Saturday, 29 March 2014

Picasso's Amazing Gallery (Part III)

I handed a CD with this text to Robert Crumb's wife, Aline Kominsky, in 2012. A very friendly woman, with a well-improved surgically-altered plastic face.

I never got an answer. I wonder why...

The Man And His Art: Picasso In His Own Words
The Grand Exhibition Tour - Part 3

There was an outright bidding war over this one, and the bidders were all male which is hardly surprising given the amazing tits portrayed. In the end, tennis star Andre Agassi outbid them all. His taste for beautiful women is well-known and appreciated. He phoned me the day after he bought it and asked me if I could pop over to his ranch in Las Vegas and make the nose bigger. He calls this painting "Almost Perfect".

 I didn't make the nose bigger. As much as I wanted to make "Almost Perfect" even prettier, I had to refuse him. Because if I did that for him, I'd have to do it for everyone else who bought my art and asked for changes. Do you have any idea how many artworks I would be changing per day?... People ask for bigger breasts, or they think seven legs aren't enough on a cat, or they want the sex to be more explicit, or they want the sperm in the upper-left corner to mix with the victim's blood in the lower-right corner, etc, etc, etc. I just don't have the time!

However, for Agassi I decided to do it, just to satisfy my own curiosity.

When Andre saw this he nearly shit himself. He now calls it "Perfect". We've been great friends ever since. He says this is the best thing he'd ever since ever since he witnessed Steffi vomit through her nose once.

"The Violin"
One of mine and Braque's first Cubist works. We actually had to smash a violin into pieces of rectangles, triangles, and squares in order to paint this. As we did with all our Cubist works. So I'm not sure it's correct to call this abstract: what you see is what we had as the model.

Me with my favourite striped shirt. I love parallel lines. All geniuses wear them. It symbolizes something. 
I can't think what right now, but I will get back to you as soon as I come up with something appropriately "deep", and then we shall round up the art critics to fawn all over me.

And if this isn't genius, I don't know what is.  
"Woman With Rock Preparing For Attack". 

Remember those lesbians in the desert? Here's one of them, preparing to catch a desert snake by hitting it over the head with a rock. Her lover has left her for a traveling circus and left her to die in the desert. But at least she still has her breasts with her, balanced skillfully on one of her incomplete legs (dehydration will do that to legs – shorten them). The fact that her breasts are still intact, as crappy as they may look, represents the ray of hope that every one of us should have in any difficult situation life can throw on us. Ergo, the message is this: never give up if your tits are still there!

"Nude Woman Playing Mandolin"

The first piece that resulted in a fusion of cubism and serial-killerism. Namely, we had our first living object as a cubist model. We had to cut up the model into squares, triangles, and rectangles in order to do the art, which we hadn't done before with living models. Of course, we had to find a victim first. Fortunately, a person fell right into our lair. However, we didn't use a woman: an art critic came to our studio for an interview and he said that cubism sucked – though he phrased it in far many more and longer words - so me and Georges kind of spontaneously decided to strangle him. We put a wig on his head, and a pair of fake breasts i.e. apples, and voila – the first cubist mandolin player in drag was born!

Even an uncultured modern-pop-art-hating idiot can see the obvious implications and ramifications of this post-cubist masterpiece. 
A couple of billiard balls, having escaped from the seemingly permanent captivity of the confining green pool table, develop and grow a couple of rabbit-feet (because they bring luck) with which they escaped. The painting doesn't show the escape itself. It shows the next logical step: it is Christmas time, and the billiard balls are in hiding, dressed up as Father Christmas. Note how cleverly the balls use the rabbit feet to imitate a white beard. The working title was "Father Christmas Is Monitored By A Protruding Alien Snake-Eye From Above" until I realized what was going on and re-named it to "Butch Cassidy & Sundance Kid As Billiard Balls In Snowy Denver".

"Dead Man Playing Violin".

Me and Georges thought it would be a waste to throw away the fragmented violin and the critic's bits and pieces before using them for another cubist masterpiece. I arranged the violin bits, while Georges went back to the river to pick up whatever was left of the critic.

"Fall Again And I'll Paint Someone Else!". 

People think my grandmother is blue because this isn't from my blue phase. Actually, I used to torture granny Maria by painting her blue when she was asleep. She died in 1912 when I painted her whole body blue and her skin couldn't breathe. (Like in Goldfinger, when the dumb and decadent Western agent watches as his favourite whore dies covered with gold paint.) This painting is also from 1912. In fact, it was done three days after her post-mortem. I had to lean her on a wall, but she kept falling, so I had to pin her to the wall with nails. If you look at her breasts you will notice that they're both too firm and pointy for her age. I know this is supposed to be modern art, but have you ever seen an 87 year-old woman with such firm features? No, those breasts were very floppy, and it is the pins creating the illusion of eternal youth. I do admit that I made her face too pretty, though, pins or no pins. In fact, I caught Claude masturbating to the painting when he was only 23. These kids today sure start masturbating at a young age to their great-grandparents…

Georgina Braque, my 17th wife, and the true love of my life, here decades after the sex-change. Even in old age she looked hot, though I could never get it through that thick skull of hers that too much make-up makes you look like a clown whore. She is a little senile now, mostly spending her time playing with those IQ-test triangles and squares, trying to fit them in the right hole. It ain't exactly cubism, but it keeps her docile. And docileness is a prized commodity in any nursing home; while she plays with her geometric toys they can calmly collect her pee that exits her quasi-vagina now more often than when we were married, which was so long ago.

Ah, the Grand One… "Guernica: Heads And Arms Doing Things"

A classic of the 20th century. Look at the left side of the painting: a bull reaches to french-kiss a human who has his head up, enveloped in sexual ecstasy while holding a corpse that he is molesting. This was typical of Franco's soldiers; they had sex with all the Socialist dead soldiers, then tried to make out with our bulls. Such scum. Critics of the painting – and I can count those on one six-fingered hand – say that it's a woman getting sexually excited upon seeing her child die in her arms, and spontaneously reaching to the bull for a kiss. This is a lie. That corpse is obviously not a child but a bald-headed midget.
See that idiot in the middle of the right half, holding a candle? I mean, the whole battlefield is lit up rather well with a lamp (middle-left), and yet this dumb Fascist pig lights up a candle! It's so fucking symbolic!

One of the most popular aspects of this tour-de-force work is that I used texts from the Communist Manifesto; it's on the horse. I have chosen the most fitting parts, and I quote one of my fave bits that you'll find on the horse's ass: "We shall include the proletariat in the campaign of mass extermination of the proletariat, even if that sounds a bit paradoxical, monstrous and even a little unfair. And when we finish with them, we shall exterminate, butcher, and maim proletariat from neighbouring countries, and then their neighbouring countries, and so on. This will go on until all proletariat has been pretty much wiped out, apart from a small group that we need to maintain the infrastructure, which will result in Utopia – a place of peace and harmony, for there will be barely anyone left to cause waves, ask questions and be a nuisance to the Revolution. Then, and only then, will our immortal and divine leaders be able to live in bliss, in this atheistic Utopia which has no place for icons and such crap…"  

Not many know this or they forget it, but this work fit in nicely and overlapped with my serial-killer period. Under the pretense of showing the horrors of war and Fascist atrocities, I used the opportunity to get as many hackings, mutilations and axe-deprivations onto this large canvas. The intellectual study of severe bodily harm was very prevalent in this period. Observe the bald person lying on the floor on the bottom left, screaming: he isn't screaming because he is hurt but in fact is ecstatic that he finally had the opportunity to slice a man in half. In his right hand (bottom middle of painting) he is holding a baseball bat which he broke hitting another man on the head with after the batteries ran out of his chainsaw.
You know what? I was planning to make some major changes to this painting, and then re-release it as "Guernica: Some New Stuff Extra". In fact, I might as well do it now… Won't take a minute… I do this sort of thing real quick.

There! Fan-tas-tic!... What do you think? Don't say a word!... It's genius, I know. We'll make tons of dough with this. And then a year later I'll re-re-release it with a couple of more tits and maybe a large pair of cajones this time, as well… I might also scribble something on the back of the canvas, promoting the re-re-release as a sort of B-side bonus.

Don't ask me about that one, much less show it to me! Every time I see it I have to laugh.

It was supposed to be a poster for UNICEF, underlining the oppression of children in the Third World, but it ended up being this hilarious image of a blue boy running away from a smelly toilet! Hilarious. UNICEF used it anyway, but for their DFCWST (Don't Frighten Your Kids With Smelly Toilets) campaign. The working title was "Save The Children", but I changed it to "Panic-Stricken Boy Steps On Millipedes That Get Stuck On The Soles Of His Blue Shoes".

Jesus Christ, another brilliant UNICEF project. This one represents the official campaign for fat handicapped kids and their right to be fondled by adults pretending to be clowns. After it was found out that the then-head of UNICEF was a pedophile (and an ex-clown even) they fired him, and was replaced by Joey Fatone from that boy-group. Get it? Fat-one! I submitted this painting to him but he said the campaign changed from the whole "fat kids/fondling clowns" shamble to "fat kids and their god-given right to eat like pigs". I thought Fatone wouldn't use it, but he loved the fat kid's obesity so much that UNICEF ended up using it for their "fat kids love blue rooms" campaign.

More Picasso Bullshit, Part I: 


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