La Hollandaise

Hand-stitched collage made from found papers, and my nana’s thread.

13 x 18cms.

La Hollandaise, Pablo Picasso, 1905. Taken from this book.

The pussy-grabbing hand belongs to Donald Trump. Cut from the London Evening Standard, 19.12.17. Photographer unknown.

The hat was cut from a photograph of Zadie Smith taken by Murdo Macleod. The Guardian, 18.1.18.

The bra was cut from Time Out London. Made by This Is Not A Love Song. Photographer unknown.

The bubble gum was cut from a photograph by Holly Andres in Time Out London. Tune-Yards.

The Earrings were taken from a photograph of Frida Kahlo by Nickolas Muray. London Evening Standard.

© Alison Sye, 2018. All images of my work are my copyright, and as such will never be reproduced in hard-print format (it goes completely against the grain of my work, I don’t add new stuff to the world, but use what is already here), or in digital format without permission. Credit must always be given to myself and the photographers involved.

Tête De Femme

Hand-stitched collage made from found papers, and my nana’s thread.

13 x 18cms.

Tête De Femme, Pablo Picasso, 1946. Taken from this book.

The femme in question is Françoise Gilot.

The lips and eyes belong to Frida Kahlo. Cut from the London Evening Standard. Photo by Nickolas Muray.

All of my work is individually numbered. This piece is 878.

© Alison Sye, 2018. All images of my work are my copyright, and as such will never be reproduced in hard-print format (it goes completely against the grain of my work, I don’t add new stuff to the world, but use what is already here), or in digital format without permission. Credit must always be given to myself and the photographers involved.

Femme En Chemise

Hand-stitched collage made from found papers, and my nana’s thread.

13 x 18cms.

Femme En Chemise, Pablo Picasso, 1920. Taken from this book.

The arm belongs to David Bailey. Photograph by Fenton Bailey, 2012.

The hat comes from Love Island’s presenter, Caroline Flack. Cut from an article by Barbara Ellen in the Observer (27.5.18). Photo: ITV.

© Alison Sye, 2018. All images of my work are my copyright, and as such will never be reproduced in hard-print format (it goes completely against the grain of my work, I don’t add new stuff to the world, but use what is already here), or in digital format without permission. Credit must always be given to myself and the photographers involved.

Picasso, 1949

Picasso by Jacques Lassaigne.

Editions Aimery Somogy, Paris, 1949.

ARS Mundi.

Directeur Technique: Max Petitjean (M.A.P.).

Printed in France.

Originally purchased in Foyles, Charing Cross Road, London.

 

Even though this book is knackered, I have been unable to take a needle to it for twenty years.

Both books, and Pablo, are sacrosanct.

I have loved Picasso’s work for as long as I can remember. Like, goosebumps loved. But lately, I have become increasingly angry at this male artist genius thing.

That, and Picasso was forty-five when he started the relationship with seventeen-year-old Marie-Thérèse.

Also, listening to this song provoked my act of insignificant anarchy, somewhat. Scroll down for lyrics, by Jonathan Richman.

Well some people try to pick up girls
And get called assholes
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and
So Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole

Well the girls would turn the colour
Of the avocado when he would drive
Down their street in his El Dorado
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not like you
Alright

Well he was only 5’3″
But girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not in New York

Oh well be not schmuck, be not obnoxious,
Be not bellbottom bummer or asshole
Remember the story of Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Alright this is it

Some people try to pick up girls
And they get called an asshole
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and so
Pablo Picasso was never called…