six plates of the “Sculptor’s Studio” theme. The series has long been understood as a meditation on the nature of art: its creation, its players, and its appreciation. While a majority of the prints show a generalized studio scene, a few are more specific homages to great artists who preceded Picasso. Scholar Brigitte Baer has effectively argued that Picasso’s inspiration for this image was likely the work of Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (1780-1867), particularly Le Bain Turc (The Turkish Bath), 1862, which depicts a harem of nude women bathing.i Though this controversial painting was in private hands for a number of decades, it entered the collection of the Louvre in 1911, and Picasso was certainly familiar with it. Ingres was among the pantheon of artists Picasso considered to be the major figures in the history of art and he likely studied his work in great detail.

Ingres had a deep appreciation for the sensual pleasures of the feminine body, and his Le Bain Turc has sometimes been dismissed as a hedonistic indulgence in the flesh with little else to recommend it. While Picasso unquestionably shared the elder painter’s fascination with women, his harem is decidedly different in tone. Rather than showing a sea of young, voluptuous nudes, Picasso depicted his women as individuals, using a different style of representation for each of them to convey a variety of personalities. In contrast to the physical abandon of Ingres’ bath scene, Picasso’s image is decidedly more cerebral and symbolic in nature, and shows women in a complex light.

The four women depicted are relaxing in a domestic interior, apparently engaged in conversation. Our eye is immediately drawn to the woman at right, who leans over the bed in a suggestive pose. Her intense, mask-like features, combined with her gaze toward the viewer, command attention. She seems to be listening to the woman whose head rests in the lap of the seated woman at left, both of whom resemble Marie-Thérèse Walter, Picasso’s mistress at the time. The woman fixing her dark curly hair at left center is not immediately recognizable, though she appears in a number of other plates of the Suite Vollard, often serving as a counterpoint to Marie-Thérèse. At upper center, a large male portrait head, whose curly locks and luxurious beard recall the Roman portraiture tradition, looms over the women. This head appears in a number of other plates of the Suite Vollard and seems to stand in for the artist when he is not present.

Stylistically, it is interesting to note that the two images of Marie-Thérèse at left represent the evolution of Picasso’s art during their love affair. His earliest portraits of Marie-Thérèse are sweet and naturalistic, in the style of the woman at left, while his later images of her feature a distinctive profile with a prominent fused nose and forehead, which can be seen on the reclining woman. The mask-like face on the woman at right is an example of Picasso’s interest in the art of Africa and Oceania—he is known to have owned an extensive collection of masks that he displayed both in his studio and at home. They served as inspiration throughout his career, taking center stage in his so-called “primitivist” period from 1907-1910, exemplified by his famous 1907 painting Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. Selected masks in Picasso’s collection may have also influenced the development of the phallic nose Picasso used to depict Walter, seen here in the reclining figure.ii

Picasso went to great pains to perfect his vision for this plate, taking it through five states, each of which substantially altered the overall impact of the print. In the earliest states, the recumbent figure that stretches across the lower center of the canvas was a more traditional odalisque with her head on a pillow, and the seated woman at left was situated behind her. He then dramatically altered the position of these two women, adding legs to the seated woman and placing the reclined nude’s head in her lap. The preening woman and the sculpted male head at center, as well as the general environs and composition remain similar throughout, but he slowly builds up the shadowing around them, eventually achieving a Rembrandt-like chiaroscuro effect. Picasso deeply admired the Dutch artist, whose position as the undisputed master of etching motivated the Spaniard to equal this achievement, a goal he achieved during this time period, as seen in this plate and several others of the Suite Vollard. However, the most significant and interesting change in the plate is the face of the woman at right, which alters dramatically in the final state to what we see now. In the first four versions of the plate, she is a pretty, voluptuous blond with a sweet expression that is almost cartoon-like. Had Picasso not made this change, it would have been a much less memorable image overall and would likely not hold its current place among his most important prints.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 79.
ii Deborah Wye, A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, 37.

This plate is Picasso’s initial foray into the theme of the Blind Minotaur. Interestingly, he chose to work on a plate with which he had already worked a few months earlier—at the upper left is an inverted image of the Death of Marat (Bloch 282) that Picasso had originally produced to accompany a book of poems by the surrealist Benjamin Péret. His decision to reuse this image as a foundation for the Blind Minotaur was likely a careful one, as the subject of the smaller image relates symbolically to the overall theme. Marat was one of the most important political figures in the French Revolution and his fiery journalism and public speeches incited the masses to action. He was stabbed in the heart while bathing by the royalist sympathizer and aristocrat Charlotte Corday, who had requested audience with him under the pretense of providing information about protest activities in the north of France. Picasso shows Corday as a beastly creature swept up in a rage, plunging her kitchen knife into Marat’s chest, his body already draped over the edge of the bathtub in death.

In her analysis of this plate, art historian Lisa Florman argues that Picasso’s representation of the political martyr’s death was most likely inspired by Jacques-Louis David’s 1793 treatment of the same subject, which many historians cite as the first Modern painting.i David was a friend and follower of Marat, and his now famous canvas memorializes the journalist in a manner that had been previously reserved for religious figures—at the time, a radical move. The conventions of academic painting, which regulated the visual arts, confined images of secular figures to portraiture, and David’s image opened the gates for artists to paint heroic scenes of contemporary figures. As previously noted, Picasso’s interest in David’s painting was likely purely symbolic. Picasso scholar Brigitte Baer points out that the Marat figure closely resembles his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter and scholars have thus interpreted the violently enraged murderess as his wife Olga Khokhlova.ii If so, the image is symbolic of Picasso’s worst fears regarding possible outcomes for his indiscretion with Walter—perhaps his gesture of inverting and cancelling out the image was meant to banish the possibility, as he was a highly superstitious man. (This was in keeping with his Catalan upbringing, as noted in Françoise Gilot’s Life with Picasso [Virago Press, 1990, reprint of 1964 McGraw-Hill edition], 230-2).

Against this backdrop of violence and martyrdom Picasso begins his theme of the Blind Minotaur. Baer suggests that the Death of Marat scene, around which Picasso drew a frame, is like a broken mirror toward which “his love for Marie-Thérèse…is leading him on blindly”.iii The fishermen, who are clearly alarmed, seem powerless to stop him. The young sailor at left, whom scholars have interpreted to represent the artist as a young man, watches passively as the middle-aged Minotaur marches toward his destruction at the hands of the innocent young girl with a bouquet of flowers (Marie-Thérèse).

It is interesting to note that Picasso built this image painstakingly—after sketching the initial foundation in drypoint, he engraved the dark lines with a burin—a slow and technical process. Because he was working from his personal studio in Boisegeloup, he printed the proofs himself and burnished lines as required (these leave a ghostly mark that provide depth to the negative areas of the composition). In all, he changed the plate twelve times before settling on this final version.iv This carefully composed image—among the few engravings he created in his career—sets the standard for the three Blind Minotaur images to come. He changes the technical approach, rearranges some of the figures and changes details, but the basic components are in place.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Myth and Metamorphosis: Picasso’s Classical Prints of the 1930s. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2000, 152-3.
ii Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 87.
iii Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 91.
iv See Brigitte Baer, Picasso the Engraver: Selections from the Musée Picasso, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1997, 71.

In the first “Blind Minotaur” image of the Suite Vollard, the weather is fair; however, here Picasso shows his cast of characters in a storm. The water is agitated and rain pours vertically and horizontally, spilling off of the fishermen’s boat as they struggle to secure the sail. Their expressions of concern have deepened to open-mouthed fear and horror. The Minotaur maintains the same position, expression, and gesture in all four plates, but the little girl (who looks like Picasso’s mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter) changes somewhat. Here she wears a determined expression, bracing against the wind and rain. Rather than a bouquet of flowers, she protectively clutches a dove—a symbolic but also factual detail (Marie-Thérèse kept doves and pigeons as pets).i The young sailor who is thought to represent Picasso as a young man maintains his composure, seated casually on a post to the right, even smiling contentedly as if he enjoys the spectacle.

Aside from the complex iconography, the technical aspects of this print are also worth noting. Picasso was a highly inventive and independent artist who had little regard for conventional technique. This was apparent in all of his work, and particularly so in etchings such as the present example. In an almost expressionistic approach, Picasso conveys the tumultuous skies and water of the composition using a combination of etching and rigorous use of the scraper, as noted by Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye in A Picasso Portfolio.ii It may have been this very plate that Picasso scholar Brigitte Baer had in mind when she stated that “Picasso’s use of the scraper is exceptional. Handled with extreme vigor, his scraper skids…and leaves a sort of wavelet along its path. The surface of the plate takes on a tortured aspect which produces a strong tone. This is that much the more irregular since Picasso’s scraper, always chipped, never sharpened, claws at the copperplate like some sort of gardening tool. Picasso said that Rembrandt too scraped away like a madman…and that he really could not see why anyone would criticize these tones, and that they were perfect just as they were”.iii Time has proven him correct: the intensity of his approach in such images brilliantly enhances the emotional tone. It is also interesting to note that Rembrandt’s influence, which is a strong presence throughout the Suite Vollard, is again evident here.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i See Deborah Wye, A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, 34.
ii ibid., 57.
iii Picasso the Engraver: Selections from the Musée Picasso, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1997, 71.

This plate was created in November of 1934 and shares the complex iconography and psychological drama of later plates in the suite. The candle that illuminates the young woman in this scene also appears in one of Picasso’s most celebrated prints, La Minotauromachie (Bloch 288) of 1935—a deeply charged and somewhat disturbing etching. Here, the mood is somber. The young man who appears in the sidelines of the later plates of the Suite Vollard takes a starring role, quietly gazing at a beautiful and voluptuous sleeping woman who is bathed in candlelight. The composition and subject are also quite similar to the following plate in the series (according to Hans Bolliger’s numbering system), Faune dévoilant une Dormeuse (Jupiter et Antiope, d'après Rembrandt) (Bloch 230). This image was created much later, in June of 1936, but Bolliger likely placed the two etchings in sequence due to their similarities. In each plate, a sleeping nude who resembles Picasso’s mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter is bathed in soft light. As she slumbers, she is gazed upon by a male admirer. In Garçon pensif veillant une Dormeuse à la Lumière d'une Chandelle, the mood is somewhat foreboding and the young man appears to be in thought.

Marie-Thérèse became pregnant around the time this print was made but scholars are not certain when she told Picasso. Some have surmised he may have recently learned the news when he etched this image, and the young man represents the artist’s initial contemplation of their expectant child. In support of this theory, the woman’s white abdomen and round breasts, placed at the center of the composition, define a strong focal point that seems to indicate this may be the subject behind Garçon pensif veillant une Dormeuse à la Lumière d'une Chandelle.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

Though based in Greek mythology, this image is more surreal than narrative. Picasso created this etching in late 1934, along with a number of similarly complex and dark compositions from the Suite Vollard, including plate 26 (Garçon pensif veillant une Dormeuse à la Lumière d'une Chandelle, Bloch 226), plate 27 (Faune dévoilant une Dormeuse, Bloch 230), and the “Blind Minotaur” images, plates 94 through 97 (Bloch 222, 223, 224 and 225). At right is a figure resembling a Sphinx or perhaps the Oracle of Delphi (a.k.a. the Pythia), perched on a column. To her left is a man with generalized Greek features, offering a glass of wine to the mythical creature. On the other side of the composition stand a masked man and woman. Noted Picasso scholar Brigitte Baer offers her own analysis of this image in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection (Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 92-3) in terms of Greek mythology interwoven with Picasso’s personal life and the issues that may have been preoccupying his thoughts at the time, but this is a mysterious and complex composition that offers multiple interpretations. Overall, it is dreamlike in manner that is similar to many images by Picasso’s Surrealist contemporaries; though he was not intimately connected with the movement, he was close with many of its leaders and incorporated some of their ideas into his work of the 1920s and ‘30s.

In terms of technique, this etching is a milestone in Picasso’s printmaking—one of handful of initial forays into the use of aquatint, which he would master with the assistance of master printer Roger Lacourière. To create the image he first painted the figures on the plate using varnish, which blocks the subsequent action of the acid on the plate, thus leaving these areas white. In order for a tone to print the plate must be evenly dusted with rosin powder that is baked onto the plate; this was done either before or after Picasso painted the varnish. The minute spots of adhered rosin also resist the acid, creating a cavernous and pocked surface that will later hold ink. Before etching, Picasso also went in with a needle and scratched out a few fine lines within the figures, thus exposing the metal to the plate. As noted by Baer in Picasso the Engraver: Selections from the Musée Picasso, Paris (The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 1997, 73) Picasso painted the acid on the plate in order to etch it rather than dipping it in a bath of acid. The result is a subtly mottled background instead of an even tone.

As discussed by the scholar Lisa Florman in Myth and Metamorphosis: Picasso’s Classical Prints of the 1930s (Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2000, 88-9), Picasso may have had Francisco Goya’s Los Caprichos of 1799 in mind when he began work on the Suite Vollard, which she argues is Picasso’s own contribution to the tradition of the capriccio. If so, this plate can be seen as a reference to plate 19 of Goya’s suite, Todos caerán (All will Fall), which has been interpreted as an admonition against lust for women and its potential pitfalls—a message that certainly would have rung true for Picasso at a time that he was grappling with the news that his young mistress was pregnant. The bird-woman at the upper right of Goya’s image closely resembles the mythical Sphinx figure that Picasso references here. Florman also notes that Picasso’s choice of aquatint indicates an homage to Goya as well, as the elder artist remained the undisputed master of the technique.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three on vellum). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

In this image, a young man drawn in simple contour line speaks with an older man depicted with a proliferation of overlapping marks. They are both in ancient Greek fisherman attire. The young man appears to be telling a story that is of deep interest to the elder. This is the first appearance of this youthful Greek mariner who features in several plates of the Suite Vollard, particularly the later plates that are categorized under the Blind Minotaur heading (Bloch 222 – Bloch 225). In these images, the man stands on the sidelines with a calm and pensive look on his face. Picasso scholar Brigitte Baer interprets this etching as an overt indication of Picasso’s narrative intent with the Suite Vollard, which she argues is the primary impulse behind Picasso’s printmaking practice as a whole.i This interpretation of the Suite Vollard seems to be supported by Francoise Gilot’s account of her first encounter with the prints in her memoire Life with Picasso, in which the discusses them in terms of a grand narrative taking place on the island of Crete, the mythical home of the Minotaur—a man/beast that also features prominently in later plates of the suite.ii

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i See Baer, Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 89 and Baer, Picasso the Engraver:
Selections from the Musée Picasso, Paris, Thames & Hudson, 1997, 11
ii Virago Press, 1990 [reprint of 1964 McGraw-Hill edition], 41-44).

Picasso has conflated several mythical figures in one in Harpye à Tête de Taureau, et Quatre Petites Filles sur une Tour surmontée d'un Drapeau noir: the Harpy, the Sphinx, and the Minotaur. This fearsome creature looms menacingly over the four innocent and defenseless children in the boat floating nearby. The young girl at the far right bears a clear resemblance to Marie-Thérèse Walter, Picasso’s mistress at the time. As noted by Picasso scholar Brigitte Baer, the young children all wear wreaths of flowers on their heads in keeping with the myth of the Minotaur; virginal youths were sacrificed to the creature and are said to have been adorned with such garlands in preparation for the ritual.i

This plate was created in December of 1934, around the time Picasso learned that Marie-Thérèse was pregnant, and shares the complex iconography and psychological drama of later plates in the suite that include imagery of the Minotaur. This creature begins to frequently appear in Picasso’s work around 1933 and quickly became an iconic aspect of the artist’s imagery. As pointed out by Deborah Wye, “the mythic Minotaur became Picasso’s alter ego…[and] gave him a vehicle for depicting sexuality and violence, and for expressing rage and guilt”.ii

Stylistically, the deftness of execution and complexity of this etching also show the influence of master printer Roger Lacourière, who had an enormous impact on Picasso’s development as a printmaker. Though the exact point at which their collaboration began is disputed, all agree that it was underway by 1934.

The current impression is from the edition of 260 printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso”. (There was also an edition of fifty with wide margins and a separate watermark, and a small edition of three.) It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 94.
ii A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from The Museum of Modern Art, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, 46.

In this image—one of Picasso’s most celebrated prints—a playful satyr lifts the sheets to peek at a sleeping beauty bathed in moonlight. At left is a balustrade that opens to a beautiful summer night. Near it stands a pot of basil. According to medieval Italian folklore, the herb’s heavenly fragrance had the power to transform an animal to a prince under the light of the full moon, and many young maidens placed it by their windows hoping for the arrival of their true love.

Picasso created Faune dévoilant une Dormeuse in June of 1936 after a hiatus of over a year from working on the Suite Vollard. This gap in his work was due to the intense turmoil of 1935, in which his marriage dissolved and his mistress became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter. Yet the pause seems to have served him well. Picasso’s skill as a printmaker grew by leaps and bounds in the mid-1930s and his mastery is evident in the sensitive handling of light and detail in this compelling and, now famous, image. Noted Picasso scholar Brigitte Baer describes it thus: “the more one studies it…the more mysterious and lyrical it becomes, claiming clear title to the label of ‘masterpiece.’”i

Early scholars such as Bolliger describe this print at face value (a faun unveiling a sleeping woman), but scholars have recently shown that it is likely Picasso’s rendition of the Greek myth of Jupiter (Zeus) and Antiope, in which the god disguises himself as a satyr and takes the beautiful nymph as she sleeps (she later bears twins). This story had been painted or etched by a number of important artists throughout history, including Annibale Carracci, Correggio, Rembrandt, Goltzius, Watteau, and Ingres. Amongst these, Rembrandt was a particularly important figure for Picasso—the greatest amongst the greats. As has been demonstrated by scholar Janie Cohn, this etching can be seen as Picasso’s unique interpretation of the Dutch artist’s prints on the same subject, one from 1631 and another from 1659. Picasso’s Antiope is in a similar position to the one used in the old master’s later print, but she is shown from a different angle. In Rembrandt’s earlier etching, the satyr is in the midst of climbing through the window and in the later print he is about to take the young maid. Picasso’s satyr is somewhere between the two points of action, almost filling in the gap. As Cohen notes, “in this case [Picasso’s] imagination was stimulated by the elements of time and movement suggested by [Rembrandt’s] two prints”.ii

Baer agrees with Cohen and goes a step further to discuss the subject of this print in terms of Picasso’s inner world at the time. It is among his last images of Marie-Thérèse Walter, who had been his mistress since 1927. When Picasso etched Faune dévoilant une Dormeuse, he had recently met the Surrealist photographer Dora Maar, who would become his next lover. In this context, Baer sees this etching as a farewell to his relationship with Walter. Like Jupiter (the mythological figure depicted), Picasso was overcome by desire for a beautiful young woman and altered himself in order to have her. Like the myth of Jupiter and Antiope, their liaison resulted in pregnancy. However, as Baer notes, the roguish Jupiter/satyr figure is a considerably more likable beast than the intimidating Minotaur alter-ego of Picasso’s earlier prints. This satyr seems to be relatively tame, indulging in a forbidden pleasure. This change in imagery corresponds to Picasso’s own desire toward his lover, which had become likewise more manageable and subdued and would soon be extinguished altogether.

In terms of technical achievement, this etching is among the most outstanding examples of sugar-lift aquatint. Though extremely challenging, mastery of sugar-lift allows great fluidity of expression, similar to brush and ink. To create a sugar-lift, the artist paints on the copper plate with sugar syrup, which is allowed to dry. The plate is then coated with varnish or hard-ground and placed in a water bath. The sugar solution underneath dissolves, leaving the painted areas exposed. The plate is then put through the process of aquatint: it is dusted with rosin particles that are baked to the surface, and then etched according to the desires of the artist; a full range of tones is possible. The process is quite delicate and easily thwarted at any stage. Picasso had honed his skill in sugar-lift in the previous two years under the tutelage of master printer Roger Lacourière, who was known for his advanced knowledge of the subject. Lacourière’s father had been a renowned practitioner in the technique (some have attributed invention of the method to the elder Lacourière, but this is not the case) and passed his skill to his son. Baer has identified a 1934 etching titled Femme nue assise et trois têtes barbues (Bloch 216) as Picasso’s first use of sugar-lift. He then perfected his technique in early 1936 (just prior to etching the present plate) in a whimsical suite of thirty-one animal images titled Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon.

In Faune dévoilant une Dormeuse, Picasso used sugar-lift aquatint to create the subtle areas of shadow that surround the figures and set the nocturnal mood. As discussed by Baer, the plate went through six states in order to achieve the various shades of gray seen here—the artist was not satisfied until he had captured the distinctive light that is cast by a full moon, an astounding achievement that is quite difficult to obtain in the medium of printmaking.iii She notes that he was likely motivated by the example of Rembrandt’s legendary blacks, which he famously envied. It is also likely that Picasso had Goya’s Los Caprichos suite of 1799 in mind as he strove to obtain this elusive effect. Los Caprichos established Goya as a master of sugar-lift aquatint and his skill had not been matched since. Picasso was a highly competitive artist—not only with his contemporaries but also his predecessors—and such art-historical challenges often fueled his work.

The current impression is one of fifty deluxe impressions of the sixth (final) state with large margins printed on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval,” outside of the edition of 260 (there was also a small edition of three). It was printed by Roger Lacourière in late 1938 or early 1939. The untimely death of Ambroise Vollard in the summer of 1939 delayed their commerce until 1948 when the prints were acquired by dealer Henri Petiet through the Vollard estate.

i Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, 98).
ii “Picasso’s Dialogue with Rembrandt’s Art” in Etched on the Memory: The Presence of Rembrandt in the Prints of Goya and Picasso. V+K Pub./
Inmerc.: Blaricum, The Netherlands, 2000, 89.
iii Baer, 98.