Bodies of Tow and Paraffin
From Firenze University Press Book: Les Demoiselles d’Avignon and Modernism
Maite Méndez Baiges, University of Malaga
The Alarm Spreads
The first reactions to the Demoiselles d’Avignon came from members of Picasso’s intimate circle of friends and acquaintances, those who had admittance to the painter’s studios since, as we have mentioned, the work did not leave the painter’s succession of studio homes until 1916 when it was exhibited to the public in the Salon d’Antin. In fact, it was only in 1924 that the work was moved to the home of its first purchaser, the fashion designer and art collector, Jacques Doucet until it became the property of his wife until September of 1937 when it was acquired by the firm of Jacques Seligmann & Co of New York who sold it to the New York Museum of Modern Art where it can still be seen. From what we have been able to establish from anecdotes and various testimonies — almost never direct, almost always through intermediaries1 — , the reaction from this circle of Picasso’s acquaintances was more one of alarm and incomprehension, despite the majority of its members being accustomed to the scandals of the avant-garde. The general response of painters as advanced as Georges Braque or André Derain, as well as members of the public who might have seen it at the time, including writers, critics or collectors, seems to have been a mixture of scandal, disgust, apprehension, horror, derision and even affront or outrage. No-one appeared to understand what the painting was about, what it meant or how it had come about. It was as though Picasso had remained alone with his extraordinary creature, as suggested by Christopher Green. It is surprising to find that this was a type of reaction very similar to that shown by the art critics of the time, whose chronicles on modern art exhibitions published in the general press fell somewhere between scandalised and sarcastic. For example, one of those critics made the following comment when the work was shown for the first time in public in the Salon d’Antin in 1916:
The Cubists are not waiting for the war to end to recommence hostilities against good sense. They are exhibiting at the Galerie Poiret naked women, whose scattered parts are represented in all four corners of the canvas: here an eye, there an ear, over there a hand, a foot on top, a mouth below. Monsieur Picasso, their leader, is possibly the least dishevelled of the lot. He has painted, or rather daubed, five women who are, if the truth be told, all hacked up, and yet their limbs somehow manage to hold together. They have moreover piggish faces with eyes wandering negligently above their ears (Bohm-Duchen 2001, 202).
We have before us a work that apparently was disturbing, bizarre and excessive even for the practitioners of the “excesses” of modern painting. Among the declarations which have become legendary are those of Georges Braque or André Derain. Braque, who would soon, together with Picasso, become the inventor of Cubism, supposedly said that the painting had the same effect on him as “eating tow and swallowing paraffin.” Generally this quotation is completed with the expression “to spit fire.” Many commentaries have been made on such an original exclamation. Some, like Ángel González (2000, 321–30), in a text entitled precisely “Beber petróleo para escupir fuego” have understood it to mean that for Braque, Les Demoiselles were a sort of Molotov cocktail, resembling those the anarchists were making for their attacks at that time. Whatever the meaning may be, it is anything but reassuring. On the other hand, Derain who would, it must be remembered, be pursuing a type of painting that would lead to nothing short of Cubism, also left an unforgettable testimony: Les Demoiselles would be the rope with which Picasso would end up hanging himself (Kahnweiler 1916, 214); a comment certainly as disturbing as that of Braque.
DOI: 10.36253/978–88–5518–656–8.03
Read Full Text: https://books.fupress.it/chapter/bodies-of-tow-and-paraffin/13052
