Picasso and the Divine Feminine

I wasn't going to go.
I don't even like him, I said to myself.
He was a misogynist.
I don't get most of his art.
My mind was made up. I wasn't going to go.

But then something changed my mind. Maybe it was the way my friend described the exhibit. And maybe it was -- the eyes.

With Picasso's personal collection of his work currently on display at the Seattle Art Museum (on loan from the Musee National Picasso in Paris), this photo of him staring out the window is being used as part of the publicity campaign. The first time I saw it, I felt like his eyes locked onto mine. I couldn't look away. And when I did, I knew I had to buy a ticket and go see the exhibit. Even though I had been SO sure I wasn't going to go.

I'm obviously not the first woman to be caught up in Picasso's spell. Almost as well known and studied as his accomplishments as an artist, his relationships with women have been the subject of much speculation and analysis. I will admit that the main reason for me to go to the exhibit was to see how his art was fueled by the power of those relationships.

Years ago, I read a book on sacred sexuality called "Intimate Communion," by David Deida. It forever changed the way I look at the dance between masculine and feminine energies. Deida's explanation of polarity sheds light on the mystery of relationships, regardless of whether they are heterosexual or same-sex. Polarity is not about "true love," it is about energetic attraction. Like a magnet, feminine energy is one pole; masculine, the other. The more energy is animated at one extreme, the greater the attraction to its opposite. From this perspective, Picasso and his women are fascinating studies.

Picasso is an example of masculine energy at the extreme. Focused, aggressive, ambitious, sexual, confident, analytical, on purpose, a master of many crafts (painting, sculpture, ceramics), extraordinarily productive -- and cruel.

Look at the photo of Picasso on the jacket of John Richardson's biography of the artist. There's a bit of a smile, more than a hint of charm. The eyes are piercing, taking in every detail, yet cold, detached. He is a man who knows what he wants, which is attractive to anyone with a lot of feminine energy (regardless of gender). But he is that "bad boy" our mamas warned us about. He can and will break our hearts.

And his women? They embodied feminine qualities of beauty, artistry, sensuality and emotionality, at times in the extreme. His first wife, Olga, was a beautiful ballerina with the Ballet Russes. It is said that Picasso fell in love with her the first time he saw her dance. She kept the magic going by refusing to sleep with him unless or until they married. This was a new experience for him - women didn't say "no" to Pablo (see explanation above). Nothing rouses masculine energy like a challenge, but try as he might, she stuck to her refusal.  They married a little over a year later. (Not that he was celibate during that time.) They were very happy in the beginning and his drawings and paintings of her, elegant and representational as they are, seem to honor her formal, traditional taste, even as he was experimenting with new ideas in painting.

After the birth of their son, Paulo, the relationship began to fall apart. One gets the sense that she was fragile emotionally and physically - qualities of the extreme feminine - and that her love of high living wore thin with Picasso's bohemian, workaholic nature. His paintings of her began to take on a more distorted edge.

Banner outside the Seattle Art Museum featuring a detail from one of Picasso's paintings of Marie-Therese Walter called "Reading."

About that time, Picasso met the woman who would be the next great love of his life, 17-year-old Marie-Therese Walter. Perhaps because of her age and most certainly because of his marriage, his early paintings of her were abstract so as not to give away their secret affair. His famous "Still Life on a Pedestal Table," on view now at SAM, is one of those. How much of his abstract work during those years was inspired by this need for secrecy? Without this catalyst, would he have explored abstract painting to the degree that he did? Over time, her face and body begin to emerge in his work - blonde, blue-eyed, lush, sensual, beautiful. Quintessential feminine.

This banner shows a detail from Picasso's  1937 "Portrait of Dora Maar."

However happy Picasso may have been with Marie-Therese, he was not cut out to be a one-woman man. In 1936, he began an affair with Dora Maar, a beautiful, talented photographer and painter. Sensitive and high-strung, she was deeply affected by Picasso's moodiness. Whatever sparkle their relationship may have had in the beginning quickly shifted to tears. In Picasso's art, she went from being the beautiful woman you see in the banner above to the famous, "Weeping Woman." 

In fact, Picasso did a series of Dora as the weeping woman as if depicting an archetype.  He said, "Dora, for me, was always a weeping woman....And it's important, because women are suffering machines." He seems never to have had empathy for his partners. 

Just as today's chefs engage in molecular gastronomy, taking apart the ingredients and cooking processes that create a meal, examining each one and reassembling it, a century ago, Picasso was doing a similar thing with his painting. The Dora Maar images, as well as many of his others, have the sense of having been taken apart, with the facial features, body parts and emotions separated and examined, then reassembled on the canvas. 

Picasso's detachment from his own feminine side allows him to observe Dora's pain without feeling it. It is as if he was a disinterested reporter filing a story from a crime scene. He needs Dora's extreme feminine emotionality in order to be anything more than a clever technician. Her drama provides the story. Without it, what shall he paint?  

In fact, without his women, I wonder how we would think of Picasso today. There's no question that he would be highly regarded. But without the ability to marry great technical expertise (masculine) with profound emotional depth (feminine), I'm not sure brilliance can be achieved. Picasso's incredible facility with technique of all sorts is not in doubt. But his emotional range appears to have been rather narrow, alternating between periods of tranquility and frequent bouts of rage and self-pity. To bring the full range of human feeling in all its nuance, color, vibrancy, joy and pain, into his painting, sculpture and pottery, he had to borrow the energy from his women. 

At the age of 61, Picasso left Dora for Francoise Gilot, a 20 year-old. Long a well-established painter, he was a mentor for the intelligent, gifted Francoise. Of all his partners, she had the emotional balance to hold her own through his mercurial moods. A talented painter in her own right, she was a keen observer of his creative process and her book, "Life with Picasso" offers great insight into his life and work.

After 10 years with Picasso, tired of his tantrums and other women, Francoise left him. She told him she was going to leave. He reportedly shouted, "No one leaves Picasso." But she did. 

After I saw the Picasso exhibit, I read her book. I can understand a woman being attracted to a man like Picasso, but why would any woman, especially one 40 years younger, choose to live with him? And have two children with him? I found her story thoughtful and fascinating, just as she is.

After Francoise, there were other women and then Jacqueline, his second wife. He continued to be a prolific artist, but his finest work was, for the most part, behind him. However, one particularly profound painting from this time is entitled, "The Kiss." Painted the day before his 88th birthday, it is a self-portrait of Pablo with Jacqueline. There is a look of anguish on both faces. After a lifetime of tumultuous relationships with women, Picasso was, at that point, impotent. 

There are 150 pieces in the remarkable exhibit at Seattle Art Museum, and it is well worth your time to see them. But time is running out. The show closes on Monday, January 17. Save money and time and get your tickets online.

If you are not able to visit this exhibit and want to know more about the artist's life and work, check out the DVD, "Picasso: Magic, Sex, Death,"which is available from Amazon or you can rent it from Netflix. John Richardson, author of a three-volume biography of Picasso and long time friend of the artist, narrates.

Great Figgy Pudding Street Corner Caroling Contest

Last night was the 24th Annual "Figgy Friday" caroling competition held on streets and street corners in downtown Seattle. This event is a fun and festive holiday tradition. It is also a significant fund raiser for the Pike Market Senior Center and the Downtown Food Bank.

I was there, on the corner of 5th and Pine, singing with a group that is now the Olio Glee Club. Because I was performing, I couldn't walk around and take photos, so I asked my friend, Gordon Hjelm, if he would take my camera and get a few shots. He did a wonderful job and all the images you see in this post (except the Macy's star at left) are his. Thank you, Gordon!

We had a total of 35 caroling teams competing along four blocks of Pine St. from 3rd to 7th Avenues. The area was closed to motor traffic during the competition so people could stroll along the street and see the various teams perform. The weather was good - no rain or snow - and everyone, performers and audience alike, seemed to be having a good time.

A panel of 14 judges selected the winners in the Best Choral Team and Most Creative Team categories. Members of the audience got to weigh in, too, and vote for their favorites for the People's Choice award. There were also "Figlanthropy" awards for the teams that raised the most money.

Money was raised in various ways. Some singers made personal donations. Some of us found sponsors. At least a half dozen companies sponsored the event. And there were "busker" boxes next to each team during the event where people could drop donations. 

I went the sponsorship route and want to say a big THANK YOU to my friends who made donations. Altogether, those checks added up to $170. Outstanding! And much appreciated.

The big winners in the Figlanthropy category, were the Starbucks Coffee Carolers (shown above). Between donations collected by barristas in coffee stores around the area and Starbucks matching dollars, they raised over $31,000! Second place winners were the Phinney Neighborhood Community Chorus. In third place, the Hoppy Holiday, Merry Malty Beer Carolers.

Here's the Malty Beer Carolers, from Pike Place Brewing Company, entertaining the crowd. They also came in second in the People's Choice category. The People's Choice winners were The Beaconettes, whom I wrote about earlier in my Glee! post. In that post, you'll also find a YouTube clip from one of The Beaconettes' past performances.

Here's my team.

And here is where I get to find out that having your picture taken when you are singing is almost as bad as having it taken when you are eating. (That's me, second from right.)

So what did the judges think of all this? The winner for Best Choral Team was Mount Vernon High School. Second place went to Bellevue Christian School. The winners of the award for Most Creative Team went to the Carol Brunettes (shown above). Second place went to the Phinney Neighborhood Community Chorus.

I leave you with this view from Westlake Plaza, at 4th and Pine, across from the Figgy stage. It is a magical scene with the Macy's star shining and children (of all ages) riding the Christmas Carousel.

We had a lot of fun last night and, in the process, helped a lot of people in need - a winning combination all around. Want to join the fun? Plan on coming out next year for the 25th Annual Great Figgy Pudding Street Corner Caroling Competition.

Listening to the Train

A few weeks ago, I went down to Portland, Oregon, to visit friends. Portland is about 175 miles from Seattle and, by car, the trip takes roughly three hours, traffic permitting. Which is to say that it is better to plan on four hours each way. Traffic along Interstate 5 between the two cities has become steadily more congested and, over time, making the trip by car has lost its charm for me. These days, I take the train.

The trip on Amtrak takes 3-1/2 hours from Seattle to Portland, with 5 or 6 stops along the way. I can read a book, watch a movie, walk around, get lunch or take a nap. But on this particular day, I amused myself, as you will see, by taking pictures out the window of freight trains as they passed alongside us.

Freight trains move more freight across the US (42%) than any other form of transport. In terms of ton-miles, trucks come in a distant second (28%). Trains are everywhere, it seems, their tracks crisscrossing the nation, connecting cities and rumbling across the wide open spaces between rural communities.

But most of the time, I don't much notice trains. I hear them, of course, and see them in my peripheral vision as I am driving to and from downtown Seattle on Highway 99. But mostly, trains run in the background of my life. So on this particular day, I was was surprised to find that sitting in a window seat on a train, photographing other trains, was a thoroughly engaging and thoughtful way to pass the time.

Visually, trains have a lot to offer. Different sizes, colors. Forms that follow function, like the tanker below.

When I pay attention, trains bring back memories. As I looked out the window, "ridin' the train," the Grateful Dead's rendition of Casey Jones easily came to mind. As did Arlo Guthrie's voice, singing the chorus of "City of New Orleans."

Freight trains remind me of childhood. I grew up in San Francisco's East Bay Area in a town then called Irvington (which later became Fremont). Our house was in the middle of the block. At the end of the block was a pickle factory and, running perpendicular to our street, the railroad tracks. Even now, 50 years later, I have a clear memory of laying awake on hot summer nights, the windows open to catch any bit of breeze. The air was heavy with the sour smell from the pickle vats. (I wonder now what kind they were. Dill?) And the only sounds were the clatter of passing trains and the groan of train cars being rearranged.

In those days, homeless men, hobos we called them, would sneak onto empty train cars and ride the rails from one town to another. When they got off the train, they would go door to door, offering to do chores in exchange for something to eat. Since our house was just a half block from the tracks, we got to see these fellows on a fairly regular basis. Looking back, it is surprising to me that my mother, one of the least trusting people I've ever known, used to actually "hire" some of these guys. She'd occasionally give a man some outdoor job to do and then set about making sandwiches and coffee while he worked. She would never let me go outside while he was there. She would never let him come inside the house. After he finished his work, she would put his food outside and instruct him to knock on the door and hand her the empty dishes when he finished. 

But of all my memories involving trains, the most indelible is one from a time in my 20s when my sons were little boys. At that time, we were living in southern Illinois near St. Louis, and I had to cross at least one set of train tracks to get anyplace I needed to go. In those days I was usually in a hurry, trying to cram as much as possible into my day. Having to wait for a train (or anything) did not set well with me.

One particular day I was driving with my sons: Brett, who was around 4, and Mike, two years younger. I was running late for something or other and, of course, we got caught by a train. I sat there fuming and ranting about stupid trains, and and why is this thing so long, and why can't they run them at night so they don't screw up people's lives during the day, and... honestly, I don't know what all I was going on about. After a few minutes, I heard Brett's clear little voice.

"Mommy, why are you so mad?" he asked. "Mike and I like the train. We like the way it sounds. Roll down your window so we can listen to it."

I sat there embarrassed, realizing that the adult in the car was not the person behind the wheel. My son was right. What was the point in getting upset? Being upset wasn't going to make the train go faster or keep me from being late. I was going to have to wait, pure and simple. It was up to me to decide how I wanted to spend that time; and there was at least one other choice besides being angry and miserable.

So I rolled my window down. And the three of us sat there, in silence, listening to the train. And in spite of myself, I enjoyed it. 

My wise 4-year-old boy is now a 40-year-old man. But I remember his words from that day every time I am stopped by a train. And unless it is raining sideways, as it sometimes does in the Northwest, I push the little button inside my car that lowers the window, and I listen.

A Different Perspective

Welcome to my neighborhood, Alki Beach, located at the north end of West Seattle. It is a wonderful place to live, just minutes from downtown Seattle, yet offering the relaxed atmosphere of a beach community. Nearly every day, weather permitting, I walk along the beach and enjoy the ever changing views of sky, water, islands and mountains. Sunny, stormy, placid, moody, always dramatic - I never get tired of the remarkable scenery here.

This is the view from here: the bike path and walking trail in the foreground; the waters of Puget Sound just past the beach; beyond that you see Bainbridge Island; and above it all, the snow-capped Olympic Mountains. If you look closely, you can see a white Washington state ferry in the distance, making the crossing between Bainbridge and downtown Seattle.

I watch these ferries go by every day and pretty much take them for granted. I realized the other day that it had been years since I'd been on one. I decided it was high time to take a little day trip and get a different view of my neighborhood and city - a view from the water.

On Tuesday, I left my house around noon, headed for Coleman Dock in downtown Seattle, hoping to catch the 1:10 boat to Bainbridge. I was surprised and delighted to find that on a sunny, August day, during the height of tourist season, there were short lines at the terminal. I bought my ticket, took my place in the loading area and within a few minutes I was on board and underway.

This ferry, the Tacoma, is one of the largest in the Washington state ferry fleet. It can carry up to 2500 passengers and 200 vehicles. It dwarfs everything else on the water, except for the jumbo cruise ships that operate in summer, carrying passengers to Alaska. It takes about 30 minutes to make the crossing to Bainbridge, which leaves plenty of time to get out of the car and go upstairs to the observation decks for a look around.

There's no better way to view the waterfront than from, well, the waterfront. Here's part of that sweeping view, looking north. You can see the Space Needle in the distance.

Looking even further north, on a very clear day like this, you can see Mt. Baker. This mountain which is part of the Cascade range, is located near the Canadian border.

Arriving at Bainbridge Island, the ferry docks in the little town of Winslow. I got off and headed into the picturesque downtown area to look around and get some lunch.

[Afterward, I stopped at Eagle Harbor Books and bought a copy of their paperback, "From Bad to Verse: Celebrating Three Years of Bainbridge Island Limericks." This book is a compilation of limericks that have been winners in an annual contest sponsored by the bookstore. Being a lover of limericks myself, I had to have a copy. And after sharing the story of my 50th birthday limerick party with members of the bookstore staff, I was encouraged to enter next year's contest. Woohoo! What fun.]

From there, it was back to the car to go check out the views from the southern tip of the island. I have been to the north end many times, mostly to visit Bloedel Reserve, an extraordinary public garden. But this time, I wanted to see my neighborhood from the point of view of being across the water from my daily walks. I left Winslow, and having forgotten to bring a map, I figured I'd just turn left (south) and somehow find my way. And so I did, winding through miles of woods, acres of green, cool and soothing on a hot day. When I came, literally, to the end of the road, I found what I came for -- the view was stunning!

To the left, I could see the low outline of West Seattle. To the right, Blake Island. And straight ahead, in all her glory, magnificent Mt. Rainier. On a different day, I would expect to see West Seattle and Blake Island, but the mountain is elusive. We can go days, often weeks, without a view of it because of weather conditions. Although I've seen Rainier hundreds of times, it is surprisingly easy to forget how big, and how majestic, it is. So when, as we say around here, "the mountain is out," we locals can be just as awestruck as people seeing it for the first time. I stood for a while, taking it all in, feeling like one of the luckiest people on the planet: grateful for the day, for the view, for being in the Northwest and for having the opportunity to hop on a ferry and have this experience. At last, my eyes were full and it was time to head back to the ferry for the trip home.

I arrived at the terminal around 4:30 and again had just a short wait to board. As we are approaching autumn, the days are shorter and the light in late afternoon makes for good photography, so once we were underway, I went up top for more views and photo opportunities.

In a few minutes, we were alongside my Alki Beach neighborhood, the very top of Mt. Rainier visible above the bluff. Nearly every day, from somewhere along that stretch of beach, I look out and see a ferry. On this day, I'm riding a ferry, looking back the other way.

Moments later, we were back in downtown Seattle. Passengers disembarked and we all went our separate ways. As I drove along the beach on my way home, I looked back across the water at the island I'd just left. My splendid, unhurried little getaway had only taken a few hours. But it gave me a fresh perspective on the geography surrounding my neighborhood. As a bonus, I am sure I will never forget the view from the southern tip of Bainbridge Island.

Related post:

An R-Rated Botanical Limerick

A Few Favorite Plants

Spring in the Seattle area is a feast for the eyes. So many plants in bloom! And when one wave of blossoms fades, another begins. We've had over two months of color to enjoy so far this year and we still have the month of May to look forward to. Here are photos of a few of my many favorites at this time of year.

Akebia quinata is an exquisite vine that blooms in early spring. The flowers have a faint clove scent, which is easy to miss because the spring breezes tend to dilute the fragrance. This vine is light and doesn't need much structural support. I grow mine on a rose tower near my front door.

This shrub with its distinctive blue-purple flowers, a rare color in the landscape, is Ceanothus. Its common name is California wild lilac, because most species are native to that state. Only a few cultivars of this plant are hardy enough to survive winters in Seattle. I'm fairly sure this one is C. impressus, which is doing quite well in the park looking across Elliott Bay toward the Space Needle.

Hellebores add elegance to the garden from winter into spring. This one, the Corsican hellebore (C. argutifolius), blooms early spring. It holds its bloom a long time, unfazed by the pelting rains and strong winds we get with spring storms. I have one planted outside my living room window where I can enjoy it every time I look out.

Solomons Seal (Polygonatum odoratum) is an herbaceous perennial, meaning that it dies down in fall. After I've cut away the faded stems in fall, I forget there was ever a plant there. So when it rises up from the ground in early April, its arching stems going from zero to three feet in a matter of a few days, it always seems like a miracle to me.

And here are the flowers on one of our native trees, the vine maple (Acer circinatum). These flowers are  small and most people don't notice them, but they are lovely to observe opening up just as the leaves begin to emerge.

Now it's your turn. What are your favorites in spring?

A Walk in the Park

A friend and I went for a " tree walk" yesterday morning at the Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle. We walked the length of Azalea Way, which, within a few weeks, will feature wave after wave of azaleas and rhododendrons in bloom. Right now, however, the cherries and magnolias are putting on the show.

It was cloudy yesterday, but the pale blossoms of this weeping cherry brightened up the landscape.

This stunning magnolia stopped us in our tracks.

Spotting this patch of skunk cabbage was a surprise. The best part of the surprise was that there was no odor! At first, I wasn't sure it was really skunk cabbage. I can usually smell this plant a long time before I see it.

Cloudiness seems to heighten the contrast between light and shadow, making the canopy of this cherry tree appear to float.

Here's another ghostly tree.

I was at the adjacent Japanese Garden a week ago and noticed that the cherry trees had not yet bloomed. The buds were still pretty tight. I expect them to be showing color in the next week or so, if the weather remains mild.

In the meantime, if you are in the Seattle area, there's lots to enjoy at the Arboretum, and a big show to look forward to on Azalea Way when the rhodies bloom.