Woman in white 1923

Editor: We’re looking at Picasso's "Woman in White," a charcoal drawing on paper from 1923. There’s such a gentle melancholy about it, a quiet stillness. What do you see in this portrait, something so different from his later, more angular works? Curator: Isn’t it intriguing? It feels almost…tender, doesn't it? A fleeting glimpse into Picasso's soul, perhaps? There's a vulnerability in her averted gaze, a softness in the shading that you wouldn't necessarily associate with his Cubist period. I wonder if it reveals a desire for classical harmony amid the chaos of modern life, a return to the serene portraits of Ingres. Don't you find a similar longing in its simplicity? Editor: I suppose, I'm so used to seeing the fragmentation, the multiple perspectives… It’s hard to reconcile this soft rendering with his more assertive style. Curator: Perhaps he saw a different aspect of the world in this particular moment, in this particular woman. Art is, after all, a mirror reflecting not just reality, but also the artist's internal landscape. The lack of color also lends the piece to something other than capturing life, maybe capturing time, or a moment, a reflection. It could also be said it is like capturing music on a page... Editor: That’s beautiful – capturing music. I think I’ll look at it with fresh ears now. Curator: Yes, like hearing a melody played on a single, resonant string. Hopefully one with much to reveal.