Suffering is an enduring theme in art, and the tradition of painting violence, pain, victims, and oppressors has long been a source of expression for artists experiencing conflict. Fransisco de Goya’s Disasters of War is a shockingly graphic eye-witness depiction of the victims of guerrilla warfare in Napoleon’s Peninsular Campaigns. George Grosz’s 1917 faintly-cubist Explosion portrayed the destructive bombing of Berlin in the Great War.[1] Images of victims and oppressors evoke emotions in spectators, stoking societal anger with an intent toward political change. Guernica, Pablo Picasso’s 1937 oil-on-canvas masterpiece of the Spanish Civil War, is believed by some to be the single greatest war painting of all time.[2] Beyond being a massive allegorical depiction of the horrors of war, it can be argued Picasso’s painting purposefully served to mold spectators into proactive participants, encouraging both social action and policy decisions.[3]

In this effort, Picasso sought to influence changes in national policy and increase discourse beyond the borders of his war-torn nation. This calculated creation of a powerful masterpiece should be examined and appreciated as part of a greater wartime narrative. More importantly, the study of wartime art can be a valuable addition to the professional development of military leaders, generating options for professional dialogue about how societies see the victors, the vanquished, and the value of conflicts through the lens of artists and cultural patrimony.

The events that birthed Guernica were simultaneously subtle and striking: an insidious creep of National Socialism in Spain under the rise of General Francisco Franco Bahamonde throughout the 1930s, punctuated by the April 26th bombing of the Spanish city of Guernica by the German Air Force in 1937. Conducted at the behest of General Franco, the bombing followed his efforts to consolidate political power by merging Spain’s numerous Nationalist political parties. At the time of the bombing, Picasso was already advocating against Franco and championing the previous democratically-elected government from his seat as the Director-in-Exile of the Museo Nacional del Prado in Madrid:

The Spanish struggle is the fight of reaction against the people, against freedom. My whole life has been nothing more than a continuous struggle against reaction and the death of art. How could anybody think for a moment that I could be in agreement with reaction and death? When the rebellion began, the legally elected republican government of Spain appointed me director of the Prado Museum, a post which I immediately accepted. In the panel on which I am working which I shall call Guernica, and in all my recent works of art, I clearly express my abhorrence of the military caste which has sunk Spain in an ocean of pain and death.[4]

Following the bombing, Picasso began work on the mural, intending to display the piece at the Spanish Pavilion for the Paris International Exhibition that summer. While a political impetus to paint had always been present for him, the painting’s catalyst was the devastating bombing and gave the new work a clearly resonant theme and emotional stimulus.[5] Picasso completed the initial sketches in early May, and the painting itself was finished by the end of June.

How did Pablo Picasso, father of modern expressionism and one of the greatest painters of all time, convey such a singularly powerful image of Fascism and bombing with only oil paint and three canvas panels? Picasso’s imagery reached beyond the typical eyewitness depictions seen in the works of his predecessors. By arranging three independent images—the agonized mother and dead child, the Minotaur, and the injured horse—Picasso tied allegorical elements together for a broader statement on war. Though each has a nuanced meaning, they are ultimately grouped as a broader statement about destruction and strength, and “depicts the effects of brutality that strikes from nowhere; it speaks of suffering and of hope.”[6] In his authoritative work on the deeper context of Guernica’s independent images, Rudolf Arnheim noted the artist’s “destruction of realistic shape is selective.”[7] The choice to depict the lifeless child in the arms of its mother, her agonized expression over her lifeless progeny, was calculated by the artist. Her body is as anatomical as Picasso ever intended a woman to be, which is not all that uncommon for Picasso’s female models. Her expression is clear even as her physical features morph; her thigh, arms, and breasts force the viewers’ attention to the lifeless child cradled in her arms.[8] “[W]omen and children [were] often presented by Picasso as images of perfection. In the innumerable paintings and drawings, he celebrated their beauty and grace. An assault on women and children is… directed against the very core of mankind.”[9]

These sacred images for Picasso—innocence and maternity—played a central role in his narrative of destruction and violence. The Minotaur was already prominent in Picasso’s etchings and gouache sketches throughout the 1930s.[10] At times, it suggested violence and brutality, often opposite images of frightened women. At other times, the Minotaur became a traditional metaphor for truth, horrified at its reflection in a mirror or light.[11] Wherever Picasso’s art work depicted the bull-headed half-man, the underlying message was of truth and innocence checking violence and evil.[12] Guernica’s Minotaur was no different. The creature appears to witness the violence of war with both eyes wide open; its gaze turned on the destroyed innocence of the mother and dead child. The horse “epitomizes the suffering of Guernica,”  but also the perseverance of its people.[13] Like the Minotaur, the single image could have stood alone, but Picasso chose to complement it with smaller images: numerous daggers evoking violence, a severed arm still clutching a broken sword suggesting the resolute determination of a nation in war, and a burning torch of enlightenment.[14] The broken horse is a grim reminder of war, another victim at the hands of universal, unseen villainy. Yet, even in suffering, a broken nation can rise above the violence and continue toward hope.

In examining the timeline of Picasso’s monumental effort against a backdrop of war, a lesson emerges: well-timed art shapes the social narrative of war. Picasso’s deliberate choice to paint for display that summer sought to capitalize on the immediate reports coming from the battlefield. The images were selected to evoke passion and discourse on wartime policy and raise funds for the Spanish relief effort. Even the artist’s choice of venues was deliberate: high profile exhibitions and museums in democratic nations where open political debate was still permitted.[15] In the months preceding the April 1937 bombing, Picasso accepted the commission for the Paris International Art Exposition’s Spanish Pavilion opening that summer. Within days of the bombing, he began compositional studies for the mural, often re-sketching and overpainting throughout May and June until the piece was officially displayed on July 12th.[16] The mural’s public reception ultimately won Picasso a Grand Prix for graphic art at the 1937 Paris Exhibition, where it remained on display until November of that year. Following a brief tour of Scandinavia, Picasso coordinated with the National Joint Committee for Spanish Relief for Guernica to tour in London as a fundraising effort in 1938.[17]

In April of 1939, the same pattern was repeated by the Executive Committee of the Spanish Intellectual Aid for an American tour.[18] This included negotiations with the head curator of the New York Museum of Modern Art for display, contingent on the recovery of profits from the exhibit to the Medical Bureau of the North American Committee to Aid Spanish Democracy and the organization’s Spanish Refugee Relief Campaign.[19] The 1939 Museum of Modern Art exhibition, Picasso: Forty Years of His Art, opened on November 15, 1939, kick starting a nation-wide tour that lasted until 1952, when the mural went to South America and then took a European Grand Tour. Picasso was proactive in selecting where the mural would be shown and who would see it, remaining in close contact with Alfred H. Barr Jr., the Museum of Modern Art’s head curator, to coordinate for each display around the world.[20] Guernica returned to, and remained at, the Museum of Modern Art in 1957, interrupted only by brief loan exhibitions in Chicago and Philadelphia. By this time, Guernica was firmly established in the art world as a modern masterpiece, transcending its role as a wartime rally-point to become the icon it is today.

Throughout his life, Picasso stood firm by one stipulation for Guernica: for the mural to return to Spain, a democratic republic would have to be established that included free elections. Despite Franco’s efforts to claim the painting in 1968, Guernica would not return to the nation of its namesake city until September 9th, 1981, following the first free elections in 1977 and the adoption of a democratic constitution a year later. Picasso did not live to see his political end state achieved. He died in 1973 of congestive heart failure at the age of 91 while still in exile in France.

In the decades that have followed Picasso’s death, Guernica has become a demonstration tool for countless conflicts around the world, to include anti-war protests in America following the entrance into Iraq in 2003. It was such a significant statement of anti-war sentiment that a tapestry replica hung at the entrance to the United Nations Security Council room from 1985 until 2009 on loan from the Nelson A. Rockefeller estate.[21] Wherever recreations of the mural appear, the message is typically a cry for peace in the wake of violent conflict.

When leaders re-examine their professional development programs, expanding these programs to include the visual and fine arts presents unique options. Like professional reading lists, the fine arts offer opportunities to explore both the history and societal views of war from an overlooked perspective, the perspective of artists. Artistic interpretation of events allows viewers to glimpse a society at a moment in time as well as an enduring perspective of a larger conflict, much like Picasso’s epic mural was an interpretation of both Franco’s dictatorship and the discrete attack on the town of Guernica. While this inclusion of art into a leader’s professional development plan can feel daunting and far outside the typical experience of military commanders, it is not insurmountable. Museum curators can be a valuable asset in building lessons around specific educational themes for leader professional development.

As the COVID-19 pandemic forced shelter-in-place directives and closed public and private museums, many institutions took the opportunity to either make their collections available online or build specially curated YouTube tours that allow people to visit their collections from the safety of their homes. In Spain, an online expatriate newspaper published an article with a catchy title “Prado in your PJ’s.”[22] Madrid’s Museo del Prado now hosts a daily hour-long live tour on Instagram, simulcast on Facebook, in an attempt to both scratch the itch of museum goers around the world and maintain a connection to the people whose experiences shaped the collection they display today.[23] Museums like the Prado, and artwork like Guernica, have never been more accessible for immediate public appreciation, including military professionals and defense policy makers. The need for connection and relevance has forced cultural institutions to find new ways to reach potential patrons. For now, there is an opportunity for strategists and tacticians alike to see and understand the art that has been shaped by—and can shape the narrative of—war.

Nikki Dean is an active duty U.S. Army officer. Her research focuses on art theft, looting, illicit markets, curation and collections management in war. The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect those of the U.S. Army, the Department of Defense, or the U.S. Government.

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Header Image: “Guernica” by Pablo Picasso (Wikimedia)

Notes:

[1] Werner Hoffmann, “Picasso’s Guernica in its Historical Context.” Artibus et historiae 4, no. 7 (1983): 142-48, https://jstor.org/stable/1483186 (accessed January 01, 2020).

[2] Noah Charney. “Picasso’s weapon against fascism: Why ‘Guernica’ is the greatest of all war paintings,” Salon.com, April 30, 2017, https://salon.com/2017/04/30/picassos-weapon-against-fascism-why-guernica-is-the-greatest-of-all-war-paintings (accessed January 03, 2020).

[3] Ibid.

[4] Alfred Barr, Picasso: Fifty Years of his Art (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1946), 202.

[5] Anthony Blunt, Picasso’s Guernica (New York: Oxford University Press, 1969), 7- 9.

[6] Rudolf Arnheim, The Genesis of a Painting: Picasso’s Guernica (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1962), 21.

[7] Ibid, 68.

[8] Arnheim, 68.

[9] Ibid, 20.

[10] Blunt, 19.

[11] Ibid, 23.

[12] Tim Smith- Laing, “What the Minotaur can tell us about Picasso,” Apollo-magazine.com, May 02, 2017, under “Reviews,” https://apollo-magazine.com/what-the-minotaur-can-tell-us-about-picasso/ (accessed April 27, 2020). 

[13] Arnheim, 44.

[14] Charney, “Picasso’s weapon against fascism: Why ‘Guernica’ is the greatest of all war paintings.”

[15] Rene G. Cepeda. “Brecht and Picasso, Art as a Weapon for Social Change,” Museologician: Discussing Museums and Design Blog, entry posted on March 12, 2014, https://ragc.wordpress.com/2014/03/12/brecht-and-picasso-art-as-a-weapon-for-social-change/ (accessed January 03, 2020).

[16] Arnheim, 18.

[17] Minutes of the National Committee for Spanish Relief, September 12, 1938, papers of the British National Committee for Spanish Relief, University of Warwick Library, Coventry, U.K.

[18] Minutes from the Executive Committee of Spanish Intellectual Aid, April 3, 1939, authored by Sylvia S. Roberts (Secretary) on the subject of Picasso’s intent for Guernica during an American tour, Spanish Refugee Association Records, 1935-1957, Organization Minutes and Reports, Box 2, Executive Committee Minutes 1939, C-2, The Rare Book and Manuscript Library of Columbia University, New York.

[19] Minutes from the Executive Committee of Spanish Intellectual Aid, April 3, 1939.

[20] Correspondence of Alfred H. Barr Jr., October 2, 1952, File 515AP/E/16/14/25, Fonds Picasso, Musee National Picasso-Paris, France.

[21] Nelson A. Rockefeller to W.R. Keating & Co., cheque for the delivery of a replica Guernica tapestry, February 2, 1956. Commissioned by Nelson Rockefeller in 1955, the tapestry was woven by the French fiber artist, Jacqueline de la Baume. Letter from Jaqueline de la Baume Durrbach to Nelson A. Rockefeller, August 1957, File “La Guernica” Rfam NAR, RG4, Series C: Art, B28-F-238, Rockefeller Archive Center, Sleepy Hollow, NY.

[22] The Olive Press Online, “Prado in your pj’s: The 13 virtual museum tours you can do from bed amid Spain’s Coronavirus lockdown,” TheOlivePress.com, La Cultura, March 18, 2020, https://www.theolivepress.es/spain-news/2020/03/18/prado-in-your-pjs-the-13-virtual-museum-tours-you-can-do-from-bed-amid-spains-coronavirus-lockdown/ (accessed April 24, 2020).

[23] Instagram, Museo Prado, https://www.instagram.com/museoprado/ (accessed April 24, 2020).