So there was a little card underneath one. It explained that these were reproductions. That Picasso made them for a film, and destroyed them after it was finished filming because he wanted these specific paintings to exist in that film only. Ever. I was suddenly filled with so much rage that I wanted to puke. I wanted to cry. I was so fucking moved it wasn't funny. How awful- this artist's wish was for these paintings to exist inside someone else's art only. That's it. That's how he wanted them. He didn't want real copies and some untalented asshole who wanted to leech off of someone else's success hunted down this obscure film and watched it a billion times just so he could recreate something that the original artist wanted dead? What a loser and a dumbfuck. I know that it's not that bad but in Abby FlybyNight, that play I did about the crazy artist, she has this line about destroying art. It's like, something about how maybe the best art is for a moment and then destroyed- it's beautiful, rare and original because hardly anyone sees it. Maybe Picasso wanted that, too, and now some ass has disobeyed specific instructions because he wants people to ... see what? How good a copycat he is?
It pissed me off.