What is a face, really? Its own photo? Its make-up? Or is it a face as painted by such or such painter? That which is in front? Inside? Behind? And the rest? Doesn't everyone look at himself in his own particular way? Deformations simply do not exist.
Aix-en-Provence, France
I was thinking about Pablo Picasso today… and remembering how it felt to hear the news that he had died (on 8 April, 38 years ago, at the age of 91).
Image: Picasso’s painting Les Demoiselles d’Avignon juxtaposed on a portrait photo of the great man.