A Face for Picasso by Ariel Henley

Author:Ariel Henley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

PART II

AFTER

SEVENTEEN

My first day back to seventh grade was the start of a section on abstract art. Ms. J showed us images of paintings by Jackson Pollock and colorful, shapely creations by Wassily Kandinsky. It was in Kandinsky’s Composition series that I once again saw Picasso. This was how each class went: Ms. J would introduce the unit by explaining the type of art and show us examples. Then we would have a week to think about and create a rough draft of our assignment. We were required to sketch out our ideas to show we’d thought critically about each project. We’d spend the second week working on the final draft. Ms. J would put out a large stack of the high-quality, professional art paper for us to use, along with any supplies we might need.

Ms. J made art feel like a safe place for nonartists and artists alike. Because it wasn’t about being better than anyone else in the room. It was about learning and growing and being better than we were yesterday. It was about learning how to use our creativity to convey our emotions.

“Feel free to use any of the resources in the back to get inspired,” she announced. “Raise your hand if you have any questions. I’ll be wandering around the room.”

I was stuck and unsure what to draw, so I walked to the back of the classroom, where Ms. J had a small shelf of art-related books. I thumbed through the titles before selecting one with drawings and paintings by Picasso.

I flipped through the book, vivid colors and bold shapes on each page. I stopped when I reached a painting called Girl Before a Mirror. On one side of the painting was a woman made of geometrical shapes. Her distorted reflection took up the other half. I stared at the painting and thought of the many hours I’d spent in front of my own mirror. The blurb next to the image commented on how others had a face they showed to the world and a face—a side of them—they kept for themselves. Reading this made me angry. Not because of the woman in the painting or even Picasso. My anger went deeper than that. Because my face was how others defined me, and I could never hide it. The woman in the painting was physically beautiful but in a self-critical moment, saw her reflection as ugly. But I was actually ugly on the outside. When others looked at me, this was all they saw, all they would ever see.

I studied the image for a moment before turning the page to find an etching of a Minotaur. My gaze was locked on the drawing when Ms. J appeared next to me. I could see her from the corner of my eye as she lowered her elbows to the top of the bookshelf and leaned forward.

“Some say the Minotaurs in Picasso’s work are supposed to be him.” I could feel Ms. J watching me examine the creature in the image.

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