8th January 2026
Visiting the Picasso Museum in Paris a few years ago was the first time that I’d paid the artist much real thought. While the some 5000 works was a undoubtedly impressive feet to young eyes, he was the sort of artist that everyone already and thought was brilliant, and therefore not one that I would grant my time to.
Further, I was struck with the age old question: is it possible to separate the art from the artist? A question that was too much to comprehend, one that had too many answers from too many people and one that to this day I’ve always shied from answering.
And when I saw that Tate Modern had a Picasso show I was faced once again with this question. Should I spend my money going to see a show of a man who is so widely famed yet caused such pain to his family and appropriated other cultures as his own innovation.
I realised that it was impossible to pass judgement until I’d seen it.
I was interested in how they’d presented Picasso.
Named Theatre Picasso the exhibition promised innovations in exhibition staging and curation. Use of a grey theatre curtain to split the exhibition into two, half stage, half viewing area where audiences can act as both performer and spectator felt like a crude play on Picasso’s themes and was reflected poorly in the writing and choice of work.
One of those exhibitions where an overarching theme is strained from a collection. These exhibitions seem to happen all too often at Tate. You think why does this exhibition exist? Who does it serve?
they have tried to squash Picasso through the familiar conveyor belt of making an exhibition an “immersive experience” but without any feeling
Should a curator moralise an artist?
There isn’t even an argument posed in ‘Theatre Picasso’, just vague statements that seem designed to make you – or Tate, more likely – acknowledge guilt for an undisclosed crime.
empty words
this guardian review does not talk abuot the exhibition, only the work