Original Galerie Madoura cashier's table

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It was July 26, 1946: the studio was humming with its usual activity, each worker attending to his own special tasks and occupied with his own private thoughts, when there appeared on the doorstep a character in search of history; a character who, like all men, must pursue his path in the desert until that moment when his own secret destiny is blindingly revealed to him. Here then is our hero, on the threshold of our studio - but also of an historic event - introducing himself with the radiant simplicity of a medieval pilgrim, whose humble knock belies the warmth of his presence, the strength of his passion and the splendour of his exploits. It was, of course, Picasso, who entered that day with so little fanfare. Later he was to become an integral part of our daily life, a privileged friend and member of our little family, but this blessed state would come about slowly and gradually, in the most uncomplicated way, as if this unexpected and valuable reality were merely the logical effect of ordinary cause; and his presence was to become as familiar and necessary to us as the most trivial of our daily pleasures and habits. He worked quietly and with untiring regularity, his attention completely engrossed by the work in hand. In accordance with his principle of using only what was there, he refused to ask for help, even in the most difficult situations. It may have seemed as if we had abandoned our guest to his personal quandaries, in reality each of us was constantly - although unobtrusively - on guard to satisfy his least requirement. Picasso worked with such speed that we were obliged to intervene frequently to spare him periods of enforced idleness. We had always to be ready to handle material and equipment and keep the different products he used - powdered oxides, slip emulsion, glazes and enamels - in a state of readiness. When a craftsman or technician is asked by an artist to initiate him into a new technique, he must not merely content himself with helping the artist acquire the technique, or pointing out the practical ways of accomplishing his goals. He must also be prepared to second-guess the artist's research, to feel, understand and facilitate his purposes, to contrive to suggest to him in every circumstance, every possibility that he himself knows of through his own experience. His continuing task is to provide the perfect material environment for the artist's work, but he must also be conscious of his 'pupil's' unformulated tensions, hesitations and underlying motivations; he must foresee and satisfy all his enigmatic needs. This ritual unfolded in an atmosphere of studious attentiveness. And even had they not been so naturally inclined, Picasso's companions would have been fascinated by the spectacle of his extraordinary power of concentration, despite the occasional long pause made necessary from time to time by some intervention of ours. But at other times these intervals were very brief: a few quick words were exchanged, a dialogue begun without much conviction, and coming to a halt almost immediately before Picasso's obsessive haste to deliver himself of a difficult and wayward concept. Work would then continue in a flurry of painstaking activity and meditative silence. He would take as his starting point the most trivial of pretexts, and give it as sparkling and unexpected twist, using it to evoke past memories, introduce the most unexpected references, and lead it into the most fruitful discussions, all of it seemingly improvised on the spur of the moment. Picasso's gift for description is nowhere more evident than in his ceramic work. Someone once wrote that Picasso's work is 'passionately autobiographical'. This remark is also valid for that part of his narrative genius represented by the ceramic work which took shape before our eyes and which we helped guide to its true destiny. The work is full of Picasso's unique emotional sensibility, by which he describes himself both in the object which is his expression and in the manner of his description. Thus we can truthfully say that each piece has its own story, its own beginning: in a conversation, a visit, a trip or a corrida. Every event, internal or external, must be transcribed on the spot and simultaneously described by the way in which it is treated. Thus the fleeting impression is seized and immediately entrusted to the nearest messenger to hand. In the unusual event that there was nothing in the immediate environment to inspire the artist's desire, Picasso abandoned the trappings of the present and gave free rein to his imagination, to dreams of Antique idylls in some timeless and far-off Arcadia. At the end of a day's work, he would often go home to spend the whole night drawing. As he left he would tell us, visibly intrigued: 'I'll see what comes out of it!', as if he were merely the transcriber of a message from some distant universe; as if he expected to find the finished drawings waiting for him in the mailbox. Does this mean that the artist acts as a medium capable of receiving mysterious messages from unknown worlds? Anyone who has enjoyed the privilege of working with Picasso knows that such valuable collaboration always generates unexpected questions; the creative spirit roams far beyond the normal range of habit and convention, and easily ignores the sterile, daily round. Sometimes a proposition which is at first sight outrageous, soon proves to be of the most urgent relevance. If we look more closely at the seemingly strange propositions, we find that the constant paradoxes of Picasso's genius have given birth to innovations whose strangeness is equalled by their undeniable sophistication. His unfaltering determination to master a seemingly paradoxical exigency, to find an original and simple solution, can then be seen as an exciting adventure in the enrichment of human consciousness. This was the climate in which we savoured our daily blessing, working without fear in the midst of the continual ambushes which perfidious consciousness lays for us, in that atmosphere of excitement so essential to research and pursuit of the work before us. The life we continued to share with Picasso, the enthusiasm which he infused into our common work, and the sincere good nature which permeated all our contacts, provided the Master with an environment free from constraint, and with one of the essential conditions of the joy informing all his Vallauris work. Taking his familiar themes, he expresses himself with characteristic vigour, or with no-less-characteristic gentleness, with impetuosity or charm, with all those elements of the unique personality revealed in his prolific creations. As for us, humble assistants in the creation of a body of work noted as much for its plastic excellence as for its historical value, it was our privilege to express the fullness of our joy and happiness in having lived his extraordinary period of daily creativity with the Master. Thanks to Picasso's genius and his extraordinary generosity, this Herculean labour will remain for many years an inviolate memory. Cast to the winds of history with the crazy prodigality of genius, it wears the certainty of its place in time. This is the moment to admit our justified pride that the fruit of so much generous effort and internal conflict, transcending obscure hesitation and futile exegesis, has succeeded in finding a medium worthy of its human content. For when the restless centuries have bleached ink and paper, when glaze and paint have lost their lustre and smoothness, when the slow aggression of time has gnawed away stone and eaten bronze, all human endeavour will be covered in dust. It is then that men curious about the past will sift through the desert sands of past generations and will find, fresh and shining in its incandescent wholeness, the precious evidence left behind by the Master of Vallauris. Excerpt from Georges Ramié, Céramiques de Picasso, Paris, 1984 English translation: Philippa Crutchley LITERATURE ABBREVIATION: A. Ramié, Picasso catalogue de l'oeuvre ceramique edité 1947-1971, Madoura, 1988.

Original Galerie Madoura cashier's table

19th century

Details

Original Galerie Madoura cashier's table
19th century
with two draws and a low shelf on square legs
Height: 31 in. (78.7 cm.)
Length: 77½ in. (197 cm.)
Depth: 32 5/8 in. (83 cm.)

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This lot will be removed to an off-site warehouse at the close of business on the day of sale - 2 weeks free storage

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