CHAPTER 23

Things were starting to come apart. Perhaps life in Paris was never meant to go on without mishap; without end. It started with small changes. By the end of the next year people would be leaving Paris for good. It started with a trickle...then a stream...then a flood...

I painted daily. Sales were brisk and dealers came to visit. One day, Picasso arrived.
"What a pleasant surprise!" I said, inviting him in.
"I have come to see how you're progressing," he announced, "and I have come to help you."
"Help me? How?"
"I want to introduce you to Kahnweiler. He's a dealer friend of mine. With him you will sell more paintings."

Stunned by the Thought of Kahnweiler's Help

I was stunned. "But Kahnweiler doesn't take on new artists. I have only a small portfolio," I protested.
"It will grow with a good agent. You will paint and he will sell. You will become rich."

Then he announced:"I have come here to help you find a new studio. This place is no longer for you. We will visit Man Ray, the painter photographer. Now that you are famous, he will photograph you. He has a marvellous studio on the rue Campaigne Premeière, next to the Hotel Istria. We will find you space in that building. There is good light."
"But, I protested. You told me once that light changes and that you only paint at night."

"But the studio is not for me. It is for you," he said laughing. His black eyes were wide open and consuming. How could I say no to Pablo? I didn't.

Walking with Pablo at a Fast Pace

We walked together at a fast pace. Pablo was a small, determined man. Life was a game. He played it well and enjoyed the challenge. He smoked and talked. How he talked!

"I'm puzzled. Why are you doing all this for me?"

Picasso puffed on his cigarette and lit a new one from the old butt.

"Roberto, my friend," he started, "I have many reasons. First of all, I like you. You remind me of myself when I was younger and searching for a place in the world. Secondly, you compliment me by gravitating to my style. I liked the painting you gave Gertrude. Then there's Gertrude herself. I don't know where I would have been had I not met Gertrude in those early years. She was very good for me. She used to come to pose for me and bring me the American comics. I liked that. It was a very important time in my life. We talked.

"She showed me many things about space and about shape and about Cezanne. Yes, I am doing this for Gertrude. She asked me to help you. I cannot say no to her. I gave her the portrait I did because at the time it was worth little to me and much to her. I think she has begun to look like the painting."

Picasso Doesn't Mind the Copy

"Does it still bother you that she had a copy made?" I interrupted.
"Not at all," he smiled. "At first I guess I was a little jealous of Vorobiev. She is a better copyist than I thought. Her work is first class. No. If Gertrude is happy, then Pablo is happy."
"Well. I appreciate your help."
We arrived at the Istria Hotel.
"Aha," from Pablo. "We are here."

We stopped in front of the small hotel.

"This is a very important place," Picasso explained. "Many important artists Satie lived here for a while. So did Marcel Duchamp. That's how Man Ray found it. He lived here with Kiki, his model before he moved next door. Look at that building. Is it not beautiful?"

I stepped off the sidewalk and looked up at the twin buildings next door. They were made of brown stones that looked like tiles. The high windows were clues to the purpose of the place. They would carry the much need light for painters. There was even a small park across the road at the corner of the boul Raspail. This, too, was a plus, as it meant the studios looked out on trees.

"It's marvelous!" I exclaimed. "Do you think there are vacancies?"
"No. The best and last studio was taken yesterday." Picasso paused, then smiled. "I came to see Man Ray. He and I rented it on your behalf. Look. Second floor. The light is perfect."
"But I never met Man Ray," I protested.
"You will, Roberto, my friend. He is waiting for us now."

Man Ray Always Looked Sad

Man Ray opened the door of his studio. He had a sad air about him which I got used to. Man Ray always looked sad.

"Come in. I am in the middle of a session. I will be only a minute."

I was pleased to hear New York English. I thought Man Ray was Russian or Rumanian. But I didn't dwell on the thought when I entered the studio to a most incredible site. A model was standing at the window with one hand on the frame and the other on her hip. She had her back to the street and she wore a sheer negligee.

The sunlight on her magnificent body created a picture I will never forget. Man Ray had put this beautiful figure against the light. He knew in advance what image would be created. Man Ray was a master photographer and his model was almost as famous. Her name was Kiki. They called her Kiki of Montparnasse.

Becoming Friends with Kthe Beautiful Kiki

We became friends for the time I lived there. She was the most famous and best loved figures of Montparnasse. Her beauty and gaiety and provocations were well known. Better known was the fact that she was kind and good hearted. I know she was always kind to me. There were always people around her. She was the center of laughing people wherever she went. Her improbable stories were witty and tantalizing. She was unusual and unpredictable. She never hesitated to use her sexuality to help others. She would collect money for a friend in need by lifting her blouse in a bar and showing her breasts.

"There," she would say," that will cost you two francs."

She was by no means physically perfect but Man Ray knew how to capture her special sensuality. He made her more famous with his pictures of her.

Man Ray was also at the center of activity. He had started photographing famous personalities or accepting fashion commissions. Every writer or artist and every well-connected tourist made his studio a compulsory stop on their travels. He specialized in fashion photography and was featured in all the leading magazines. He rubbed shoulders with all the important people and had countless stories to tell of them all.
That evening, at a cafe, the four of us got better acquainted.

I found it a little disconcerting to be seated drinking something and having people stop on the sidewalk to point out Kiki, Picasso and Man Ray. I doubt if anyone recognized me. I was a midget seated among giants.

Man Wants to Photograph Me Before I Become Too Famous

"I'd like to photograph you before you become too famous," Man said to me.
"I'm flattered," I replied. "My mother won't believe you took my picture."
"What is your mother's name?" he asked.
"Ruth," I replied.
"Then I'll sign it, 'to Ruth'. " And he did.

I still have the original photograph he gave me. It is framed next to a copy of the most exciting picture Man Ray ever created, as I see it. It was a surrealist image of Kiki called Le Violin d'Ingres. You no doubt know which picture I'm talking about.

We remained friends during my last years in Paris. As a matter of fact it was Man Ray who, with Kissling, drove me to the boat train when I finally left Paris for good.

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