In the end, Picasso just sold his signature and cared only about money. He couldn't suppress his greed. Can't tell if the last lines are intended as ironic, but life is indisputably the one thing any art worth one's attention will be depicting in its starkest character--with zero glosses. Great artists are extremely rare.
As to the second one, life's essence is war. The best one can do is try to keep as out of it as possible--easier said than done I'm afraid. Recluses, people who cut themselves off from society, manage to avoid to some degree the external part of the neverending warfare. Inner strife and torment they can't escape however: Huit Clos--if its intensity is sufficiently strong anyway.
In the end, Picasso just sold his signature and cared only about money. He couldn't suppress his greed. Can't tell if the last lines are intended as ironic, but life is indisputably the one thing any art worth one's attention will be depicting in its starkest character--with zero glosses. Great artists are extremely rare.
As to the second one, life's essence is war. The best one can do is try to keep as out of it as possible--easier said than done I'm afraid. Recluses, people who cut themselves off from society, manage to avoid to some degree the external part of the neverending warfare. Inner strife and torment they can't escape however: Huit Clos--if its intensity is sufficiently strong anyway.