Written on Tuesday, February 16, 2010 at 11:46am
Been reading the Faith & Culture devotional on and off since Christmas (recommend it!) Yesterday the author was talking about Picasso- the guy's personal life was a wreck! He was not only a master of painting, he was a master of the affair. His personal life was a collage of all the pieces of lives broke from decisions he made. I've never taken the time to read about him as his work does little for me. That may be considered blasphemy to all you art lovers but art is in the eye of the beholder and mine says, "Yuck!"
Anyway, what struck me about the piece was the blurb in which Picasso summarized himself as an artist and person. He said, "I have satisfied the masters and critics with all the changing oddities which have passed through my head, and the less they understood me, the more they admired me. By amusing myself with all these games, with all these absurdities . . . I became famous and that very quickly. And fame means sales, gains, fortunes, and riches . . . But when I am alone with myself, I have not the courage to think of myself as an artist in the great and ancient sense of the term. . . I am only a public entertainer who has understood his times and exploited them the best he could . . . Mine is a bitter confession, more painful than it may appear, but it has the merit of being sincere.
Isn't it amazing that Picasso didn't feel as if he even qualified as an artist? He knew the crown he wore was little more than ashes and dust. Why? Because who he was and what he was creating lacked sincerity. It didn't matter that he received accolades from the masses. Even if no one recognized it; he did. And so it is, that nothing else matters in that moment when you look in the mirror and know full well who you really are, what you're really capable of and what you've done with that. "That" doesn't have to be great things; quite the contrary. To be exceptional doesn't equate to doing and being on a grand scale. That is a cultural illusion. But what it does entail is that you live above and outside yourself each day.
As my t shirt often reminds me . . . walk in love. See the inherent God-given value in others and act accordingly with sincerity. The rest in life is details.
Anyway, what struck me about the piece was the blurb in which Picasso summarized himself as an artist and person. He said, "I have satisfied the masters and critics with all the changing oddities which have passed through my head, and the less they understood me, the more they admired me. By amusing myself with all these games, with all these absurdities . . . I became famous and that very quickly. And fame means sales, gains, fortunes, and riches . . . But when I am alone with myself, I have not the courage to think of myself as an artist in the great and ancient sense of the term. . . I am only a public entertainer who has understood his times and exploited them the best he could . . . Mine is a bitter confession, more painful than it may appear, but it has the merit of being sincere.
Isn't it amazing that Picasso didn't feel as if he even qualified as an artist? He knew the crown he wore was little more than ashes and dust. Why? Because who he was and what he was creating lacked sincerity. It didn't matter that he received accolades from the masses. Even if no one recognized it; he did. And so it is, that nothing else matters in that moment when you look in the mirror and know full well who you really are, what you're really capable of and what you've done with that. "That" doesn't have to be great things; quite the contrary. To be exceptional doesn't equate to doing and being on a grand scale. That is a cultural illusion. But what it does entail is that you live above and outside yourself each day.
As my t shirt often reminds me . . . walk in love. See the inherent God-given value in others and act accordingly with sincerity. The rest in life is details.
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