Picasso m'a touché, moi aussi

Viewing art in a formal setting like a museum has its ups and downs. Some downs are the lines, crowds, standing, and cost of it all; but, the ups seem to greatly exceed the downs. The actual effort it takes to place your self in front of a work and consider it for a period of time is taxing, but can yield great rewards. Today, I was reminded of this very fact when I went to the Pompidou. In a couple hours I only moved across about 200 meters of the fifth floor as I looked at some of the painters and sculptures of the beginning of the twentieth-century.
Matisse, Braque, Picasso, Kandinsky, Miro, Kupka are all big names I've studied a bit in school. Their importance in the progression of artistic thought and technique at this volatile time in history is undeniable. Each of these people was trying desperately to communicate essential ideas and concepts in a context that is completely alien to me, yet even today their works can speak to me. As I labored over the aim of some of Matisse's paintings and wandered over to the abstractionist section Kandinsky's work grabbed my attention. It was so dissonant and flashing; it was harsh and disjointed. In the same room I looked at some of Kupka's paintings, that by comparison, were subdued and harmonious. In fact, it seemed to me that the only similarity the works shared was abstraction: in that, they didn't seek to represent any real forms or figures in life.
Both artists works seemed very musical to me. Indeed, hanging on the wall was a little plaque noting the two artists aspirations to achieve musical qualities in their work. It was noted that Kandinsky was inspired by the atonal music of Shoënberg, and Kupka was inspired by the fugues of Bach. As I stood pondering Kupka's paintings a strong wave of feeling came over me, just like music. It is stunning how successfully Kupka rendered these musical sentiments onto a canvas.



I had to sit down. The next room--more Picasso--had a similar effect on me. Picasso is so highly spoke of in art books and by other artists that I've been waiting for "my Picasso moment," that is, the moment his work hits me in person.
It happened with the above piece called, "Le minotaure." Next to the piece was a little plaque talking about the importance of the reoccurring mythical figure in Picasso's art. Apparently, he loved the idea of the minotaur as representative of man: half God, half animal.
As I studied the crude tableau I was overwhelmed with its urgency. The minotaur is oversimplified and reduced to long legs and a head; his eye is wide-open and terrified. The overlapping paper on which the figure was roughly drawn seems to evoke captivity as the figure is clearly frozen mid-sprint. It was so telling about so many aspects of human nature, our mortal state, and of concepts the artist was clearly preoccupied with.
Not a bad intro to the Pompidou.