Natasha Wood

AP Art History: Damian

April 2013

Picasso’s Guernica

Though Picasso’s masterpiece, Guernica, is filled with dichotomies, one stands

out, and that is the tension between the masculine and feminine forces in the piece.

The bull, a dominant male figure, shares the spotlight with the more feminine horse,

and several other female figures. The sexual divide in Guernica is highlighted not

only by the powerful masculinity of the bull and the feminine struggle of the horse,

but also by the formal elements, the other victimized female figures, the light bulb,

and the lamp. Guernica, however, is not just an image of male-female struggles, and

not all art historians agree with the sexual polarization of the piece. Interpretations

include Arnheim’s theory of the bull as Spain’s own salvation, Wischnitzer’s theory

of the bull as the tamed, retreating symbol of negative Spanish tradition, and Boeck’s

interpretation of the bull as the supportive continuity of the Spanish nation. These

three theories, however, ignore the overwhelming feminine and masculine

symbolism, namely the tension between the female horse and the masculine bull.

The two theories that support the sexual polarization of Guernica are Bernadac’s

theory of the dichotomies of Guernica, and Larrea’s theory of the tension between

the horse and the bull. Ultimately, the harsh male imagery of Guernica suggests the

male-dominated world of Franco’s fight for fascism. On the other hand, Picasso’s

depiction of the victimized female form suggests the slaughtering of humanity.

Most art historians classify Guernica as falling into Picasso’s Surrealist

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period. Post 1927, Picasso’s affiliation with surrealist poet Paul Eluard, the German

painter Max Ernst, and his compatriot Joan Miró, among others, found Picasso in the

Surrealist mentality of 1940’s Paris.(3) Arguably, however, Picasso was less

influenced by the artists surrounding him and more by the larger ideas of

surrealism. Born out of early 20th century Dadaism, the Surrealist notion of

absurdity, especially in conjunction with World War I, captivated Picasso and

dominated his later paintings, especially his later masterpiece, Guernica. The

Parisian Surrealist movement found Picasso in his 50s in Paris in the midst of

different relationships. Though he was married to Olga Khokhlova in 1918, by the

40’s they were very much separated, as Picasso refused to give half his wealth to her

upon a divorce. His personal life was complicated even more with the death of

Khokhlova in 1955 and several other relationships before then, most importantly

his secret affair with Marie-Therese Walter and later an affair with photographer

and artist Dora Maar. In addition to keeping other mistresses besides Walter and

Maar, Picasso had four children from three different women.(11) Though he found

companionship through Walter and Maar, Picasso was constantly involved in

complications in his private life, and many art historians suggest that his depictions

of masculinity and femininity are reflections of his own affairs and struggles.

Though the surrealist movement was born through the tortured

images of World War I, the notion of the absurd war came all too close to home for

Picasso on April 26th, 1937. Though it was denied repeatedly, by the early 40’s Hitler

and Franco had made communications to the effect of expanding Hitler’s communist

regime into Franco’s fight for fascism in Spain. The plan to test newly pioneered

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aviation bombs benefited both Franco and Hitler, and the unannounced German

military presence in Spain became known as the Condor Legion. (6) The bombing of

the town of Guernica, Spain, strategically planned to suppress the Basque

Republican uprisings, was led by the Lieutenant Colonel Wolfram von Richthofen,

who parked his Mercedes on a nearby mountain as bombs rained on the small

coastal town of Guernica for four hours. Under the command of von Richthofen were

“fifty aircraft, 120 airmen, many thousands of pounds of percussion, projectile, and

incendiary bombs, and countless rounds of ammunition.” (6). From below, the

bombing took place on market day, and the targeted train station and marketplace

were filled with people. Eye-witness accounts, some published in international

newspapers short after, brought evidence to the horrors.

“Suddenly I saw a plane in the sky and I thought it must be a

Communist plane. I watched it pass over… suddenly there were fifteen or

twenty planes and they appeared to be coming at me. I started to run home

into town [and] all those planes started dropping bombs. It was a disaster. A

disaster… Then I began to meet many women as I ran towards my house.

They were coming out of town toward me and they were running very fast.”

(6)

Bernardo was eight when he experienced the bombing, and his account of the

women running out of town depicts the horror that the village people experienced.

Perhaps even more awful is Miren Gomeza’s account; “from the ground I saw a

woman I knew, a neighbor, stand up and shout into the sky, ‘You bastards, there are

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innocent people down here.’ A plane dove toward her, and I could see the pilot, his

face. And I’ll never forget his horrible goggles. Tat, tat, tat, tat. He killed her with his

machine gun.” (6) News of the bombings reached Paris on the evening of the 27th in

the journal Ce Soir, and on the 28th of April it was headline news in l’Humanité. On

May 1, after the largest public protest in the history of Paris, Picasso completed his

first sketch for what would become the Spanish centerpiece for the Paris World

Exhibition of 1937. Though he had accepted the commission in January, his

inspiration come after the fated April day, and by May 11 Picasso had completed 45

sketches on the characters of his newest canvas. (8) By early June, Picasso had

finished the seventh and final stage of the painting he called Guernica, a massive

mural 11 feet, 6 inches, by 25 feet, 8 inches (3). An enormity, the canvas is entirely

black and white. Its title, however, may be misleading; Picasso said himself that he

did not know what a bombed town looked like. (7) Guernica, however, is by no

means a physical portrait of that day. Filled with the distorted shapes of synthetic

cubism, animals with human-like features, and exaggerated human parts, Guernica

is more accurately a portrait of the pain of martyred women and children and the

male-dominated forces that caused it.

The formal elements of the piece only accentuate the multiple divides,

including the sexual divide. As mentioned, Guernica did not occur at night, however

the background of the action is very dark. The main figures from left to right are a

bull, a grieving mother, a baby, a dead soldier, a horse, a light bulb, a kerosene lamp,

a female light-bearer, a woman fugitive, and a falling woman. Many dichotomies

have also been suggested within the painting, namely good versus evil, light versus

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dark, war versus peace, Fascism versus Republicanism, life versus death, and of

course masculinity versus femininity. These central figures are painted in varying

levels of dark and light, and Rudolf Arnheim argues in The Genesis of Painting that

the monochrome unites the paintings dichotomous elements together in the theory

that everything is a symbol of Spain and united suffering. (1) This approach,

however, ignores the tense political climate of the time, and the intense conflicts of

the Spanish civil war that point towards clear divisions in Guernica. Marie

Bernadac’s interpretation, on the other hand, suggests that the light and the dark, as

well as the other dichotomies, are metaphorical for the two warring sides of Spain,

and the chaos that such conflict creates. (9) Within the context of the time,

Bernadac’s theory makes more sense. Indeed, the painting is highly chaotic; several

large color planes, accredited to synthetic cubism, fill the space, most notably in the

upper middle-right, where the shape of the background building intersects with the

light coming from the lamp and the shawl of the light bearer. Picasso’s treatment of

the foreground figures also employs analytical cubism, thus the making the central

part of Guernica confusing and dense. The chaos of the foreground, however, is

framed by a compositional triangle. This triangle is formed in part by the light

emitted from the lamp on the right and in part by the edge of the table in the back

left, and these diagonals draw the eye from the top of the piece to the bottom

corners. (4) Though Arnheim’s theory on the Spanish unity that the formal elements

creates is perhaps questionable, what certainly rings true is his observation on the

shape of the canvas. Arnheim suggests that the long rectangular shape of the canvas

and the repeated forms and themes suggests that the monstrosities and divides of

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war and conflict are not confined to Spain, but are instead a universal phenomenon,

suffered by many. The stark contrast in the formal elements hints towards not only

the tensions of war but also perhaps towards the masculinity and the femininity of

Guernica.

The light bulb and the lamp in the top center of the piece act as further

clues to illuminating the sexual polarities of Guernica. The lamp is the smaller and

simpler of the two light sources, and yet it acts as a clear, far-reaching source of

light, illuminating the entire right side of the composition. In addition, in contrast to

the more modern light bulb, the lamp is a traditional, pre-modern object. Boeck and

Sabartés in their book Pablo Picasso suggest that the lamp is a symbol of victory,

and thus the victory of light overriding the cruelty of darkness. (3) This suggestion

however, is invalid based upon what the lamp is revealing below. Guernica is by no

means a depiction of victory, and thus the lamp’s illumination of this war scene is

hardly a victory over cruelty. Instead, the lamp merely illuminates the evidence of

cruelty for all to see. Also significant is the bearer of the lamp, a large female form

apparently coming through a window. Wischnitzer interpreted this figure as an

allegory for Russia, one of the few nations that declared their support for Spain

during the war. (12). Wischnitzer’s interpretation is supported by the fact the this

woman’s head, like a great white comet, seems to be coming in from afar, carrying

aid for the victims of the war. Further evidence in support of this woman as an

allegory for Russia is in her hand right behind her head. The distorted form of her

five fingers debatably creates the shape of the USSR star. (12) Though perhaps the

allegory may be questionable, the figure of a woman exposing the carnage of the

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bombing is very real. The lamp she carries is a symbol of truth, and Hohl sees the

female figure holding the light as a reference to Bronzino’s Venus, Cupid, Folly, and

Time. (12) In Bronzino’s piece, the arm of time sweeps in from right to left, exposing

the surprising relationship between Venus and Cupid, perhaps suggesting that time

always runs out. Guernica is similar in that this light and the arm that supports it are

sweeping in, exposing an even more shocking truth. It is also noteworthy, however,

that the lamp only illuminates the right side of the painting, where four out of the

five female figures are located. If light can be associated with truth, then under this

light these female figures, including the horse, are victims, and their strained and

exaggerated forms support this.

The light bulb, in contrast to the lamp, is larger, emits less light, and

leaves the bull and the left composition largely in darkness. The light of truth

referenced by Hohl does not seem to cross to the left side of the painting. In contrast

to the illuminated victimization of the women, the darkness of the bull suggests that

he is not a victim at all, instead a perpetrator hiding from the light. Arnheim’s

interpretation of the light bulb stems from its technological modernity in contrast to

the lamp; he poses that in the bulb “is the symbol of detached ‘awareness,’ of a

world informed but not engaged. The apparent duplication of the light source

actually expresses a significant contrast between the true, small light… and the

powerful, blind instrument of a consciousness without a conscience.” (1) Arnheim’s

notion of “a world informed but not engaged” refers directly to the rest of the world

who, though informed of the Spanish Civil war and the atrocities of Guernica, were

doing relatively little to support the victims and the republican government. Art

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historian Gottlieb extends Arnheim’s reference specifically to France, Great Britain,

Germany, and Italy, all of whom signed a non-intervention pact in the Spanish Civil

war, thus refusing to give support. (11) These first world nations, represented by

the modernity of the light bulb, are seen as passive participators by Arnheim and

Gottlieb. This theory, however, is weak beyond simply the connection between the

technology of these first world nations and the technology of the lightbulb. Instead,

it is much more probable that the light bulb references directly the occurences of

April 1937. This harsh piece of technology seems to hover dangerously above the

scene, and may reference the technology use in the bombing of Guernica. Its form,

after all, does parallel that of a bomb exploding. Associated not only with the male

dominated bombing of Guernica and the bull on the left side of the composition, this

light bulb carries distinct male connotations, in relation to the much more feminine,

delicate lamp. On further connection between these lights and the sexual divides of

Guernica can be found the shape of these lights themselves. Undeniably, the light

bulb takes on the form of an eye. However, the eyes of the characters in Guernica do

not all parallel this eye – in fact, only the male characters (most notably the bull) do.

This connection further suggests the oppressive force of masculinity within

Guernica.

The female figures in Guernica make up the majority of the characters, and

are the driving force behind the female pain and suffering of the piece. On first

glance, it is notable that Picasso filled his composition with victimized women, and

not men. This is also a historically accurate detail; during the Spanish Civil war

many men left their towns to fight, leaving their wives and children behind. Thus,

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the majority of the victims of the Guernica bombing were women. (1) On a

metaphorical level, however, the image of women as the main victims of a male-

dominated air raid support the sexual divide of the piece. In addition, it is very

probable that Picasso would have viewed an attack on women as an attack on

humanity, thus making these figures powerful images of pathos. Arnheim correctly

states the symbolism of these women; they convert a depiction of one bombing on

one day into a universal metaphor for the attack on mankind. More specifically, in

her interpretation, Gottlieb sites the lower right fugitive as an allegory for Russia

reaching in to help Spain. (12). This view contrasts that of Wischnitzer, who

suggested the lamp bearer as the allegory to Russia. Gottlieb bases her argument

partly on the positioning of this female fugitive; her strides forward towards the

horse and the light source, and Gottlieb interprets this stance as an offering of

assistance to the ailing Spain. This interpretation, however, is flawed. This fugitive is

not offering assistance but rather stumbling forward towards the light, injured, and

shell shocked by the bombings. She does not reach out in aid, but rather reaches

back towards her own knee, which is most likely broken. The triangular form that

goes from the bottom of her knee up through the falling woman on the right hand

side accentuates her awful injury. Unlike other characters, she does not so much

scream in terror as mindlessly move forward, incomprehensive of her surroundings.

However, Gottlieb also argues that her stylized breasts suggest the hammer and

sickle emblem of the USSR flag. (12) This is also invalid, as her breasts look nothing

like this popular emblem. This figure, therefore, is not allegorical for Russia, but

instead another victim to the atrocities of war. The mother and child unit in the left

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of the piece also adds to the wrenching grief of Guernica, and has often been

paralleled to Michelangelo’s Pieta. This parallel certainly makes sense; if one

continues the metaphor, the pain of the Virgin Mary upon having her son sacrificed

is palpable in both versions. The son in her arms, therefore, may reference Jesus,

thus making the baby a sacrifice to the sins and cruelties of man. Larrea, however,

interprets the mother differently, suggesting that she is the motherhood of maternal

Spain protecting her sleeping baby. Larrea conjectures that the baby, without

wound markings, must be alive in order to suggest the hope of reestablishing the

Spanish nation. (5) This, however, is also a faulty interpretation, as there is nothing

what so ever that suggests hope in this mother-child unit. This woman, neck

extended, head thrown back, screaming, is the image of grief, not hope. In addition,

her grasp on her baby suggests its lifelessness, not its vitality. The sexual tensions of

Guernica `are also accentuated by the women’s partial nudity. Most notable are the

breasts of the fugitive, that look more like bolts and screws, and those of the light

bearer right behind her head, that also take on a sharp, distorted form. Breasts,

often the quintessential image of motherhood and care, are here distorted and

hardened, further suggesting the pain and suffering that these women alone endure.

Overall, the figures of these women perpetuate the notion of the victimized woman

in the hands of something powerful and dangerous.

The bull and the horse are, without a doubt, the protagonists of

Guernica, and their relationship in the piece proves the sexual divide of the work.

Wischnitzer, however, suggests that the bull is not a powerful force; instead, the

horse rises to drive out the tamed bull, representative of the negative traditions of

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Spain. (12) Wischnitzer sites the May 2nd study of Guernica, in which Pegusus, a

symbol for tameness, perches on top of the bull. Wischnitzer argues that while the

horse is a positive form, the bull is “devoid of sexual magic, tamed… [he] leaves – an

image of anger and defeat.” (166,12) This interpretation is flawed, most obviously

because the horse, stabbed many times and shrieking out, is falling down and dying,

not rising up hopefully. The second reason this interpretation is flawed is because

though the horse and the bull certainly do repel each other, the bull is not a “tamed”

figure “devoid of sexual magic.” On the contrary, the bull’s aggressive stance within

the frame suggests his masculine presence in the composition. A hidden symbol in

the left bottom of the piece is also illuminating; the outline of an arrow points from

the horse’s legs to the visible genitalia of the bull. This bull is certainly not a tame

figure as Wischnitzer suggests, rather he is very much a symbol for the powerful

masculine force of Fascism.

Larrea is very much in agreement with the sexual tensions of the piece, and

viewed Picasso’s choice to depict animals as a commentary on the animalistic nature

of humanity. (5) However, he also takes an opposite approach; Larrea suggests that

the bull is the Spanish nation and the horse is Franco’s fascism. In this manner, the

bull, disdainful of the dying nag of Fascism, turns away; this interpretation suggests

that Picasso’s motive is to show the downfall of Fascism and the rise of the Republic.

This interpretation, however, is flawed, most basically because the viewer clearly

sympathizes with the horse. This horse, in absolute agony, is speared through by a

javelin and has a huge gash on her back. (8) She falls to the ground slowly, neighing

desperately for help from the bull; and instead of being repulsed by her, (like the

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viewer might be repulsed by the image of Franco), the audience is instead drawn to

such an image of suffering. This horse can certainly not carry negative connotations.

The notion of the bull representing the Spanish people makes a bit more sense

because of the associations between the Iberian peninsula and the bull. Larrea, as

well as Boeck, infer that the bull is trying to protect the mother figure below him,

thus disagreeing with Wischnitzer.(3) In the work, however, the bull, shrouded in

darkness and grimacing away from the light, is not a positive symbol, contrary to

what Larrea suggests. Larrea’s other interpretation of the horse and the bull draws

not only on Picasso’s many affairs but also on his many heartbreaks and unrequited

loves. Larrea suggests that while the bull is a depiction of Picasso, the horse is a

spiteful lover. In Larrea’s opinion the bull, a positive symbol, turns away in disgust

from the lowly form of the dying horse, suggesting that by depicting the dying

female lover, Picasso gets his revenge for his many lost passions and failed

relationships. (5) However, similar to the previous interpretation, the horse has the

sympathy of the viewer, thus Larrea’s negative view of the horse does not make

sense. Larrea infers that by associating himself with the bull, Picasso paints a

positive image of masculinity in Guernica. However, the darkness around the bull,

his flaming tail, the aggressive light bulb, and the male-dominated attack on

Guernica suggests otherwise. Though Larrea’s interpretation seems partly faulted,

what is correct is the sexual divide that he highlights between the horse and the bull.

Arnheim’s interpretation of these characters suggests that Spain,

represented by the bull, must look within itself for salvation. (1) The majority of the

figures in Guernica look from right to left, and their gazes almost all culminate in the

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direction of the bull. Arnheim interprets this to suggest that these figures look

towards the bull as their salvation, and the bull, sheltering the mother and child, is

the protector of the Spanish nation. However, this accord between the female

sufferers and the male bull cannot be correct. First, the bull turns his head away

from the action, almost trying to escape from it. This is by no means the body

language of a savior. Secondly, the bull does not maintain the composure of the

savior of Spain. Though he is relatively stable, his tale of rising smoke references the

violent flames on the other side of the piece. (4) His eyes parallel the powerful yet

“inert” light bulb, and his tongue takes on the same disturbing form of the scream.

Thus, Arnheim’s notion of Spain looking within itself (or towards the bull) for

salvation cannot be correct.

What is valid, however, is his observation that compositionally, Guernica is a

reversal of Picasso’s earlier work, Minotauromachy. (1) This small scale print

contains many of the same actors as Guernica, perfectly reflected across a line of

symmetry. In the print, a massive bull-man approaches a half-nude sleeping girl,

simultaneously shielding his eyes from another girl who holds a lamp towards him

across the piece. With the overtly powerful form of the Minotaur bull-man quickly

approaching the feminine fragility of the sleeping girl, the print poses the suggestion

of rape. The girl holding the lamp, however, tries to expose the dangers of the

Minotaur. These concepts of powerful masculinity and the threatened female form

transfer onto Guernica. In addition, the suggestion of rape may also carry weight.

The White Terror of Franco was a long standing period during the Spanish Civil war

when dissenting individuals were murdered, tortured, and raped. (13) White Terror

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became an ever-present fear in Spain at the time, and it is very possible that Picasso

draws from this historical detail. Evidence for the suggestion of rape in Guernica, as

well as the piece’s sexual tension can be found in hidden images in the piece. Most

importantly, the front right leg of the horse, bent and kneeling on the ground, forms

the shape of a bulls head; the knee of the horse forms the nose and the dark circle

before the hoof forms the eye. This image, though hidden, is crucial to the

understanding of Guernica; it clarifies and establishes the sexual tensions of the

piece. In bullfighting, a fundamental Spanish tradition, the bull often gores the horse

from below before he is killed himself. Picasso references this tradition here, but

also extends the metaphor. If the bull is a symbol for the darkness of the fascist

regime, and the horse a feminine symbol of pain, then the phallic image of the bull’s

horns penetrating the horse’s body shows not only the sexuality of Guernica but

more importantly the rape of the Spanish people by Franco’s fascism.

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