This is the story of the moment when I first stood before the Guernica by Picasso at the Museo Reina Sofia in Madrid.
This painting, in fact, keeps flitting in and out of the labyrinth of my fond childhood memories. Memories of our home in Calcutta where a framed print of the Guernica hung on the wall of my bedroom since I can remember. Memories of lazy summer afternoons, my father sitting on the bed and telling me stories about the painting: little details, about the artist, the history. Naturally, a visit to Madrid had to include a look at the epitome of many of my childhood memories.
One section of the Museum has been constructed solely for the display of the painting. I stepped into the huge hall which housed the painting. There it was, the whole of one wall, standing at 11ft tall and 25 ft wide in shades of grey, black and white. I could not take my eyes off it. I looked, wide-eyed. And then, it spoke to me.
It spoke to me of a war which has left the world in despair. It spoke to me about sorrow, hope. It spoke in a beautiful but mysterious language, in shades of known and unknown. Some of it was lucid and clear and some difficult and incomprehensible. I understood some of it and didn't understand the rest. But I responded instinctively. And in that room full of people I could sense that each one of us was weaving a story around it.
I am not an art connoisseur. I have never tried to fathom abstract art. But Guernica called out to me, it moved me. It was a novel and unique experience. No work of art had given me goosebumps or moved me to tears before. But then again, no other work of art is the Guernica.
I walked around the room, breathing in the experience. The other wall of the room had a series of photographs by Dora Marr (Picasso's one-time lover and friend) chronicling the making of the Guernica. It was like a storyboard with photos of the piece at different stages of completion. There were audio guides, books, pamphlets on the painting. I browsed through them. It was such a wonderful beginning to our European holiday. The Guernica had overwhelmed me and won me over.
And like my father, I am definitely going to tell the story of the Guernica to my children.
I am not an art connoisseur. I have never tried to fathom abstract art. But Guernica called out to me, it moved me. It was a novel and unique experience. No work of art had given me goosebumps or moved me to tears before. But then again, no other work of art is the Guernica.
I walked around the room, breathing in the experience. The other wall of the room had a series of photographs by Dora Marr (Picasso's one-time lover and friend) chronicling the making of the Guernica. It was like a storyboard with photos of the piece at different stages of completion. There were audio guides, books, pamphlets on the painting. I browsed through them. It was such a wonderful beginning to our European holiday. The Guernica had overwhelmed me and won me over.
And like my father, I am definitely going to tell the story of the Guernica to my children.
That's the painting above but it barely captures the true spirit of the work.
If you are in Madrid do not miss the Guernica at the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia.
