Early Work, 1904-1937

The Suite des Saltimbanques, a series of fifteen loosely-related etchings and drypoints created from late 1904 through 1905, was Picasso’s first major body of work in printmaking and is integrally connected to his paintings and drawings of the same period. These are the very first plates created by Picasso. His work from this phase is distinguished by an astonishing economy and elegance of line that reveal the artist’s immensely sophisticated eye even at this early stage in his career.

After creating the plates for the Suite des Saltimbanques, Picasso took them to the renowned printer Delâtre and commissioned a small edition of unknown size, some of which were shown in an exhibition in early 1905. Though he had gained some recognition at this point, Picasso was still quite poor and hoped to generate income from the prints. His dealer at the time, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler managed to sell some; however, most did not sell and were ultimately gifted to friends and supporters (most of these are signed and dedicated). In 1911, after Picasso had begun to achieve some renown for his Cubist work, the powerful dealer Ambroise Vollard purchased the plates. They were steelfaced to protect the delicate lines, printed by Louis Fort, and published in 1913 in an edition of 250 on Van Gelder Zonen paper and a deluxe edition of 27 or 29 impressions on Japon. Few of these impressions were signed, and if so, only at Picasso’s whim. While it is up for discussion as to the better printer, the earlier and much rarer impressions pulled by Delâtre are generally more appreciated by collectors. The quality of his impressions was excellent; unfortunately, Picasso did not enjoy working with Delâtre as he printed the plates as he interpreted them, while Fort, in contrast, carefully followed Picasso’s direction.

The French term saltimbanques refers to the itinerant acrobatic circus performers who had provided impromptu entertainment throughout Europe for centuries, at one point holding a special position at the French court performing commedia dell’arte. However, at the turn of the Twentieth Century they had long returned to their status as street performers, segregated from society and living from hand to mouth on the merits of their talents. When the Saltimbanques theme emerged in Picasso’s work, his life had recently improved after a long period of extreme poverty and relative isolation. Beginning in 1900, he frequently traveled to Paris from his native Spain and had a modestly successful exhibition in mid-1901, but after the suicide of Casagemas, a close friend to the artist, he retreated to Barcelona for several years and created what are now categorized as his Blue period paintings. When he permanently returned to Paris in the spring of 1904, he joined a group of young avant-garde artists and poets living together in a large apartment building, the Bateau Lavoir, in the Montmartre neighborhood. They spent much of their time together in salon style and often visited the nearby Cirque Médrano, where the saltimbanques performed. He eventually came to know many of the performers and they became his primary subject matter. As Picasso’s art invariably reflected his own life, it is generally agreed that he saw many similarities between himself and his circle of friends in the Saltimbanques—independent, creative, and dignified in spite of their economic circumstances.

While the saltimbanques and commedia dell’arte characters had inspired artwork throughout the centuries—and, particularly, as stand-ins for the performative and isolated role of the artist in society—Picasso’s treatment of this subject stands apart for its depth and breadth, as well as its profoundly human and timeless quality.* Appearing as single figures or in groups, the subjects range in age from infants to the elderly and span a wide range of roles, from clown to friend to mother to King. Set in minimal landscapes or backstage with occasional props, Picasso imbued his subjects with poise and a sense of aloofness that belies their apparent interconnectedness, each one maintaining a strong presence as an individual, playing his or her part in the grand theater of life.

*For further discussion see E.A. Carmean, Jr. Picasso: The Saltimbanques. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art, 1980.

The Suite des Saltimbanques, a series of fifteen loosely-related etchings and drypoints created from late 1904 through 1905, was Picasso’s first major body of work in printmaking and is integrally connected to his paintings and drawings of the same period. These are the very first plates created by Picasso. His work from this phase is distinguished by an astonishing economy and elegance of line that reveal the artist’s immensely sophisticated eye even at this early stage in his career.

After creating the plates for the Suite des Saltimbanques, Picasso took them to the renowned printer Delâtre and commissioned a small edition of unknown size, some of which were shown in an exhibition in early 1905. Though he had gained some recognition at this point, Picasso was still quite poor and hoped to generate income from the prints. His dealer at the time, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler managed to sell some; however, most did not sell and were ultimately gifted to friends and supporters (most of these are signed and dedicated). In 1911, after Picasso had begun to achieve some renown for his Cubist work, the powerful dealer Ambroise Vollard purchased the plates. They were steelfaced to protect the delicate lines, printed by Louis Fort, and published in 1913 in an edition of 250 on Van Gelder Zonen paper and a deluxe edition of 27 or 29 impressions on Japon. Few of these impressions were signed, and if so, only at Picasso’s whim. While it is up for discussion as to the better printer, the earlier and much rarer impressions pulled by Delâtre are generally more appreciated by collectors. The quality of his impressions was excellent; unfortunately, Picasso did not enjoy working with Delâtre as he printed the plates as he interpreted them, while Fort, in contrast, carefully followed Picasso’s direction.

The French term saltimbanques refers to the itinerant acrobatic circus performers who had provided impromptu entertainment throughout Europe for centuries, at one point holding a special position at the French court performing commedia dell’arte. However, at the turn of the Twentieth Century they had long returned to their status as street performers, segregated from society and living from hand to mouth on the merits of their talents. When the Saltimbanques theme emerged in Picasso’s work, his life had recently improved after a long period of extreme poverty and relative isolation. Beginning in 1900, he frequently traveled to Paris from his native Spain and had a modestly successful exhibition in mid-1901, but after the suicide of Casagemas, a close friend to the artist, he retreated to Barcelona for several years and created what are now categorized as his Blue period paintings. When he permanently returned to Paris in the spring of 1904, he joined a group of young avant-garde artists and poets living together in a large apartment building, the Bateau Lavoir, in the Montmartre neighborhood. They spent much of their time together in salon style and often visited the nearby Cirque Médrano, where the saltimbanques performed. He eventually came to know many of the performers and they became his primary subject matter. As Picasso’s art invariably reflected his own life, it is generally agreed that he saw many similarities between himself and his circle of friends in the Saltimbanques—independent, creative, and dignified in spite of their economic circumstances.

While the saltimbanques and commedia dell’arte characters had inspired artwork throughout the centuries—and, particularly, as stand-ins for the performative and isolated role of the artist in society—Picasso’s treatment of this subject stands apart for its depth and breadth, as well as its profoundly human and timeless quality.* Appearing as single figures or in groups, the subjects range in age from infants to the elderly and span a wide range of roles, from clown to friend to mother to King. Set in minimal landscapes or backstage with occasional props, Picasso imbued his subjects with poise and a sense of aloofness that belies their apparent interconnectedness, each one maintaining a strong presence as an individual, playing his or her part in the grand theater of life.

*For further discussion see E.A. Carmean, Jr. Picasso: The Saltimbanques. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art, 1980.

The Suite des Saltimbanques, a series of fifteen loosely-related etchings and drypoints created from late 1904 through 1905, was Picasso’s first major body of work in printmaking and is integrally connected to his paintings and drawings of the same period. These are the very first plates created by Picasso. His work from this phase is distinguished by an astonishing economy and elegance of line that reveal the artist’s immensely sophisticated eye even at this early stage in his career.

After creating the plates for the Suite des Saltimbanques, Picasso took them to the renowned printer Delâtre and commissioned a small edition of unknown size, some of which were shown in an exhibition in early 1905. Though he had gained some recognition at this point, Picasso was still quite poor and hoped to generate income from the prints. His dealer at the time, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler managed to sell some; however, most did not sell and were ultimately gifted to friends and supporters (most of these are signed and dedicated). In 1911, after Picasso had begun to achieve some renown for his Cubist work, the powerful dealer Ambroise Vollard purchased the plates. They were steelfaced to protect the delicate lines, printed by Louis Fort, and published in 1913 in an edition of 250 on Van Gelder Zonen paper and a deluxe edition of 27 or 29 impressions on Japon. Few of these impressions were signed, and if so, only at Picasso’s whim. While it is up for discussion as to the better printer, the earlier and much rarer impressions pulled by Delâtre are generally more appreciated by collectors. The quality of his impressions was excellent; unfortunately, Picasso did not enjoy working with Delâtre as he printed the plates as he interpreted them, while Fort, in contrast, carefully followed Picasso’s direction.

The French term saltimbanques refers to the itinerant acrobatic circus performers who had provided impromptu entertainment throughout Europe for centuries, at one point holding a special position at the French court performing commedia dell’arte. However, at the turn of the Twentieth Century they had long returned to their status as street performers, segregated from society and living from hand to mouth on the merits of their talents. When the Saltimbanques theme emerged in Picasso’s work, his life had recently improved after a long period of extreme poverty and relative isolation. Beginning in 1900, he frequently traveled to Paris from his native Spain and had a modestly successful exhibition in mid-1901, but after the suicide of Casagemas, a close friend to the artist, he retreated to Barcelona for several years and created what are now categorized as his Blue period paintings. When he permanently returned to Paris in the spring of 1904, he joined a group of young avant-garde artists and poets living together in a large apartment building, the Bateau Lavoir, in the Montmartre neighborhood. They spent much of their time together in salon style and often visited the nearby Cirque Médrano, where the saltimbanques performed. He eventually came to know many of the performers and they became his primary subject matter. As Picasso’s art invariably reflected his own life, it is generally agreed that he saw many similarities between himself and his circle of friends in the Saltimbanques—independent, creative, and dignified in spite of their economic circumstances.

While the saltimbanques and commedia dell’arte characters had inspired artwork throughout the centuries—and, particularly, as stand-ins for the performative and isolated role of the artist in society—Picasso’s treatment of this subject stands apart for its depth and breadth, as well as its profoundly human and timeless quality.* Appearing as single figures or in groups, the subjects range in age from infants to the elderly and span a wide range of roles, from clown to friend to mother to King. Set in minimal landscapes or backstage with occasional props, Picasso imbued his subjects with poise and a sense of aloofness that belies their apparent interconnectedness, each one maintaining a strong presence as an individual, playing his or her part in the grand theater of life.

*For further discussion see E.A. Carmean, Jr. Picasso: The Saltimbanques. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art, 1980.

Cubism, a movement founded by Picasso and his close friend Georges Braque in 1907, was a radical breakthrough in art that undermined nearly five centuries of tradition. The term was coined in a critic’s disparaging review of Braque’s 1908 exhibition at Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler’s gallery, in which the writer described the paintings as “full of little cubes.” Kahnweiler, who established his gallery in Paris in 1907, became the primary champion of the new art form, representing all of its major artists. Though the principles behind Cubism were somewhat limiting and the movement was eventually abandoned—first by Picasso and then others—it had a radical effect on the course of Modern art.

Cubism was based on the theory that illusionistic perspective, foreshortening, and naturalism—conventions of representation established in the Renaissance—did not accurately represent the act of looking, which is experienced in three-dimensional space. To create an art that would more closely represent the mind’s eye, Picasso and Braque developed a system of analyzing three-dimensional objects and breaking them into geometric planes arranged on a two-dimensional surface using multiple vantage points. Recognizable symbols and features help the viewer coalesce the flattened image into a whole; a sense of depth is created through variations of line and shading. The artists involved in Cubism limited their palette in order to focus attention on the rigorous forms they developed. This early phase is often referred to as Analytic Cubism. Later, collaged elements appear in the work, color became more dominant, and the subject less fragmented—this phase is labeled Synthetic Cubism.

A number of influences and circumstances came together around 1906 that led Picasso to abandon his Rose Period/Saltimbanque work. Inspired by Cézanne’s analytical landscapes and Gauguin’s focus on raw forms, Picasso wanted to find a new mode of representation that would break away from Western conventions. He began to bring elements from African and Oceanic sculpture, as well as pre-historic Iberian sculpture, into his work.

Picasso’s friendship with Georges Braque was formed in the fall of 1907. The poet Guillaume Apollinaire, a mutual friend, brought Braque to Picasso’s studio to see the Spaniard’s ground-breaking canvas Les Demoiselles d’Avignon (1907, Museum of Modern Art). Picasso had fully realized his vision of an art informed by pre-modern culture in this painting, which he had completed in the summer of the same year. Previously, Braque had been involved with the Fauvist movement led by Matisse, but he immediately understood the significance of Picasso’s direction and recognized an affinity with his own concerns. The two artists were nearly inseparable thereafter as they feverishly developed the principles behind Cubism. Their alliance continued until Braque entered military service for World War I in August of 1914.

Though not commercially successful at the time, printmaking played a significant role in the developing movement, and some historians feel that the linear and tonal limitations of printmaking provided a more rigorous approach to the style.* Picasso purchased his first press in 1907 and he found printmaking to be a ready format in which to develop his rapidly developing ideas. He created a handful of self-printed experimental prints from 1907-1909 that reveal his developing interests. In 1910, Kahnweiler asked Picasso to provide illustrations for a deluxe book edition of the poem Saint Matorel by Max Jacob, a close friend of the artist. The resulting four etchings (Bloch 19 – Bloch 22), particularly La Table (Bloch 20) demonstrate a major leap in the Cubist lexicon in the depiction of space. In the summer of 1911, Picasso and Braque left for Céret, a village in the foothills of the Pyrénées in the south of France, where they created a handful of important Cubist prints together including their seminal drypoints Fox (Braque) and Nature morte. Bouteille (Picasso, Bloch 24). These prints are quite similar in subject and style, and the compositions can be difficult to differentiate upon first glance. They were published in editions of one hundred by Kahnweiler in 1912 but—like the dealer’s previous Cubist publications—were met with little commercial success. As a result, several plates by both artists went unpublished for several decades.

After Braque left to fight in World War I, Picasso briefly continued to work in the Cubist style, however, found it difficult to work consistently during the chaos and poverty of the war years. His printmaking activity dwindled considerably, as copper was a particularly expensive commodity. In addition, the two dealers who had supported his work were both forced to suspend business in the war years. On a personal level, he was deeply affected and shocked at the untimely death of his long-term lover Eva Gouel in 1915. A few years later, in 1917, Picasso found a new direction when a commission brought him to Italy, where he became enthralled with classical sculpture and met his first wife, ballerina Olga Khokhlova. By the early 1920s Picasso had fully abandoned Cubism, turning instead to themes inspired by Classical Greek and Roman art and mythology.

*For full discussion, see Donna Stein and Burr Wallen, The Cubist Print. Santa Barbara: University Art Museum, University of California, Santa Barbara, 1981.

Cubism, a movement founded by Picasso and his close friend Georges Braque in 1907, was a radical breakthrough in art that undermined nearly five centuries of tradition. The term was coined in a critic’s disparaging review of Braque’s 1908 exhibition at Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler’s gallery, in which the writer described the paintings as “full of little cubes.” Kahnweiler, who established his gallery in Paris in 1907, became the primary champion of the new art form, representing all of its major artists. Though the principles behind Cubism were somewhat limiting and the movement was eventually abandoned—first by Picasso and then others—it had a radical effect on the course of Modern art.

Cubism was based on the theory that illusionistic perspective, foreshortening, and naturalism—conventions of representation established in the Renaissance—did not accurately represent the act of looking, which is experienced in three-dimensional space. To create an art that would more closely represent the mind’s eye, Picasso and Braque developed a system of analyzing three-dimensional objects and breaking them into geometric planes arranged on a two-dimensional surface using multiple vantage points. Recognizable symbols and features help the viewer coalesce the flattened image into a whole; a sense of depth is created through variations of line and shading. The artists involved in Cubism limited their palette in order to focus attention on the rigorous forms they developed. This early phase is often referred to as Analytic Cubism. Later, collaged elements appear in the work, color became more dominant, and the subject less fragmented—this phase is labeled Synthetic Cubism.

A number of influences and circumstances came together around 1906 that led Picasso to abandon his Rose Period/Saltimbanque work. Inspired by Cézanne’s analytical landscapes and Gauguin’s focus on raw forms, Picasso wanted to find a new mode of representation that would break away from Western conventions. He began to bring elements from African and Oceanic sculpture, as well as pre-historic Iberian sculpture, into his work.

Picasso’s friendship with Georges Braque was formed in the fall of 1907. The poet Guillaume Apollinaire, a mutual friend, brought Braque to Picasso’s studio to see the Spaniard’s ground-breaking canvas Les Demoiselles d’Avignon (1907, Museum of Modern Art). Picasso had fully realized his vision of an art informed by pre-modern culture in this painting, which he had completed in the summer of the same year. Previously, Braque had been involved with the Fauvist movement led by Matisse, but he immediately understood the significance of Picasso’s direction and recognized an affinity with his own concerns. The two artists were nearly inseparable thereafter as they feverishly developed the principles behind Cubism. Their alliance continued until Braque entered military service for World War I in August of 1914.

Though not commercially successful at the time, printmaking played a significant role in the developing movement, and some historians feel that the linear and tonal limitations of printmaking provided a more rigorous approach to the style.* Picasso purchased his first press in 1907 and he found printmaking to be a ready format in which to develop his rapidly developing ideas. He created a handful of self-printed experimental prints from 1907-1909 that reveal his developing interests. In 1910, Kahnweiler asked Picasso to provide illustrations for a deluxe book edition of the poem Saint Matorel by Max Jacob, a close friend of the artist. The resulting four etchings (Bloch 19 – Bloch 22), particularly La Table (Bloch 20) demonstrate a major leap in the Cubist lexicon in the depiction of space. In the summer of 1911, Picasso and Braque left for Céret, a village in the foothills of the Pyrénées in the south of France, where they created a handful of important Cubist prints together including their seminal drypoints Fox (Braque) and Nature morte. Bouteille (Picasso, Bloch 24). These prints are quite similar in subject and style, and the compositions can be difficult to differentiate upon first glance. They were published in editions of one hundred by Kahnweiler in 1912 but—like the dealer’s previous Cubist publications—were met with little commercial success. As a result, several plates by both artists went unpublished for several decades.

After Braque left to fight in World War I, Picasso briefly continued to work in the Cubist style, however, found it difficult to work consistently during the chaos and poverty of the war years. His printmaking activity dwindled considerably, as copper was a particularly expensive commodity. In addition, the two dealers who had supported his work were both forced to suspend business in the war years. On a personal level, he was deeply affected and shocked at the untimely death of his long-term lover Eva Gouel in 1915. A few years later, in 1917, Picasso found a new direction when a commission brought him to Italy, where he became enthralled with classical sculpture and met his first wife, ballerina Olga Khokhlova. By the early 1920s Picasso had fully abandoned Cubism, turning instead to themes inspired by Classical Greek and Roman art and mythology.

*For full discussion, see Donna Stein and Burr Wallen, The Cubist Print. Santa Barbara: University Art Museum, University of California, Santa Barbara, 1981.

In 1927, Picasso—who was in his mid-forties, married, and had a young son—began a clandestine affair with Marie-Thérèse Walter, a young woman of only seventeen. Picasso was drawn to Walter upon first sight, brashly introducing himself to the girl as she emerged from the Métro. He proposed that he paint her portrait; shortly thereafter she came to the studio and their intense relationship began. The artist was drawn to Walter’s flaxen hair, strong sculptural features, and voluptuous and sturdy build (skating, boating, cycling and swimming were some of her favorite pastimes). She quickly became his primary muse—her distinctive features appear in countless works over the next decade. Their torrid and somewhat perverse affair had the effect of freeing Picasso from the analytical, abstracted forms of Cubism and Surrealism to the sensual, energetic, and exploratory figurative work that became his hallmark.

Over the following years, the two spent a great deal of time together. Most often they were in the studio—Marie-Thérèse usually passed the day reading or dozing while Picasso worked. Walter had few personal friends in Paris, as she had completed her studies abroad and met Picasso shortly thereafter. She lived in the suburbs with her mother and two sisters and had some family obligations but was otherwise at Picasso’s disposal. To explain her daily absence, she told her family that she had a job in the city.

Biographers often describe Marie-Thérèse as sweet, submissive, and affectionate. Her childlike innocence fueled Picasso’s desire and provided a stark contrast to his troubled family life. His wife, Olga Khokhlova—a former ballet dancer from Ukraine—suffered from anxiety, which led to frequent emotional outbursts. She was also extremely jealous and possessive. However, she maintained their bourgeois lifestyle and social status, a role that remained important to Picasso.

Picasso’s relationship with Marie- Thérèse, by contrast, was unfettered and wild. As revealed by Marie- Thérèse in interviews later in life,* Picasso psychologically and sexually dominated her. Yet she was happy to cater to the artist’s darker fantasies, later stating “a woman doesn’t resist Picasso.”

Over the ensuing eight years, Picasso kept their liaison a secret from family and friends. He enjoyed the challenge of keeping Marie-Thérèse accessible yet concealed and became more daring over time. After a few years, he installed his lover in an apartment across the street from his family home. The ruse continued until 1935, when his wife, learned that he not only had a mistress, but she was six months pregnant. She promptly left Picasso and took their son, Paulo.

Though he had brought this turn of events upon himself and had been unhappy in the marriage for years, Picasso was anguished over the loss of his respectability and his son. The ensuing legal battle was also contentious and difficult—finally, it was decided that they would not legally divorce and remained married, living separate lives, until Khokhlova died in 1954.

Picasso and Marie-Thérèse shared informal living arrangements for a time after their daughter, Maya, was born in September of 1935. Though Walter’s unassuming and yielding personality has provided a haven to him during his tempestuous marriage, her lack of intellectual curiosity and spirit became problematic once he was alone with her. A few months later, Picasso soon began a new affair with the accomplished and beautiful avant-garde photographer Dora Maar, who was his equal in drive, intellect, and passion. However, he continued to paint Marie-Thérèse into the 1940s and supported her financially throughout his life—he also paid visits to their daughter. Marie-Thérèse remained devoted to him throughout her life. Near his birthday in 1977, four years after Picasso’s death, Marie-Thérèse committed suicide.

* Discussed in detail in John Richardson A Life of Picasso: The Triumphant Years, 1917-1932, Volume 1, Knopf, New York, 2007/2010.

Around 1927, the famed dealer Ambroise Vollard commissioned a suite of one hundred prints from Picasso that have become known as the Suite Vollard, or the Vollard Suite. The artist worked on the etchings over a period of seven years, beginning in 1930. A large number of the images in the series refer to classical art and mythology, and in the later prints Picasso introduces the Minotaur, one of the more important themes in his work. Within the overall group of one hundred is a smaller set of forty-six prints that are referred to as the “Sculptor’s Studio” series. They depict a mature, bearded sculptor in his light-filled and tranquil studio contemplating or actively modeling his work, usually accompanied by a beautiful young model. The figures and sculptures are often adorned with headpieces and garlands of leaves or flowers, and the artwork is displayed on Greek columns. The style of these plates is clean, elegant, and linear; the figures appear to be in a tranquil and languorous state of mind. By contrast, the later “Minotaur” and “Blind Minotaur” prints in the suite are intensely emotional, symbolic, and deeply worked. Picasso’s skill as an etcher grew by leaps and bounds in the early 1930s, and he achieved a mastery of the medium that is evident in each image of the suite.

Picasso completed his work on the Suite Vollard in 1937 with four etchings of Vollard, his patron. Of the four, Vollard selected three to be included in the final publication. To borrow musical terms, these final images serve as a coda to the aforementioned movements of the suite. They also recall the tradition of acknowledging a benefactor or patron with a small dedication—a common practice for artists in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. All of them show Vollard from a similar angle with the same neutral expression, however, each is executed in a different style—the first two are aquatints, a technique that Picasso perfected in the mid-1930s, and the third is a line etching. Several stories have circulated about how these portraits came to be, including an anecdote in which Picasso suggested that he sketch a new portrait each time he saw Vollard.i However, recent scholarship shows that the pose in each of the plates closely resembles a photograph taken of Vollard in 1915 that Picasso likely used as a basis upon which to make his etched portraits.ii

The span of seven years during which Picasso worked on the Suite Vollard was marked by several major changes in Picasso’s life, and the psychological implications of these events are reflected in many of the images. His secret affair with Marie-Thérèse Walter, which began in 1927, intensified in the mid-1930s and her likeness began to appear in most of his work. She is the model and muse for many of the female figures in the Suite Vollard. Their carnal bliss is evident in the “Sculptor’s Studio” images, the majority of which were etched at the peak of their relationship in 1933 and 1934. This idyllic arrangement began to unravel in late 1934 when Marie-Thérèse told Picasso she was pregnant and his response to this news unfolds in the dramatic, surreal, and anguished “Blind Minotaur” prints of late 1934 and early 1935 (S.V. 94 - S.V.97). In the summer of 1935 Picasso’s wife, the Ukrainian ballerina Olga Khokhlova, learned of his affair and expected child—she promptly left him and took their son, Paulo. Though Picasso had been unhappy in the marriage for years due to Olga’s high-strung temperament, he was anguished over the loss of his respectability and his son. In response to this upheaval, he gave up painting, drawing and printmaking for a period, instead devoting his energies to writing Surrealist poetry.

Picasso and Marie-Thérèse shared informal living arrangements for a time after their daughter Maya was born in September of 1935. Though Walter’s unassuming and yielding personality had provided a haven to him during his tempestuous marriage, her docile nature and lack of intellectual curiosity became problematic once he found himself alone with her. As a result, Picasso began a new affair with the accomplished and beautiful avant-garde photographer Dora Maar in the spring of 1936. However, Picasso continued to see Marie-Thérèse and their young daughter on occasion. Maar, who was from an intellectual family, was a member of the artistic circles that Picasso frequented and was his equal in drive, intellect, and passion; they often collaborated or worked side by side late into the evening. Shortly after their relationship began, the Spanish Civil War broke out. Though he had lived in France for decades, Picasso still proudly considered himself a Spaniard and had a number of friends and family there—the conflict was a source of pain and agitation for him. Shortly after he created the final portrait plates for the Suite Vollard in the spring of 1937, German and Italian planes bombed the town of Guernica, prompting Picasso’s masterwork of the same title, created in May and June of the same year.

The early 1930s were an extremely fertile and fortuitous period for Picasso’s printmaking. He developed a close relationship with the exceptionally skilled intaglio printer Roger Lacourière at this time (the precise year is a matter of debate), whose advice on technical matters had an immense impact on the artist’s development as an etcher. Lacourière influence is evident in the Suite Vollard, with a number of plates demonstrating exceptional skill with advanced intaglio processes. Around this time, Picasso began to mark each of his plates with the day, month, and year of its completion—a practice that continued throughout his career (albeit somewhat inconsistently) and has allowed scholars to better understand his working process. The Suite Vollard also demonstrates his astonishingly prodigious output—at times he created up to four plates in a single day. As he worked on the Suite Vollard, Picasso simultaneously created a number of other prints and suites, including Le Chef d’Oeuvre Inconnu, Les Métamorphoses, Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon, and his master intaglio plate La Minotauromachie (Bloch 288)—indeed, this intense period deepened his commitment to intaglio printmaking and it became an important aspect of his work from this point on.

The story of the publication of the Suite Vollard is complicated and marked by unforeseen setbacks. After the plates were completed in 1937, Vollard commissioned a special run of paper from the Montval paper factory for the edition (this paper was used for the Suite Vollard as well as a number of other later editions due to wartime paper shortages). Vollard then commissioned Lacourière to print the edition in late 1938: three deluxe impressions on vellum (signed and numbered in red); fifty deluxe impressions with wide margins on Montval laid paper watermarked “Papeterie Montgolfier à Montval” (signed and numbered at the time); and 260 impressions with modest margins on Montval laid paper watermarked “Vollard” and “Picasso.” Unfortunately, Vollard died in a car accident shortly after the printing was complete in the summer of 1939 and he did not have a chance to publish them. The details of Vollard’s intentions for the Suite Vollard remain unknown, though scholars have recently uncovered records that suggest he may have wished to group them with poems by André Suarès.* The nature of Vollard’s original agreement with Picasso is also unclear, though recent scholarship on the matter suggests that Picasso took two paintings by Cézanne and Renoir in exchange for his efforts.iii As the Vollard estate was settled, the prints remained in storage throughout the war and beyond. In 1948, the dealer Henri Petiet purchased the entire edition from the estate and began to sell them. He also arranged for Picasso to sign some of the impressions that were printed on the smaller paper, though a number remained unsigned.

In 1956, Hans Bolliger published the first scholarly assessment of the prints in a publication titled “Picasso’s ‘Vollard Suite’”, assigning each of the plates a number and categorizing them into several distinct groups by subject: “Battle of Love,” “Rembrandt,” “The Sculptor’s Studio,” “The Minotaur,” “The Blind Minotaur,” “Portraits of Vollard,” and a “miscellaneous” category. His classification and order remains in use today and is referenced with the shorthand “Suite Vollard,” or “S.V.” followed by a plate number. Approximately a decade later, Georges Bloch established a chronological order for the etchings in his catalogue raisonné of Picasso’s prints. He was not concerned with Bolliger’s categorization in terms of subject, but rather wished to establish the order in which Picasso completed them—therefore, the order of the two systems conflicts on occasion. Bloch’s chronology was further refined in Brigitte Baer’s extensively researched catalogue raisonné of Picasso’s intaglio and relief prints that was published in 1996.

From the outset, scholars have struggled with the interpretation of the prints due to the complex relationships between the images. However, in 2000, art historian Lisa Florman convincingly argued that the free-flowing structure of the images was intentional, and that Picasso’s ideas behind the Suite were steeped in the history of etching and painting, of which he was fully versed and keenly aware.iv In fact, Picasso once said, “[When I work] I have a feeling that Delacroix, Giotto, Tintoretto, El Greco, and the rest, as well as all the modern painters, the good and the bad, the abstract and the non-abstract, are all standing behind me watching me …”v

In support of her argument, Florman points out that the web-like connections between the plates is similar to the tradition of the capriccio, a format first devised by the famed Mannerist printmaker Jacques Callot in his circa 1617 suite Capricci di Varie Figure, a set of loosely-related figure studies in which the artist demonstrated his skill with etching (a technique he perfected). She discusses several plates in which Picasso elaborates on a theme in the same manner as Callot. Florman also asserts that Picasso may have also had in mind Goya’s famous Los Caprichos suite of 1799, which was the last major attempt in the capriccio format before Picasso’s time. Goya’s suite established him as a master of sugarlift aquatint, and his skill had not been matched since. This was exactly the kind of challenge that fueled Picasso’s artistic output, and indeed, under the direction of Lacourière, Picasso challenged Goya’s skill in the technique during this time period. Additionally, Florman surmises that Picasso may have been inspired by the epic poetry of Ovid’s Les Métamorphoses, for which he had just completed a suite of thirty prints published by Alfred Skira in 1931. (The poem is comprised of nearly 250 myths from both Greek and Roman mythology that, though unrelated, are ingeniously woven together through the sheer storytelling talent of its author.) Finally, Florman suggests that the entire suite is an elaboration on Rembrandt’s famous print The Artist and His Model, ca. 1639. As she notes, Picasso viewed making art as an inherently passionate endeavor akin to making lovevi and found a similar sentiment in the Dutch master’s work. Like the Suite Vollard, Rembrandt’s The Artist and His Model has long been interpreted as an exploration of the Pygmalion myth (which, incidentally, appears in Ovid’s Metamorphoses), in which the sculptor falls in love with his own work of art that later comes to life. In conclusion, Florman posits the Suite Vollard is a grand statement on the creation of art and the role of passion in fueling its creation.

Though there have been many interpretations of the overall themes and ideas behind the Suite Vollard, it is universally agreed that it is among the greatest achievements in art. Each plate stands on its own as an accomplished example of intaglio printmaking, whether it is a simple line drawing or a complex and dense composition of overlapping line and pattern. Its variety and complexity allows for various entry points of evaluation and appreciation, and the variety of themes amongst the images plays an important role in the deep fascination the suite inspires amongst all who admire Picasso’s work.

i Johnson, Ambroise Vollard, Editeur: Prints, Books, Bronzes, Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1977, 39.
ii See Miller “Catalogue,” in Rabinow, ed. in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Avant-Garde, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, 391, no. 158.
iii Tinterow, “Vollard and Picasso” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Avant-Garde, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, 113.
iv In Myth and Metamorphosis: Picasso’s Classical Prints of the 1930s. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2000, 70-138.
v Parmelin, Picasso Says. A.S. Barnes, South Brunswick [N.J.], 1969, 40.
vi Ibid., 117.
*For further discussion, see Wye, A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, 174 (note 17); Tinterow, “Vollard and Picasso” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Avant-Garde, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, 113-4; and Rabinow,

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.

In 1931, Ambroise Vollard had suggested that Picasso illustrate Histoire Naturelle, générale et particulière by Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707-88), originally published in forty-four volumes between 1745 and 1804. Buffon’s timeless treatise on the animal world “though scientifically out of date, remains nevertheless a well-known monument of eighteenth-century French literature for its lively style, both classical and innovative” (Brigitte Baer in Picasso the Printmaker: Graphics from the Marina Picasso Collection, Dallas Museum of Art, 1983, p. 102). Picasso, who was an animal lover, agreed. However, as was his custom he took his own time turning his attentions to this project, and once he did, approached it in his own way.

Much later, in early 1936, Picasso was spending nearly every day in Lacourière’s intaglio workshop, presumably to escape his troubles. He had recently gone through a difficult year in which his mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter had borne a daughter, prompting his marriage to Olga Khokhlova to dissolve under difficult circumstances. After renouncing painting for a period, he returned to art through prints, finding solace in the professional atmosphere and collegiality of Lacourière’s print studio. For unknown reasons, he was suddenly inspired to work on this long-delayed project. Baer surmises that he found the subject of animals to be a respite from the emotional turmoil of his life (ibid, p. 102). Museum of Modern Art curator Deborah Wye, however, imagines Picasso may have been interested in providing amusing images for the pleasure of his baby daughter Maya (A Picasso Portfolio: Prints from the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2010, p. 87). At any rate, the thirty-two etchings for the Histoire Naturelle were primarily created in February of 1936.

Vollard, who was traveling in Rome at the time, was delighted with this turn of events. He sent a postcard of Romulus and Remus to the artist and wrote, “Dear Mr. Picasso, the other side shows a magnificent animal that is not in our collection but deserves to be, except that in the last century someone added the two children, who do not strike me as entirely necessary. I’ve told those who love you here that you were reviving Buffon and they can’t wait to see the book…” (as quoted by Gary Tinterow in “Vollard and Picasso,” in Cézanne to Picasso: Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Arts. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2006, p. 113). In the end, the wolf was included in Picasso’s bestiary—perhaps inspired by this correspondence from his friend.

By necessity, Picasso did not illustrate every animal in the book. He also did not refer to Buffon’s test at all, instead choosing animals that caught his fancy and illustrating them according to his own ideas. He worked primarily in sugar-lift aquatint, which he had perfected over the previous two years (the technique first appears in a plate from January 1934, Femme nue assise et trios têtes barbues, Bloch 216).

When Ambroise Vollard died in a car accident in 1939, the book had not yet been published but ten of the plates had been printed in a run of forty-seven proofs. Martin Fabiani—a dealer whom had befriended Vollard and became involved in the settlement of his estate—purchased a number of paintings and unpublished book projects from the family, including the Histoire Naturelle prints. He asked Lacourière to edition them in 1942 and the book was published later that year. Due to wartime paper shortages, Lacourière used the paper that had been produced for the Suite Vollard, which existed in surplus.

The process by which text was selected to accompany Picasso’s images is unclear—it may have been done by Vollard before his death, or it may have been Fabiani. In any case, they are not complete. Of the thirty-one etchings that were included in the final book, only twenty-one include appropriate excerpts from Buffon’s text. Incongruously, Fabiani did not include Picasso’s plate for La Puce (The Flea). The official reason was because Buffon did not write about the insect, but perhaps the real motivation was because he found the subject itself and Picasso’s portrayal of it to be undesirable. (It shows a nude young woman resembling Marie-Thérèse from behind with the parasite on her buttocks.) Therefore, this image was only included in the deluxe suite that was issued with the first thirty-six copies of the book (the total edition was 226). Picasso had also given titles to each of his plates, which he wrote in drypoint below, but these were not included in the book edition. They do appear, however, in the deluxe suite.

In spite of the failings of the accompanying text, the thirty-two animals Picasso depicted in his plates for Eaux-fortes originals pour les texts de Buffon remain among the highest level of achievement in the sugar-lift aquatint technique in the history of printmaking. Perhaps equally important, “there is great charm in these beasts: among them is a comical ostrich speeding by, a friendly monkey holding out a paw, a ram posing with great daintiness, and a cat that seems almost to purr” (Wye , p. 87). They have captivated and delighted everyone who sees them since they were published, possibly more so at the time of their release in 1942, as the world was at war and was in desperate need of light diversion.