One of my favorite Picasso pieces, for any number of reasons. One is the way the hair turns into the arm, which has always looked more Escher than Picasso to me. Another is how often I want to relax like that in the afternoon. Finally, I have a blanket like that. It's wool, and my uncle Layne used it to wrap a bunch of paperbacks he stole for my grandmother out of the hotel in a western city where he was working. I use it to cover and muffle and cushion things in my vehicle. I could hang it up for decoration, but then I could do the same with the hundred-year-old quilt my son sleeps under. But I think the ladies who sewed it wanted somebody to sleep under it. If they saw me hanging it on the wall they would laugh as if I'd used the drapes for bedsheets.

I wonder what the name of the Picasso is.

Last Revised: 02.10.03    Publisher: Joseph Gus Fitzgerald