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Lot Essay
The one hundred etchings of the Suite Vollard were created by Pablo Picasso between 1930 and 1937, a seminal period in his career. The images function almost as entries in a diary, illustrating a galaxy of motifs and preoccupations, including the artist’s desire for his young mistress and muse Marie-Thérèse Walter, his fascination with the process of artistic creation and transformation, the battle of the sexes and the analogy of making art and making love.
The man who commissioned the project, Ambroise Vollard was one of the most influential dealers during a momentous period in the history of European art. A large, brooding figure, impenetrable and vain, he was both loved and loathed by those with whom he dealt. A champion of new and overlooked artists, he rescued Paul Cezanne from obscurity, was responsible for the first retrospective of Vincent van Gogh and was the first to show Paul Gauguin’s Tahitian paintings.
Vollard’s greatest claim to fame, however, might have been his decision to give the nineteen-year-old Picasso his first show in 1901, beginning a relationship that lasted until Vollard’s death nearly four decades later. When it came to Picasso’s paintings Vollard’s support was somewhat sporadic, dictated as it was by the interests of his wealthy clientele and his failure to grasp the great leap forward that was cubism. But in terms of printmaking, his interest in Picasso was far more steadfast. Their first significant collaboration came in 1913, with the publication of 15 etchings known as the Suite des Saltimbanques.
The late 1920s were years of profound change for Picasso, with interwoven developments in both his artistic and personal life. Many of the themes that were to find form in the Suite Vollard can be traced back to these turbulent years. By then Picasso had left the poverty of his early life in Paris far behind and he lived a respectable, bourgeois existence with his wife, the former ballerina Olga Khokhlova. While he enjoyed the material benefits of success, Picasso began to resent restrictions on his freedom and gradually his marriage deteriorated. It was dealt the coup de grace by Picasso’s chance encounter with the seventeen year old Marie-Thérèse Walter in 1927.
The forty-five year-old artist’s opening gambit on meeting the young woman has entered Picasso lore. Struck by her Grecian profile and athletic physique, Picasso reportedly approached her outside a metro station, saying: “Mademoiselle, you have an interesting face. I would like to do a portrait of you. I feel we are going to do great things together...I am Picasso” (M. Fitzgerald, A Question of Identity, in Picasso’s Marie-Thérèse, exh. cat., Acquavella Galleries, New York, 2008, p. 11).
For much of the next decade her features would dominate Picasso’s work, not least in the Suite Vollard, and she is ubiquitous in the largest coherent group in the series, known as the Sculptor’s Studio. These forty-six etchings, showing an artist and model working, relaxing or carousing in a studio, expand upon themes Picasso developed in two illustrated book projects in 1931; Ovid’s Metamorphoses, which includes the tale of a sculptor who falls in love with his creation, and Honoré de Balzac’s Le Chef d'Oeuvre Inconnu (commissioned and published by Vollard), which relates the tale of the doomed painter Frenhofer and his struggles to capture reality in paint. Ideas surrounding transformation and metamorphosis, the contrast between the created work and reality, particularly the impossibility of making any work of art so perfect it could compete with life itself, were of profound interest to Picasso and play a significant role in the Suite.
Another key element in Picasso’s oeuvre and personal mythology, the Minotaur, is present in no fewer than twenty-one scenes. For the Surrealists, the Minotaur represented the dark center of man’s violent, irrational desires. While he also recognized the Minotaur as the monster within, Picasso identified the creature more closely with the fighting bull of his native Spain, whose power, pride and ferocity he regarded as corresponding to his own virile persona.
Among the concluding works in the Suite is a sequence depicting a blind Minotaur: “the chastened Minotaur, old, pathetic and blind, is led by a young girl with the features of Marie-Thérèse, who, in the first plate, holds a bunch of flowers, while in the other three she clutches a fluttering white dove of peace. The figure of the Blind Minotaur was Picasso’s invention; it is an image that goes beyond the artist’s personal nightmare to evoke the wider political darkness threatening to engulf Europe with the rise of Fascism in Germany and Italy" (S. Coppell, Picasso Prints—The Vollard Suite, London, 2012, p. 35).
Where or exactly when the idea first came from for a suite of this size and ambition is not known (perhaps unsurprisingly, given Vollard’s aversion to written contracts) although it is thought to have been connected to a trade between the two, with Vollard exchanging two paintings in return for etching plates from Picasso; some of which Picasso had already worked on, others that were made specifically for the project. The plates were created over a period of seven years, beginning in 1930, with the most intense period of creativity spanning the years 1933-1934. Ninety seven were eventually gathered together, and Picasso either offered, or was asked by the notoriously vain Vollard, to create three portraits of the publisher to round up the number to 100.
An even greater mystery is that we have no clear idea what its final format was to have been. Vollard’s life was cut tragically short by a car crash in 1939, only weeks after the edition had been printed, and his plans for the Suite perished with him. Subsequent research has pieced together evidence that the etchings were to have been paired with two poems by André Suarès, Minotaure and Minos et Pasiphaë. Exactly how they might have been integrated with or divided between the two texts, is not recorded. With regard to publication, the plan might have been for it to appear in both book and album format, accounting for the two editions in which the Suite exists—260 sets on smaller margin paper, 50 on larger sheets. Three sets were also printed on vellum, one of which is in the Musée Picasso, Paris.
The master printer Roger Lacourière was handed the task of printing the edition. Lacourière worked with many of the great names of the day, including Georges Braque, Marc Chagall, André Derain, André Masson, Joan Miró and most intensively with Henri Matisse. Lacourière developed a close working relationship with Picasso, providing technical advice and guidance. As the project progressed, one can see Picasso growing in sophistication as a printmaker, devising his own methods for combining etching and engraving techniques to magnify the expressive power of his images.
While Vollard’s death was perceived as a disaster for most of the two dozen artists and writers who had projects in progress with him, for a man with vision and daring it presented an enormous opportunity. Fortunately, a man with those qualities became part of the narrative.
Henri Marie Petiet was born into an aristocratic family. He was a precocious collector from his earliest years, with an interest in illustrated books and, by extension, fine prints. He soon became a presence in the auction rooms and by degrees began to trade as well as collect, eventually opening his own gallery. Petiet knew, as did everyone else, that Vollard’s house on the rue de Martignac was an Aladdin’s cave, packed with paintings, drawings, ceramics, sculptures and prints. Whilst Petiet was interested in many of the prints and livres d’artiste, for him the main prize was the series that became known as the Suite Vollard. Intense negotiations with Vollard’s executors took place and, despite Paris being under Nazi occupation, a deal to acquire the entire edition was eventually concluded.
While the acquisition was a coup, it came with two challenges; the first was that Petiet received only 97 of the plates. The three portraits of Vollard had found their way to a competitor, forcing Petiet to negotiate with a rival whenever he wanted to sell a complete set. The second challenge was the fact that Picasso had signed very few impressions before Vollard died. It was clear to Petiet that he could substantially increase the return on his investment if he could induce the artist to sign more of the edition. This he managed to do, but only sporadically, and at some cost—Picasso charged 100, then 200 francs, for each signature, in cash. Aware that Picasso might change his mind at any time, Petiet presented sets of the large format edition to the artist first. When it came to the smaller format sets, Petiet shrewdly sent Picasso the most important subjects from each set for signing, reasoning that it would be better to have more sets with some subjects signed rather than fewer with all 100 plates signed.
As Petiet had feared, by 1969 Picasso had grown weary of this arrangement and the signing stopped. Ultimately, many sets were broken up, either by Petiet or by subsequent owners, with the result that 75 years on, complete sets are a distinct rarity.
The man who commissioned the project, Ambroise Vollard was one of the most influential dealers during a momentous period in the history of European art. A large, brooding figure, impenetrable and vain, he was both loved and loathed by those with whom he dealt. A champion of new and overlooked artists, he rescued Paul Cezanne from obscurity, was responsible for the first retrospective of Vincent van Gogh and was the first to show Paul Gauguin’s Tahitian paintings.
Vollard’s greatest claim to fame, however, might have been his decision to give the nineteen-year-old Picasso his first show in 1901, beginning a relationship that lasted until Vollard’s death nearly four decades later. When it came to Picasso’s paintings Vollard’s support was somewhat sporadic, dictated as it was by the interests of his wealthy clientele and his failure to grasp the great leap forward that was cubism. But in terms of printmaking, his interest in Picasso was far more steadfast. Their first significant collaboration came in 1913, with the publication of 15 etchings known as the Suite des Saltimbanques.
The late 1920s were years of profound change for Picasso, with interwoven developments in both his artistic and personal life. Many of the themes that were to find form in the Suite Vollard can be traced back to these turbulent years. By then Picasso had left the poverty of his early life in Paris far behind and he lived a respectable, bourgeois existence with his wife, the former ballerina Olga Khokhlova. While he enjoyed the material benefits of success, Picasso began to resent restrictions on his freedom and gradually his marriage deteriorated. It was dealt the coup de grace by Picasso’s chance encounter with the seventeen year old Marie-Thérèse Walter in 1927.
The forty-five year-old artist’s opening gambit on meeting the young woman has entered Picasso lore. Struck by her Grecian profile and athletic physique, Picasso reportedly approached her outside a metro station, saying: “Mademoiselle, you have an interesting face. I would like to do a portrait of you. I feel we are going to do great things together...I am Picasso” (M. Fitzgerald, A Question of Identity, in Picasso’s Marie-Thérèse, exh. cat., Acquavella Galleries, New York, 2008, p. 11).
For much of the next decade her features would dominate Picasso’s work, not least in the Suite Vollard, and she is ubiquitous in the largest coherent group in the series, known as the Sculptor’s Studio. These forty-six etchings, showing an artist and model working, relaxing or carousing in a studio, expand upon themes Picasso developed in two illustrated book projects in 1931; Ovid’s Metamorphoses, which includes the tale of a sculptor who falls in love with his creation, and Honoré de Balzac’s Le Chef d'Oeuvre Inconnu (commissioned and published by Vollard), which relates the tale of the doomed painter Frenhofer and his struggles to capture reality in paint. Ideas surrounding transformation and metamorphosis, the contrast between the created work and reality, particularly the impossibility of making any work of art so perfect it could compete with life itself, were of profound interest to Picasso and play a significant role in the Suite.
Another key element in Picasso’s oeuvre and personal mythology, the Minotaur, is present in no fewer than twenty-one scenes. For the Surrealists, the Minotaur represented the dark center of man’s violent, irrational desires. While he also recognized the Minotaur as the monster within, Picasso identified the creature more closely with the fighting bull of his native Spain, whose power, pride and ferocity he regarded as corresponding to his own virile persona.
Among the concluding works in the Suite is a sequence depicting a blind Minotaur: “the chastened Minotaur, old, pathetic and blind, is led by a young girl with the features of Marie-Thérèse, who, in the first plate, holds a bunch of flowers, while in the other three she clutches a fluttering white dove of peace. The figure of the Blind Minotaur was Picasso’s invention; it is an image that goes beyond the artist’s personal nightmare to evoke the wider political darkness threatening to engulf Europe with the rise of Fascism in Germany and Italy" (S. Coppell, Picasso Prints—The Vollard Suite, London, 2012, p. 35).
Where or exactly when the idea first came from for a suite of this size and ambition is not known (perhaps unsurprisingly, given Vollard’s aversion to written contracts) although it is thought to have been connected to a trade between the two, with Vollard exchanging two paintings in return for etching plates from Picasso; some of which Picasso had already worked on, others that were made specifically for the project. The plates were created over a period of seven years, beginning in 1930, with the most intense period of creativity spanning the years 1933-1934. Ninety seven were eventually gathered together, and Picasso either offered, or was asked by the notoriously vain Vollard, to create three portraits of the publisher to round up the number to 100.
An even greater mystery is that we have no clear idea what its final format was to have been. Vollard’s life was cut tragically short by a car crash in 1939, only weeks after the edition had been printed, and his plans for the Suite perished with him. Subsequent research has pieced together evidence that the etchings were to have been paired with two poems by André Suarès, Minotaure and Minos et Pasiphaë. Exactly how they might have been integrated with or divided between the two texts, is not recorded. With regard to publication, the plan might have been for it to appear in both book and album format, accounting for the two editions in which the Suite exists—260 sets on smaller margin paper, 50 on larger sheets. Three sets were also printed on vellum, one of which is in the Musée Picasso, Paris.
The master printer Roger Lacourière was handed the task of printing the edition. Lacourière worked with many of the great names of the day, including Georges Braque, Marc Chagall, André Derain, André Masson, Joan Miró and most intensively with Henri Matisse. Lacourière developed a close working relationship with Picasso, providing technical advice and guidance. As the project progressed, one can see Picasso growing in sophistication as a printmaker, devising his own methods for combining etching and engraving techniques to magnify the expressive power of his images.
While Vollard’s death was perceived as a disaster for most of the two dozen artists and writers who had projects in progress with him, for a man with vision and daring it presented an enormous opportunity. Fortunately, a man with those qualities became part of the narrative.
Henri Marie Petiet was born into an aristocratic family. He was a precocious collector from his earliest years, with an interest in illustrated books and, by extension, fine prints. He soon became a presence in the auction rooms and by degrees began to trade as well as collect, eventually opening his own gallery. Petiet knew, as did everyone else, that Vollard’s house on the rue de Martignac was an Aladdin’s cave, packed with paintings, drawings, ceramics, sculptures and prints. Whilst Petiet was interested in many of the prints and livres d’artiste, for him the main prize was the series that became known as the Suite Vollard. Intense negotiations with Vollard’s executors took place and, despite Paris being under Nazi occupation, a deal to acquire the entire edition was eventually concluded.
While the acquisition was a coup, it came with two challenges; the first was that Petiet received only 97 of the plates. The three portraits of Vollard had found their way to a competitor, forcing Petiet to negotiate with a rival whenever he wanted to sell a complete set. The second challenge was the fact that Picasso had signed very few impressions before Vollard died. It was clear to Petiet that he could substantially increase the return on his investment if he could induce the artist to sign more of the edition. This he managed to do, but only sporadically, and at some cost—Picasso charged 100, then 200 francs, for each signature, in cash. Aware that Picasso might change his mind at any time, Petiet presented sets of the large format edition to the artist first. When it came to the smaller format sets, Petiet shrewdly sent Picasso the most important subjects from each set for signing, reasoning that it would be better to have more sets with some subjects signed rather than fewer with all 100 plates signed.
As Petiet had feared, by 1969 Picasso had grown weary of this arrangement and the signing stopped. Ultimately, many sets were broken up, either by Petiet or by subsequent owners, with the result that 75 years on, complete sets are a distinct rarity.