A Picasso story with a twist

THE other day, I watched a television programme on interiors in which the owner of a palatial house drooled over his expensive Picasso original.

As the programme came to an end, it occurred to me that I, too, had a Picasso story to tell. Only, my house is not palatial and my Picassos are not original.

Nonetheless, the story behind my Picasso collection is worth narrating. A few years ago, I visited Rome on an assignment. The evenings were free, spent ambling around the touristy spots.

Shopping wasn’t much of a priority, given my limited budget. But I was told by a friend who lived there that one could stumble upon interesting European art pieces in shops. I didn’t mind picking up a thing or two, provided they were affordable.

Around St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, a nice relief work of ‘The Last Supper’ caught my eye; I couldn’t resist buying it. Some art galleries displayed many beautiful paintings by the great masters, but they were prohibitively expensive.

One evening, I strolled into a bookshop. After some quick browsing, I stopped in front of a rotating stand that displayed assorted stuff such as bookmarks, postcards, pens and sundry items. While flipping through the postcards, one set caught my attention. Needless to say, they all featured paintings by Picasso. I picked up the one and only set of 25 postcards, paid for it and walked away. It struck me right then that even if I could not afford a Picasso original, I could make a collage of those postcards and create something of my own. Instead of just one Picasso piece, here I had 25 of his best works in miniature, including his most famous one, ‘Guernica’, a 1937 oil painting that depicts the tragedy and horror of war. Back home, my wife and I picked some 20 of the cards, arranged them in a random collage and got it framed. The frame took pride of place in the living room.

My own Picasso frame never fails to fascinate visitors, especially first-timers, eliciting queries as to whether it’s an abstract and what we paid for it, while some knowledgeable ones instantly recognise cubism as Picasso’s style.

In short, a spark of creativity, which arose chiefly out of a lack of resources for decoration after all our funds were poured into the purchase of the apartment, unwittingly turned out into a conversation piece.

For the past more than a decade, the collage has hung on my living room wall, evoking considerable interest. But do I stand a chance of being featured in a TV programme on interiors? That’s unlikely.