Nancy and I are just returned from seeing the new Picasso: Guitars 1912–1914
exhibition at MoMA—and it is a fabulous
show! It includes 70 incredible works
Picasso did in 
various media—collage, construction, drawing,
mixed-media painting, and photography—during the crucial period of
1912-1914. In 1912, Picasso and Georges Braque had together
begun experimenting with gluing pieces of paper onto their drawings, developing
a technique they termed “papier collé”;
and Braque had also been experimenting with incorporating elements like sand,
wood, and string into his Cubist paintings.
Picasso:
Guitars 1912–1914 follows the incredible journey of discovery and
creativity these developments engendered in Picasso. The works included
in the show, all of which involve guitars (or, sometimes, violins), are
bookended by two amazing sculptures Picasso did of a guitar, both given to MoMA
by Picasso some four decades ago.
The first fragile construction (paperboard, paper, string, and
painted wire installed with cut cardboard box, 30 x 20 1/2 x 7 ¾; at right), done between October and
December 1912, created
quite an uproar in the art world. As MoMA’s exhibition write-up asserts, “Picasso’s silent instrument resembled no sculpture ever
seen before.” (It may be
apocryphal, but the story goes that when an image of it appeared in a French
art journal, a large number of the readers cancelled their subscriptions in
outraged protest.) 
Although
rich, powerful, and intensely evocative, it is quintessentially temporal and
almost ephemeral in the transience of its materials. (We were told that it spent the better part
of its existence after 1916 in a department store carton in the artist’s
studio; when it arrived at MoMA, it consisted of six separate pieces; and it
was only recently, when, in response to a 2005 query from art historian
Christine Poggi—who had looked at a photograph of the
piece as it had been assembled in Picasso’s studio—that Karl Buchberg, the museum’s senior paper conservator realized
that there was a portion of a cardboard box that was supposed to be positioned under it as a table [and in an unbelievable story of museum
conservatorship, found that MoMA actually had preserved that piece of cardboard
all these years, without ever having realized that it belonged to the
sculpture!], and reunited it with the rest of the piece.) Because of its apparently insubstantial,
paper construction, it had been viewed as merely a maquette
for the later version, and was not originally shown as a work of art in its own
right.
The second (metal and wire, 30 1/2 x 13 3/4 x 7 5/8; at the left), done in 1914, was far more durably done in sheet metal. It was cut directly on the pattern of the 1912 paper one. (Scott Gerson, the MoMA conservator most immediately involved in the creation of this exhibition, did exacting measurements of both pieces, and he concluded that the second was definitely directly copied from the first—although he research suggested that Picasso had not used the pieces of the first directly as a template, but probably had made an intermediate tracing of the first that was used as the template for cutting the second.) It is a darker, more solid, somewhat more ominous piece (perhaps reflecting the approaching shadow of World War I?). But it was equally astounding and disturbing to viewers. According to MoMA:
Early visitors to Picasso's studio were bewildered by this work: "What is that?" they asked, according to the poet André Salmon: "Does that rest on a pedestal? Does that hang on the wall? Is it a painting or sculpture?" Apparently, Picasso responded, "It's nothing, it's 'la guitare!'"
Picasso: Guitars 1912–1914, organized by Anne Umland,
Curator, and Blair Hartzell,
Curatorial Assistant, in MoMA’s Department of Painting
and
Sculpture, is a marvelously rich reflection of the wonderful diversity, soulful
beauty, and profound creativity of Picasso’s work during this pivotal moment in
his development. There are many fabulous
works from MoMA’s magnificent permanent collection,
like his charcoal on paper drawing, “Guitar,” of 1912 (18 1/2 x 24 3/8; at
left), or his “Guitar” of 1913 (cut-and-pasted paper and printed paper,
charcoal, ink, and chalk on colored paper on board, 26 1/8 x 19 ½; at right). There are also some most unusual photographs
taken by Picasso, often of assemblages he created in his studio—often using as
components some of the sculptures he did in this period, often in combination
with other found objects.
There
are many works on loan from other museums, including great works from the
Pompidou Centre and the Musée ![Guitare, bec à gaz, flacon [Guitar, Gas-jet and Bottle]](PicassoGuitars_files/image010.jpg)
Picasso
in 
stencil
of some kind—as well as a rich combination of perspectival
manipulation, different levels of abstraction, and varied forms of pictorial
representation. The show also includes a
great work from the Kunstmuseum in
Nancy and I were incredibly fortunate to have been invited this evening to a Conservation Committee tour of this fabulous exhibition. It was lead by Anne Umland and Blair Hartzell, who together curated Picasso: Guitars 1912–1914, and by Jim Coddington, Chief Conservator of MoMA, and Scott Gerson, the person in MoMA’s Conservation Department who was most centrally involved in putting the exhibition together. We were treated to an hour and a half of and absolutely riveting talk and cross-discussion by these four incredible experts as they showed us around the exhibition—discussing the works from technical and conservatorial directions, as well as from the art historic. It was a rare and treasured experience.
Picasso: Guitars 1912–1914 opens to the public this weekend on 13 February Sunday, and it runs through 6 June.
I cannot recommend strongly enough that you rush to see it.
Picasso: Guitars 1912–1914
February 13–June 6, 2011
11 West 53
Street New York, NY 10019
Third Floor
Meanwhile, on 20
January, Carol Vogel had an article in the New York Times describing this
exhibition: “Riffing on the Guitar as Only
Picasso Could,” which can be found online at www.nytimes.com/2011/01/21/arts/design/21vogel.html