Wednesday, April 05, 2006

I Knew It Wasn't Just My Own Perverse Fantasy

That's Degas hiding in the shadows to the left, there.

Well, you would, wouldn't you?


Lorcy said...

The problem with 'Picasso wanking' is that no matter what happnes it always gets into your eye....or some one else's round the corner...

John said...

I knew you'd have something to say!

I saw the entire portfolio of these drawings at the Museu Picasso in Barcelona a few years back. I could have stayed there all day looking at them, but as you can imagine, Maria found them . . . er . . . unsettling. I suspect she didn't want to have to think that someone desginated a "genius" was actually no different to other blokes.

I was also reminded of Woody Guthrie's love letters. When he was ailing with Huntington's Chorea, his letters to his wife became increasingly explicit and, what shall we say, untypical. Supposedly this a side-effect of the disease, but you know as well as I do that it wasn't that his libido had suddenly gone through the roof but that whatever mechanism that had had inhibited him from saying these things before had just disappeared. I mean, how many times a day would you think about a lady's nether regions?


And it's not just blokes, now I think of it. Have you ever read Emma Goldman's letters to Alexander Berkman? They're pretty explicit for their time.

My only concern is that Kara will now turn up to make some comment about sex-crazed guys from Timperley.