I have always been drawn to Picasso, for reasons unknown to me. And not necessarily for his works, but for the man and personality that he was throughout his life. I'm not necessarily a large admirer of his art, aside from his goat sculpture and his less popoular pieces from the Blue Period. I picked up a book about him on a whim one early, sunny morning, on my way to my doctors appointment. I saw it in the sale bin and felt incredibly drawn to this particular book. Now why I chose this biography over so many that are largely available out there, claiming to describe Picasso's life, loves and artwork with all the recorded evidence available known to be in existence - I am not certain. The fact that it was in the sale bin, would lead many to believe that it could not be a written account of his life worthy of reading. It turns out that this biography was written by one of his one time "illegitimate" grandchildren. I knew a fair bit about the man's work, solely through the teachings of my Art History course in college, but soon came to learn a lot more through the stories of his personal life described in this book. I must admit, it has touched a chord in me because his eccentric lifestyle and life took me back to my childhood when I would visit my grandparents in the country side of Hungary for the summers. Even the times living with my dad at certain intervals throughout my life (my parents were separated by the time I was born and my mother had custody of me). Picasso had many influences on those involved in his life, some good and some bad and I see some resemblances with my grandfather and the way he touched many lives. My grandfather was a stern man, hard working and expected the same from those around him. Much like Picasso I believe. One would think he loved no one but himself, but he had his moments where he showed his love and how deeply he cared for those he loved. He was a jack of all trades, because despite being an engineer his entire life he sought out the teachings of various artist and tradesmen. He lived in a region rich with many artists and tradesmen. In fact, they hold a craft/trades fair in one of the neighboring villages each year. He and my grandmother bought an old farmhouse in a small village just on the northern part of Lake Balaton after selling their apartment in Tapolca, a city 3 hours from Budapest, our capital. This is a rich region covered with vinyards of various renouned names. This was the playground of my childhood, where my friends, cousins and I would go roaming in the fields, hiking through the volcanic hills and swimming in the lake. My grandfather built many sculptures and created many interesting crafted things throughout their new property. My one fondest memory was when he built a fort, made out of woven branches. A lifesized fort that you could climb up into and peer out the top of. I believe he was still very much a child trying to live the imagination of his youth, and he lived vacariously through us, his grandchildren, who allowed him to continue living those dreams. He built a fountain in the form of a half fish- half man, with arms outstretched holding a pan into which he spit out water into a deep well where tadpols, minows and water spiders would swim throughout the hot summers. One of his most famous pieces of work were his his sculpted orange peels. He was developing a book on instructing how to make these sculptures but sadly never completed it having succumbed to colon cancer in 1997. Many of those pieces exist now in a display cabinet at my grandmother's farmhouse, smelling of dried old oranges. To this day that smell evokes in me many great memories and feelings. Much of Picasso's life reminds me of my grandfather and the way he inspired us all. I took much of that for granted as a child, as many children must, not understanding the fleeting of time and the meaningfulness of these creations our loved ones leave behind. If I could achieve as much productivity in creativity and beauty as my grandfather had in his lifetime, I will have lived quite an accomplished life.
My paintings are greatly influenced by my parents and my grandfather. Nature and fauna have held an important sybolism in my family. My father had started to illustrate certain animal totems that had been adopted by certain relatives in our family at some time during my youth, seeing these be repeated in different pieces created by my father I think these came to hold an importance for me as well. I beleive that is why I am drawn to these and have such a strong desire to show hommage to them in my work. Crows/ravens, insects, birds, and rodents just to name a few. These all represent certain characteristics of the various members in my family. And oddly my mother began adopting crows in her own pieces when she worked with her photography, entirely independently of my father's influences. I have also grown fond of the steam punk trend, which was unbeknownst to me to be in existence at the time. I just happened to find I shared a passion for many things others seemed to have as well. Things that reflect a decayed art behind the most un assuming objects. Things of a time past and forgotten, a romantic/post apocalyptic perception of human evolution and our creations. Clocks, mechanisms of various kinds, old steel objects, utensils. All this drives my passion and makes me want to create. A desire to capture a moment, a time, a feeling of something that brings comfort to me. Brings me back to all my old memories and all loved ones living and long gone.
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