Carillon Magazine

  "Quickly," he said as she came into the room. "Put down the paint and pose as you did before."

     "But monsieur," Marie placed the tubes on the table.  "I have to tell you. The shop only had blue paint. They're waiting for the rest to come in."

     "No! Sacre bleu!" Picasso put his head in his hands then anxiously examined the tubes of paint. "Yes, all blue," he said. "The light's fine.

     You're ready. What to do?"

    Then a big smile crossed his face. He began to open the tubes. "So let the gods conspire! Take the pose, Cherie!"

     Marie stood by the window as before.

 Picasso squeezed blue paint into his palette and began to work quickly. "Lift that beautiful chin. Your hands that are like delicate birds wings, display them more. Yes! Yes! It's working, Marie. It catches something.”

As he worked he talked. "A revelation - inspiration has hit like a bolt from the blue! The ocean's blue, the sky is blue, the sky's the limit!" He stepped back to look at what he'd done.

"The critics, huh! the critics - they'll think I've hit a doom and gloom mood, Marie. I can see their words now. You know the critics. They'll think I'm sad. How can I be sad when I'm painting you, Marie. You're sunny! You're sky  blue!"

Marie chanced a slight smile.

"Did you know the line is infinite? So is blue, sky blue, they're both infinity. So, what am I painting? Let the critics guess. It's going to be the first of many, Marie, so confound the critics, they'll never understand. They never do.”

Picasso finished and did many more blue pictures. He and Marie never told anyone how these blue pictures came about. As for the critics, they were confounded. All they could do was call these pictures, "Picasso's blue period".

Issue 12 (cont)