
© 2007 Estate of Pablo Picasso/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
Pablo Picasso and John Richardson at Chateau de Vauvenargues, 1959

Photo by Jason Wyche
Picasso biographer John Richardson
Isn’t it problematic that you, who are writing what will someday be considered the definitive history of the late Picasso, are simultaneously employed by a gallery that’s working to establish a market for those works?
Well, Picasso is long since dead, and there are so many other dealers who are dealing in Picasso. I think Gagosian is better known as a dealer in contemporary art than a dealer in classic 20th-century art. He pays me a wage for whatever work I do, which is mostly writing prefaces, or that’s what I assume it will be, because we’ve only just started on this arrangement. There’s no conflict of interest there. If I’m ever asked by anybody to do anything that I don’t like or that puts me in an embarrassing situation, I don’t do it. With Larry, who I think is a brilliant dealer and extremely sensitive to what’s going on at the moment, I foresee all kinds of possibilities.
Does he own Picasso’s last painting? I’ve heard that he does.
Gagosian’s painting is often said to be Picasso’s last work. However, the last time I went into the studio at Notre-Dame-de-Vie, shortly before Jacqueline committed suicide [in 1986], there was one painting that obsessed me, Figures (dated May 25, 1972), which is in fact his last painting without any question. It was in the Tate late Picasso show [“Le Dernier Picasso: 1953–1973,” June 1988], and I wrote a special piece about it. It’s not one of those canvases that’s been done in a day, two days. This one has been worked on and worked on. It has this massive layer of paint, and the subject is mysterious. It’s sort of like a snowstorm. It’s about death.
But this is not quite the last painting, either. Because there was a canvas leaning behind it. It was the same size, enormous. And nothing on it . . . but his signature. That’s Picasso being open-ended.
You’ve worked many years in the art market and also as a scholar. Do you think there’s any conflict between the two roles?
I think for some people there would be conflicts. There was never any conflict for me. When it came to writing about works of art, I knew what I thought, I knew what I liked, I was lucky in being close to some of the greatest artists of my time: to Picasso, to Braque, to Leger in France; in England to Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon, whom I had known long before they were famous. As yet I wasn’t involved in the commercial side. Artists sensed that and were extremely generous to me. Freud has been very generous to me. He did a portrait of me, which he gave me. Andy Warhol did a portrait of me, which he gave me, and he gave me a lot of other stuff. The only painting Braque gave to me, I had to sell. But for me, the money was important only so far as it enabled me to work without having to go to an office and deal with a lot of extremely antipathetic people.
You’re not concerned with the market’s impact on the art world?
Yes and no. I think it’s a fascinating subject. I keep abreast of the market, but I’m not part of it. By nature, I’m the reverse of a businessman. I have no interest in business: I’m rather horrified by it. When I ran Christie’s, it was as a lover of art. I left the business side to other people.
Do you think there are still people like that in the auction houses and the galleries?
I’ve been out of the art market, until going in with Gagosian, for 25 years probably, ever since I’ve been working on this book. My only rapport with the market was selling things off my walls; selling the Picassos in order to go on not having a job and not being involved in commerce.
Have you managed to hold onto some of your Picassos? I hope you haven’t sold them all.
Only a couple of the drawings he gave me — also a few prints and things. All my other Picassos had to be sold in order to pay the expenses of the biography.