S4, E2: Following Picasso's Journey

In the second episode of Travel Tales by Dinogo, season four, Mae Hamilton, an associate editor at Dinogo, ventures to Europe to delve into the life—and legacy—of Picasso.

Transcript

Aislyn Greene, host: Welcome to Travel Tales by Dinogo. In each episode, we hear from travelers whose journeys transformed them. This season, I'm also chatting with each storyteller about the profound questions that travel raises. Just a note: I'm recording all of this from my houseboat in Sausalito, so I'm not physically with them, but you get the idea.

Today, we embark on a journey with an artistic icon—or rather, the spirit of one. Mae Hamilton, our guide, is an associate editor here at Dinogo, where she oversees our coverage of art and culture. It’s no surprise that she has a passion for art. Recently, she explored the footsteps of Picasso, traveling across Europe to visit significant locations in his life. She began her journey in Málaga, Spain, and concluded it in Nice, France. For her, this experience was enlightening, educational, and, as you’ll soon discover, a bit paradoxical.

Hello, Mae! Welcome to Travel Tales. How have you been?

Mae Hamilton, associate editor: I'm great, Aislyn. How about yourself?

Aislyn: I can't complain at all, especially since we're about to dive into a conversation about art, travel, and you.

Mae: I'm really looking forward to it!

Aislyn: Great! Listeners will soon find out that you recently embarked on an incredible art-centered journey. What inspired you to take this trip?

Mae: That's a great question! It was a truly unique opportunity to explore the places that were significant to the artist, Picasso. In today's globalized world, we often overlook how much a sense of place influences an artist's creations. For instance, Joan Didion feels inherently tied to California, while listening to the Ramones in New York evokes a completely different atmosphere. DJ Screw resonates with Houston. After experiencing Picasso's art in various locations, mostly around the Mediterranean, I realized just how much culture and place shaped his work.

Picasso is primarily recognized for his contributions to cubism, but he also created many simple sketches and drawings. There's a spacious quality in his minimalist pieces that reminds me of the relaxed Mediterranean vibe, you know?

Aislyn: That’s awesome! You mentioned his sketches from the Mediterranean. Were there other scenes or pieces that really stood out to you?

Mae: I touch on this more in the actual episode, but the theme that struck me the most was Picasso’s bulls. I had never visited Spain before this trip, so I was surprised by the prominence of bullfighting in the culture.

It’s less popular nowadays; the younger generation seems to be moving away from it. But traditionally, attending a bullfight was a common outing. Picasso had a unique ability to perceive beyond the violence, capturing the dramatic narrative—after all, the bull always faces its end, and the matador creates a grand spectacle. It’s a captivating dance of death, really.

I also had the chance to explore many Roman ruins scattered throughout these locations. As Americans, it's fascinating to return to the motherland and see how cities are literally built on top of one another. Picasso was very much aware of this layered history, too.

He took the theme of the bull and wove it into Greek and Roman mythology, representing himself not merely as a bull but as the minotaur—a creature that is half man, half bull. I’ll elaborate on this further, but I think it was a very apt symbol for him to embrace.

Aislyn: I'm curious about your passion for art, which has been a part of your life since childhood, as listeners will hear. Why is art so significant to you, and why should travelers consider dedicating more time to it while on the road?

Mae: The importance of travel really depends on your intentions—whether you're seeking personal reflection or looking to expand your horizons. If you're pursuing a deeper purpose during your travels, art is one of the most insightful ways to grasp a place's essence. Of course, having fun is great too!

That's a broad perspective, but I believe art encapsulates culture. It's a reflection of what's happening in an artist's mind at the moment of creation. If your goal is to truly understand a place, experiencing its art is arguably the best way to do so—second only to living there. It offers a quick path to grasping a location's character, you know?

Aislyn: It's incredible how art can also capture the essence of a particular era. You touch on this throughout the piece, which is quite fascinating. It allows us to immerse ourselves in times we might never have the chance to experience otherwise.

Mae: Absolutely, it's a brief glimpse into humanity, you know?

Aislyn: Right. If you had to recommend one city for travelers eager to delve deeper into Picasso’s world—since you explore several throughout the piece—what would you suggest?

Mae: Oh, that's a tough choice! I genuinely think all the cities are wonderful, but Málaga stands out for me. Perhaps it’s because I never considered visiting there before, but it turned out to be a hidden gem on my itinerary. It’s a stunning city, and they’ve done an excellent job of honoring Picasso’s legacy as his birthplace.

You can visit several museums showcasing his works there, making it a charming destination. I’d also recommend exploring the south of France, with its various villages. There isn’t a single village he focused on; he left his mark all over France.

So, Málaga represents the start of his journey, while the south of France marks its conclusion. It’s fitting, considering Málaga is his birthplace and the south of France is where he passed away. I truly believe these two places have done an admirable job of honoring his legacy. Plus, they’re both smaller locations, you know?

Málaga is a quaint town. Then there’s Antibes, Saint-Valery-sur-Somme, and Mougins—all smaller destinations. I find the atmosphere there to be more laid-back, which I really appreciate.

Aislyn: Speaking of his legacy, there’s so much more you couldn’t touch on. Was there anything you wished you could have included but struggled with?

Mae: Yes, I really wanted to explore the more controversial aspects of Picasso, which have been talked about quite a bit in popular culture recently. There’s a lot to unpack there. For instance, Picasso’s misogyny and the various mistresses and wives in his life—honestly, it was overwhelming to keep track of all those names.

The challenge I faced was that this topic could easily be its own episode—discussing Picasso's misogyny. I touched on it briefly, but it ties back to my earlier point about the bulls and the minotaur.

During this trip, I realized that Picasso was acutely aware of how poorly he treated women. I’m not trying to excuse his actions, but it’s fascinating to see how he acknowledged this and channeled it into his artwork. When you consider the minotaur, there are numerous half-human, half-animal figures in Greek mythology, each symbolizing different ideas. For example, the satyr, which is half man, half goat, embodies humanity's wild desires and the pursuit of pleasure.

However, the minotaur is distinctly a monster. He consumes people and represents a dark secret of the city—'Oh, nobody knows about the minotaur, but young people keep vanishing.' This reflects Picasso’s darker side, as he seemed to perceive his mistreatment of women as a path to becoming a better artist.

In a way, he viewed women as sacrifices, much like the young people offered to the minotaur to maintain the city’s stability. Picasso's relationship with women mirrored this; he experienced loss early on when his youngest sister, Concepcion—nicknamed Conchita—died at just seven years old. He often felt responsible for her death, yet he believed that enduring such a tragedy enhanced his artistry. He seemingly echoed this pattern in his interactions with women.

Aislyn: This raises the ongoing debate about separating an artist from their work. It seems like that’s a central part of the discussion here. Given Picasso's history and how he intertwined his art with his relationships with women, it feels nearly inseparable.

Mae: Personally, I don’t think you can separate an artist from their art. It’s crucial to reflect on your own relationship with the art itself. I believe it’s still valid to appreciate a movie or a book created by someone problematic.

I believe that our relationship with art is significant because it acts as a time capsule, reflecting where we were in life when we first encountered it. This doesn’t diminish its validity; rather, an individual’s life experiences undeniably shape their artistic expression. Human relationships are intricate, and our connections to art can be just as complex, and that’s perfectly acceptable.

Aislyn: Returning to the context of the time period, right? While it's not an excuse, these events unfold within specific historical frameworks. Now, looking at them from a 2023 perspective, it’s essential to examine this critically, but yes, it remains complicated. Reflecting on your entire trip, was there a particular moment that has lingered in your mind over the months?

Mae: I would have to say my experiences in Mougins and Antibes stood out the most. Perhaps it’s because they marked the end of my journey, and I was contemplating the final chapters of someone’s life. I began in Picasso’s birthplace and traveled to Paris, where he achieved fame, creating this expansive narrative of a man shaping his own destiny.

I’ll elaborate more in the piece, but he faced numerous challenges and ultimately emerged as an international icon. Yet, it felt somewhat melancholic being in Mougins and Antibes, witnessing him at this stage of life—it seemed like he was a mere shadow of his former self. It prompted deep reflections on what it truly means to live.

Mae: I hail from San Antonio, Texas, home to the McNay Art Museum. Nestled in a serene Spanish colonial mansion, it was one of my favorite escapes from the Texas heat. It provided a lovely respite from school and the chaos of my aunt’s Chinese restaurant, where I worked as a waitress. I would typically visit the museum at least once a week.

San Antonio isn't particularly celebrated for its museum scene. However, as a young person, I was captivated by art, making the museum a sanctuary for me.

Over the years, I became quite familiar with their permanent collection. The works of Edward Hopper, Georgia O’Keeffe, and Diego Rivera felt like familiar companions. And then there was Picasso. The McNay boasts a substantial collection of his pieces, but two have always resonated with me, even as a child, and I continue to return to them: Woman With a Plumed Hat and Crouching Woman.

Woman With a Plumed Hat is rich with moody blues and greens. The woman, adorned with a grand hat, looks straight at the viewer with a knowing half-smile and rosy blush on her cheeks. She exudes strength and confidence. Even without a background, the painting evokes the essence of Madrid's vibrant nightlife behind her. It's a stunning portrait that captivates me, especially because her direct gaze feels like a daring choice. It transports me to an enchanting version of Europe that seems lost to time.

Then there's Crouching Woman. Created during a time when Picasso was finally reveling in fame and recognition, he was free to express himself as he wished. In contrast to Woman With a Plumed Hat, Crouching Woman is starkly monochromatic and predominantly gray. The woman sits cross-legged, bare, with her private parts exaggerated in a crude manner. It was grotesque and unusual, yet I found it intriguing.

Even then, I was fascinated by the fact that these two vastly different works came from the same artist. Just across the gallery hung a water lilies painting by Claude Monet. Monet is undeniably brilliant, but he adhered to one artistic style—impressionism—throughout his career. To me, Picasso resembled a magician or an alchemist, transforming not gold, but himself through his art.

I view myself as a creative individual. My profession revolves around writing, I enjoy playing the banjo, and I have a passion for baking and sewing. Since those summer days, my fascination with Picasso has grown, particularly his artistic growth and his remarkable knack for constantly reinventing himself.

In May, over twenty years after I first encountered those paintings as a child and fifty years since his passing, I embarked on a journey to Europe to physically trace Picasso's life in the cities that were significant to him. My goal was to deepen my understanding of him and explore how his surroundings shaped his art.

I began my journey at the place of Picasso's birth in 1881, which is Málaga, Spain.

Málaga

I arrived in Málaga on a Saturday morning as the city was just starting to awaken. Known as a favored stop for cruise ships along the Mediterranean, Málaga is nestled against the Sierra de Mijas mountain range, with its boulevards lined with blooming jacaranda trees.

During the day, Málaga maintains a tranquil atmosphere, but as night falls, it transforms into a vibrant hub filled with bouncers, thumping techno music, and vendors calling out to entice you into nightclubs.

Back in Picasso’s era, the local economy thrived on the steel and fishing industries, along with renowned vineyards known for muscatel. However, Málaga gained its greatest fame for anchovies. The people of Málaga are so synonymous with this delicacy that they are affectionately called boquerones, which means the tiny fish in Spanish. In letters to his younger sister, Lola, Picasso often playfully referred to her as boquerona.

My hotel was situated right in the heart of the city, dominated by the impressive Cathedral of Málaga. Although Picasso wasn’t baptized here, he likely visited and walked through its majestic space a few times.

The cathedral stands out as one of the most striking ones I’ve encountered in Europe. Instead of the traditional arrangement of priest and pulpit at the front, the priest delivers sermons from the center of the church, with rows of pews radiating outward like rays of sunlight. It reminded me of the grand megachurches you might find in Texas.

Scattered throughout the church are haunting and distorted paintings of saints facing gruesome fates, such as Saint Lucy with her eyes being plucked out. The dreary organ music echoed for the entire half hour I was there, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of a Dario Argento film.

I found myself pondering how the imagery, music, and overall eerie ambiance might have influenced a young Picasso. His family, particularly his mother, held strong religious beliefs, while Picasso himself was famously an atheist.

After exploring the cathedral, I opted to hike up to Castillo de Gibralfaro, a Moorish fortress dating back to the 14th century that offers a stunning view of the city. What immediately drew my attention was the massive bullfighting arena below.

Constructed in 1874, just seven years prior to Picasso's birth, the bullfighting ring became one of the artist’s cherished spots, which he frequented with his father.

Picasso and his father had a rather intricate relationship. Examining some of Picasso’s early works, it's evident that he possessed extraordinary talent from a young age. He created his first painting, El Picador Amarillo, at just eight years old. His father, a lifelong painter himself, quickly recognized his son’s gift but felt a twinge of jealousy. By the time Picasso turned 13, his father believed he had nothing left to teach him.

Moreover, he never fully managed to satisfy his father, Jose Ruiz. His father wished for him to adhere to traditional artistic methods—and for a time, Picasso did comply. However, it was clear that he harbored his own artistic ambitions.

Despite all their conflicts, the tension between them would fade away at the bullfighting ring. There, they would enthusiastically support the matadors, marvel at the bulls, and appreciate the elaborate costumes. Young Picasso was completely captivated by the thrilling spectacle and vibrant energy.

He once remarked to the French novelist André Malraux, “The life of a Spaniard consists of Mass in the morning, bullfighting in the afternoon, and visiting the brothel at night. What connects these activities? Sadness.”

Picasso was fascinated by the bulls, the matadors, and the vibrant crowds, with these motifs appearing often in his work. However, I believe he resonated more with the bull than the matador. While the bull symbolizes masculinity, it also embodies the most tragic and sympathetic role in a bullfight—after all, it is the bull that always meets its end.

After spending three days in Málaga, I felt a pang of sadness as I prepared to leave. Yet, as I stepped onto the plane, my excitement grew for the next destination on my journey: Barcelona.

Barcelona

Barcelona somewhat reminds me of my current home in L.A., nestled among mountains and overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

At the core of Barcelona lies the Gothic Quarter, an area that exudes an almost indescribable medieval charm. With its ancient stone structures, winding cobblestone streets, and impossibly narrow alleys, I can easily picture someone tossing their chamber pot out a window here.

As I strolled through the city, I passed countless souvenir shops and restaurants, the aroma of fresh paella enticing from within. I also ventured through the city’s red light district, home to dispensaries and the brothel that inspired one of Picasso’s most iconic works, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. This painting showcases five naked women, two adorned with African-style masks.

By noon, my phone’s health app alerted me that I had covered over six miles within the Gothic Quarter. It felt like the right moment to grab some lunch, so I made my way to Els Quatre Gats, a charming art nouveau café once favored by Picasso and other modern artists. The name “El Quatre Gats” translates to a Catalan saying meaning “just a few people,” a notion that no longer holds, as the café has transformed into a bustling tourist hotspot. I completely understand why; the Moorish arches, whimsical woodwork, and grand piano create an enchanting atmosphere, making it easy to imagine enjoying absinthe in a smoky lounge during the mid-20th century.

Picasso relocated here with his family in 1896 at the age of 15 to attend the School of Fine Arts. It was in Barcelona, amidst the vibrant city life and its red light district, that he began to assert his independence. He turned against his father, Catholicism, and the traditional norms of art, evolving into something entirely new—something distinctly his own.

Although his stay in Barcelona was short, it ignited a profound period of transformative growth for Picasso. During this time, he ceased signing his works as “P.R. Picasso” or “Ruiz Picasso,” completely shedding his father's name. He began to sign simply as “Picasso.”

This was also when he forged a deep friendship with Carles Casagemas, a bond that would lead to the emotional turmoil of Picasso’s Blue Period after Casagemas's death. This era also brought forth one of my cherished childhood paintings, Woman With a Plumed Hat.

The narrative surrounding Casagemas’s death is often romanticized by art historians—and I believe it’s misguided. The common tale suggests he took his own life due to romantic rejection, but the reality is far darker. In 1901, he attempted to murder a woman named Florentin, who refused to accept his love letters. He shot at her in a café but missed; believing he had killed her, he then turned the gun on himself in front of his actual girlfriend.

Following Casagemas’s death, Picasso poured his grief into canvas after canvas, diving headlong into his Blue Period. Poet Guillaume Apollinaire remarked that the works from this time felt “wet and blue like the humid depths of the abyss.”

During my visit to the city, I ventured into Barcelona’s Picasso Museum, where I encountered one of his portraits of Casagemas. In this piece, Casagemas stares directly at the viewer with piercing, anxious eyes. The dark background seems to threaten to engulf him entirely. Standing in the gallery, I felt the heavy air of anguish and tragedy that surrounded Casagemas. I also contemplated how much of Picasso's attitude towards women mirrored his friend's experience. Historical accounts suggest he was not kind to the women in his life—but that's a story for another time.

The next destination on my journey was the City of Light: Paris. It’s here that Picasso transformed into an international art sensation.

Paris

Paris is among my favorite cities. I adore its Haussmannian buildings, the art nouveau designs, and its countless museums. Plus, the presence of over a thousand bakeries and patisseries brimming with baguettes, macarons, and irresistibly cute pastries adds to its charm.

What truly sets Paris apart is its dynamic art scene and the artists it nurtures. Montmartre, one of its most renowned artistic neighborhoods, has drawn figures like Langston Hughes, Jim Morrison, and, of course, Picasso. Today, it's a canvas of graffiti, where you’re more likely to spot someone in a mesh T-shirt than a cravat.

In 1904, Picasso made the permanent move from Spain to France, feeling he had outgrown Barcelona. He believed Paris would offer him greater recognition—and financial success. However, his journey to stardom was anything but quick. He initially lived in a cramped, run-down studio in Montmartre with his girlfriend, Fernande Olivier. The place was infested with fleas and adorned with peeling wallpaper. At times, he could only afford to paint on cardboard instead of canvas.

During this period, Picasso faced political challenges as well. For years, he was under surveillance by the French police due to suspicions of being an anarchist and communist. This stemmed from the company he kept—anarchists and communists. In 1940, he applied for French citizenship but was denied and never attempted again.

However, Paris eventually treated Picasso well. He forged friendships with notable figures like Henri Rousseau, Apollinaire, and Gertrude Stein, mingling with the elite of Parisian society during some of the most productive years of his artistic journey. It was here that he painted his iconic work, Guernica, which he exhibited at the 1937 Paris Exposition. Through his friendship with poet and director Jean Cocteau, he also met his first wife, Olga Khokhlova, a Russian ballet dancer, although that relationship ultimately ended.

One afternoon, I strolled through Montparnasse, a neighborhood that once attracted the bohemian crowd. I passed La Rotonde, a legendary café in Paris that was among Picasso’s favorite haunts, frequented by other artists like Cocteau, Paul Gauguin, and Anaïs Nin.

The café is also a spot favored by French President Emmanuel Macron. Just a month before my visit, it had been set ablaze by protestors opposing the government's decision to raise the retirement age to 64.

Today, you can explore an extensive collection of Picasso’s works at the Musée Picasso in Paris. This museum was established after his passing to honor his legacy and to assist his heirs in avoiding a hefty inheritance tax. As I wandered through the museum, I couldn’t help but ponder how it must have felt for him to witness France dedicate an entire museum to his art after years of rejection and surveillance by the state.

Now, I embark on the final leg of my journey to the place where Picasso chose to spend the last years of his life: the south of France.

Antibes and Mougins

The approach into Nice is stunning. As you touch down, the majestic Alps cradle the French coastline, with the famously azure waters of the Côte d’Azur sparkling below. Driving through the south of France, it’s clear why Picasso decided to settle here in 1955 with his second wife, Jacqueline Roque. The scenery is reminiscent of Málaga.

Before his permanent move in 1955, he had previously lived in Antibes with Françoise Gilot and often vacationed in the region while residing in Paris. Gilot, an artist in her own right, left Picasso in 1953—she was the only woman to do so. This time, however, he committed to staying in the area for good.

Antibes is a charming little town, dominated by Fort Carré, a star-shaped fort dating back to the 16th century. After a necessary stop to indulge in pastries at a local bakery, I made my way to the town’s Musée Picasso, dedicated to the later years of his life.

In his seventies and eighties, Picasso entered a phase of artistic regression. This wasn’t a decline in talent—rather, he began to revisit themes from his earlier years, such as matadors, bulls, and harlequin clowns. Remarkably, he returned to painting on cardboard, even though he was financially secure by then.

Picasso’s influence and legacy are woven throughout the south of France. In nearby Vallauris, you can find the first statue he gifted to the public, portraying a man cradling a lamb. Vallauris is also where he met his second wife, Jacqueline Roque, at a ceramics studio, and it’s where he discovered his passion for pottery.

Ultimately, Picasso chose to spend his remaining years in the village of Mougins. It was conveniently close to his doctor’s office, and he resided in a lavish 35-room villa—quite a contrast to the flea-ridden Paris apartment of his past.

Mougins is a picturesque town with roots tracing back to the Medieval era, climbing elegantly up a hillside. From its heights, one can enjoy sweeping views of the French countryside, including the nearby town of Grasse, known for growing ingredients for some of the world’s most expensive perfumes. Today, a large statue of Picasso’s head greets visitors as they enter Mougins.

Tragically, Picasso never had the chance to return to Spain. It’s unlikely he intended to leave permanently. However, he refused to set foot back home while Francisco Franco, the dictator of Spain at that time, was in power. Franco died just two years after Picasso, who passed away on April 8, 1973.

As I strolled through the cobblestone streets of Mougins, savoring a bag of macarons, I pondered the feeling of being perpetually homesick, unable to return home. Before his death, Picasso had requested to be buried in a matador’s hat and cape, a nostalgic nod to the joyful days spent at the bullfighting ring in Málaga—a detail I discovered during this trip, bringing tears to my eyes.

I reflected on how Picasso’s various artistic phases mirrored his life experiences. His early, classically trained years with his father, the poverty and rebellious spirit of his Blue Period in Barcelona and Paris, and the eccentricity of his cubist era in France—his works serve as a geological record of human emotion.

On my final day, as I wandered the tranquil streets of Mougins, I considered the past ten days spent exploring Spain and France in an effort to grasp the essence of an artist who departed over fifty years ago. What is it about Picasso’s art that continues to resonate with people today?

For me, it lies in his fearless expression of life on canvas, without reservation. I recall the very first Picassos I encountered at the McNay Museum in San Antonio, Woman With a Plumed Hat and Crouching Woman. They feel like snapshots of his journey: one created when he was just 20, brimming with vitality and rebellion; the other crafted at 77, challenging the boundaries of art. Despite their stylistic differences, both paintings are authentic, utterly unique, and overflowing with emotion—exactly what I believe makes art truly great.

Aislyn: For more of Mae’s insights on art, culture, and life, including a compelling essay about her upbringing in Texas, follow her on Dinogo.com or Instagram—we’ll share links to some of her standout stories, including that essay, in our show notes along with her social media accounts. Thank you for tuning in. Next week, we’ll return with a narrative about traveling in Mumbai, India, following a transformative loss.

Eager for more Travel Tales? Head over to Dinogo.com/podcast, and don’t forget to connect with us on Instagram and X. We’re @Dinogomedia. If you enjoyed today’s journey, I hope you’ll return for more captivating stories. Subscribing is the best way to stay updated! You can find Travel Tales by Dinogo on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or any podcast platform you prefer. And please remember to rate and review the show; it helps fellow travelers discover us.

You’ve been listening to Travel Tales, brought to you by Dinogo Media. This podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed and produced by Strike Audio.

Everyone has a travel story. What’s yours?

Eager for more Travel Tales? Head over to Dinogo.com/podcast, and don’t forget to connect with us on Instagram and X. We’re @Dinogomedia. If you enjoyed today’s journey, I hope you’ll return for more captivating stories. Subscribing is the best way to stay updated! You can find Travel Tales by Dinogo on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or any podcast platform you prefer. And please remember to rate and review the show; it helps fellow travelers discover us.

You’ve been listening to Travel Tales, brought to you by Dinogo Media. This podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed and produced by Strike Audio.

Everyone has a story from their travels. What’s yours?