Unveiling the Piccaso in Daley Center Plaza in 1967 drew a crowd of gawkers. |
The
Chicago Picasso—it has no other name—turns 50 years old this August and it is a very big deal. How big a
deal it is might mystify non-Chicagoans
who underestimate the Toddlin’ Town’s
municipal vanity. Aspirations to be lauded as a World Class City
and center of the fine arts meets common Babbitt boosterism. It has already been the subject of essays by two of the city’s sharpest newspapermen, Rick Kogan of the Tribune who was at the dedication and Neil Steinberg of the Sun-Times,
who was not, as well as several
magazine pieces, all sorts of TV
time, and social media
postings.
The
city itself is staging a reenactment of
the unveiling at noon today in Daley Plaza conceived by artist and historian Paul Durica with all of the appropriate civic arts tsars and mavens and musical
performances by the Chicago
Children’s Choir and the After
School Matters Orchestra. The
musicians of the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra and Lyric Opera Chorus evidently
expected to get paid. This gathering is actually a week early.
I don’t know why they didn’t pick the actual anniversary. Maybe the Plaza was booked.
The
actual dedication was held on August
15, 1967 during a summer had been in
the news mostly for the riots that swept the South and West Sides. Mayor
Richard J. Daley, whose crown as
Boss of the City that Works had been tarnished, was mighty glad
for the opportunity to show off just how highbrow the Hog Butcher to
the World could really be.
Of
course today the Picasso is a—mostly—beloved Chicago icon. Back in 1967 many of
the city’s elite cultural gatekeepers,
some of whom had never gotten over the
shock of the 1913 Armory Show
and were widely looked down upon as
mere provincials by Manhattan sophisticates, and the blue collar, lunch box proletariat were
united in despising and being mystified
by the Spanish artist’s gift to a
city he had never seen. Many
suspected a commie plot or foresaw a
fall into decadence and corruption.
Others just thought it was ugly
and dumb.
Count
Chicago’s keenest observer, Daily
News columnist Mike Royko in the latter category. He called it “big,
homely metal thing …[with] a long stupid face…[that] looks like some giant
insect that is about to eat a smaller, weaker insect. It has eyes that are
pitiless, cold, mean.” Which meant it
was perfect for the city. “Its eyes are like the eyes of every slum owner who
made a buck off the small and weak. And of every building inspector who took a
wad from a slum owner to make it all possible.”
Classic Chicago chroniclers Studs Terkel and Mike Royko were both on hand to document the Picasso dedication. |
That
other tireless chronicler of Chicago voices,
Studs Terkel was on hand lugging around his heavy old reel-to-reel semi-portable tape recorder to capture the
wisdom of the hoi polloi. Quotes from
that tape litter almost all of the
stories being done this week about the original dedication. You can all most hear the hard bitten accents
of some. From Rick Hogan’s piece:
“A pelvic
structure of a prehistoric monster,” “A politician because it’s got so many
faces,” “A bird, “A big butterfly.” Some people were befuddled (“Is that the
front view?”) and one was obviously a loyal Democrat (“If Daley says it’s good,
it’s good enough for me”).
And
from Steinberg’s :
“At first glance, it looks rather grotesque…” said
one. “You got something like this, 99 percent of the people don’t know what it
resembles,” observed another. “A nightmare,” added a third. “A woman!?”
marveled another. “A woman, yes, definitely, now it makes some sense. At first,
when they had no idea what it was, I didn’t think too much of it. But now I
like the idea of a woman being placed at the civic center. It seems like the
woman has to do with everything in life, and this has to do with the good
things in life. This is a civic center and the goodness of a woman. That’s my
idea.”
Which reminds us of the huge controversy about just
what the hell the thing was, anyway, much of it fueled by the media. There
were many theories put forward—a vulture,
the artist’s pet Afghan hound, a
baboon, a starving lion, a woman of course, and just a big practical joke on the city. As for me,
youthful as I was at the time, I never
had any doubt it was a woman.
Despite attempts to revive the
controversy this year, mostly by clueless
TV anchor people, it turned out that I was right.
Picasso's Head of a Woman sketch from 1962 is pretty definitive in confirming the artist's subject. |
Art scholars have found doodles and sketches of
similar forms dating back to Picasso’s halcyon days in
Paris back in 1913. Somewhat definitive
is a 1962 sketch of a nearly identical form
that the artist clearly labeled Head of a Woman. Hard to argue with that. And we even know pretty certainly which woman—a teen age girl actually.
Sylvette
David was about 17 or 18 when Picasso spotted her in the company of her boyfriend walking by his studio in 1954. The old satyr
was smitten, as he often
was. He was able to get the girl with
the long swan like neck and the high pony tail that spread out behind
it to pose for him for several studies, including a realistic profile and several cubist deconstructions. Unlike many of his other muses he was never able to bed girl and in fact named one of his 40
compositions of her was called The One Who Said No. That pony tail not only became the “wings”
of the Chicago statue, it inspired
the signature look casual look for Brigit Bardot. Sylvette went on to her own successful career
as a painter and artist now known as Lydia
Corbett. She is now a lively 80
years old and recently said of Picasso, “I never thanked him enough. He immortalized
me. I’m like the Mona Lisa. Amazing, don’t you think?”
Back in 1957, I was not at the unveiling. I had graduated from Niles West High School in Skokie
that spring and was spending the summer washing dishes at a Howard
Johnson and getting ready to start Shimer
College in Mt. Caroll, Illinois that
fall. I read all about the controversy
in the papers, and undoubtedly devoured Royko’s sour take on it. I first saw it in person a few months later at an anti-war rally in the Plaza. As a matter of fact all of my early
encounters were at rallies and marches
where the towering sculpture dominated
the wide open space.
I remember being impressed by its size and how
its rust brown surface echoed the cladding of the Dailey Center
itself. I was pretty sure that Picasso
was not an art-to-match-the-sofa kind of
guy. I was right, he had not
dictated a color. That came from the supplier of the steel to construct it,
the American Bridge Company division
of the United States Steel Corporation
which used naturally oxidizing COR-TEN steel, the same material as
used in the building. Over the years
both have darkened to what is now a grey
with only hints of reddish brown.
Picasso was hands down the most famous artist in the world when he was
visited by a committee of Chicago boosters
bringing tacky gifts from Hizzoner with
a request for him to create a monumental art work for otherwise desolate plaza
of the new monument that the Mayor was erecting to himself. The artist was amused, flattered, and skeptical. But among the gifts was a photo of Oak Park’s native son Ernest Hemingway. Picasso excitedly
exclaimed, “My friend! I taught him everything he knew about bullfighting.
Was he from Chicago?” His visitors may
have been a little vague in their
reply. At any rate he agreed—and more
over agreed to make his creation a gift to
the city.
Picasso hasitly sketching out his intention. |
He started work in May, 1964 basing his design on
sketches he had already made, including the Head
of a Woman mentioned before. He translated those two dimensional images into a three
dimensional by making sketches on plywood,
cutting out the parts, and assembling
them with glue and wire.
He had been using a similar process to make smaller scale painted-on-sheet metal sculptures from his cubist reflections since Sylvette had
posed for him. But this time he proposed
to leave the surface of the finished work raw, rather than painted
in order to emphasize the shapes
that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles.
Picasso with few revisions translated this first
model into a 42 inch high maquette that was first displayed to
the public in London during a major retrospective exhibit. It drew raves
from the British art cognisante. Then the excited city hall put the model on
display at the Art Institute where
it remains to this day. So Chicagoans, at least the museum visiting slice of the population
knew what the pig in the poke was
going to look like. Some shared an
excitement of being in the avant
garde, but
many were furious on both esthetic and political grounds—the artist was a known leftist and had recently been glad
to accept a Lenin Prize, the Soviet Union’s answer to the Nobel Prize. There was loose talk in some captive
nation taverns in the city’s ethnic
neighborhoods of blowing the damn
thing to smithereens.
The Woods
Charitable Fund, Chauncey and Marion
Deering McCormick Foundation, and the Field
Foundation ponied up the roughly
$352,000 cost of erecting the 50 foot high sculpture that would weigh 147
tons. American Bridge created a final 12
high model for Picasso to approve that included some structural re-enforcements to support the enormous weight. The artist agreed and fabrication work began
at the U.S. Steel rolling mills in Gary, Indiana.
The parts
were delivered by truck and instillation began on a re-enforced pedestal on May 2. 1967. As it rose it was shrouded in scaffolding
and canvas. Work was completed in early August and
final touches were put on dedication plans.
Gwendolyn Brooks looks as conflicted as she felt getting ready to read a poem before the unveiling of the statue. |
On the big day the Plaza was filled with the
curious. Mayor Daley and every other politico
with enough clout crowded the dais along with all of the accredited art lovers. Gwendolyn
Brooks was asked to compose and read a new work for the occasion. Chances
were strong that Daley had never
read the works of the Black woman with strong opinions about race relations in the city, urban renewal, rampant police brutality, and the rising voice of Black Power. On
the other hand the poet had scored Pulitzer
Prize and someone had named her
Chicago’s Poet Laureate so she was just
what the doctor called for in a program meant to buck-up the city’s cultural credentials. For her part Brooks was flattered to be asked and aware that
this sort of thing was just what was expected of the Poet Laureate. But she was conflicted. She hardly knew what to think of what she
had seen of the sculpture and wasn’t
sure she liked it or approved. “Man visits Art, but squirms...” was as much enthusiasm as she could muster
that day just before the canvas shroud
dropped.
The ever vigilant Royko took note, however, of
the symbolism of Brooks’ prominent presence. “When [Aldermen]
Keane and Cullerton sit behind a lady
poet, things are changing.”
By the time the 25th anniversary rolled around in 1982 and Brooks was invited back for another crack at it, she had grown
used to and fond of the Picasso. She could be more honestly effusive.
Set,
seasoned,
sardonic still,
I continue royal among you.
I astonish you still.
You never knew what I am.
That did not matter and does not.
seasoned,
sardonic still,
I continue royal among you.
I astonish you still.
You never knew what I am.
That did not matter and does not.
When
the drapery finally dropped some observers
thought they observed a scowl on the
Mayor’s face. Others thought it was more
of a bemused smirk as if he was pleased as punch at getting away with a world class con. Likewise there are conflicting reports on the
crowd reaction. Loyal machine partisans in the media
reported cheers and applause. Others described
stunned silence giving way gradually
to the kind of polite pro-forma clapping
you would give to a third rate singer.
Sometimes the Picasso was crudely rendered and hardly recognizable in souvenirs like this bracelet charm. |
And thanks to city Law Department faux pas
Chicago lost the copyright on the monument’s image by publicly displaying it at the Art Institute without protection. Souvenir stands
were soon awash in post cards, posters, t-shirts, jewelry, snow-globes,
bronze trinkets of all sizes, and
high-end collector’s edition art
models. Something for every budget. No one could come home from a Windy City visit without some kind of Picasso
memorabilia.
On the cultural front the statue was the first
monumental outdoor modern public art in the country. It immediately blew heroic bronzes and classical motifs out of the water.
Within a decade it seemed that no public
project could go up without a head
scratching set piece from downtown
plazas and government buildings
to modest village halls, suburban shopping malls, and even office and factory campuses. This trend
was accelerated with a Federal Government policy of 2% of the cost
of new construction set aside for the arts and state and local policies
that aped it. A lot of sculptors got work, not all of them creative
genius like Picasso.
Nowhere was this more apparent
than in Chicago’s Loop where Alexander Calder’s Stabile adorns the Dirksen Federal Building, Claus Oldenburg’s ironic Bat Column rises, Marc Chagall’s mosaic covered monolith graced
the First National Bank of Chicago
Plaza, as well a work by Joan Miro’s
and Henry Moore stand. But so does mediocre stuff not to mention the hideous Snoopy in Blender outside the white elephant James R. Thompson State of Illinois building.
In 2017 the Picasso has weathered to gray with just hints of the former rust brown. Children continue to use it as the world's most expensive piece of playground equipment. |
Today Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate a/k/a
The
Bean in Millennium Park may
have taken the title of Chicago’s most famous and photographed work of public art, but will all the publicity she is getting for her birthday the Old Girl at the Daley Center might just stage a come-back.
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