When exactly did Pablo Picasso paint so much?  I saw an old documentary recently called “The Mystery of Picasso”, and there was a clip where he was strolling around his work studio, pontificating about this and that in a thick accent, and there were paintings everywhere.

I mean, stacked against all four walls.  On the floor.  Hanging from the rafters, literally.  They were of all shapes and sizes.  And I wondered, to myself, cause who else could I really wonder to, alone, at night, watching a movie…. when exactly did this dude paint so much?

I know he was a dedicated womanizer, and that takes time too.  He must have either been getting up early, or had some kind of a personal manager to keep him on schedule because, as I said, and you can see for yourself, the man really had a butt load of paintings.

Sketches too.  Drawings.  Etchings.  Wish I could etch.  I think he did some sculpting in there somewhere in bronze or clay or whatever these guys sculpt in.  I can’t sculpt, but something about the layout of the consonants in word gives me pleasure.

I wondered if he cooked.  You would think if he could sort out all those colors and the images that sprung from his head, that he could probably whip up a tasty snack. And being from Spain, I bet he had a few cubist variations on paella.

I would never want to eat anything cubist, however.  I can abide pointy food and never have.  If it were fish he were making me, or chicken, lamb, say, I would want the eyes and mouth to be pretty much distinguishable, instead of all askew and awkward.

Say he was broiling me a flounder or red snapper, I would hope the presentation would be traditional, as opposed to a pair of noses where the gills should be because that would be gross.  I definitely wouldn’t want to have eaten any of his cooking from the blue period, because all of that depression seeps into the food, and makes it taste bland.

Either way, Picasso was prolific, and that was his own fault.  One can feel bad for those people who are too obsessive to do anything but one thing, or one can do one’s best be better than that, to rise above, and to try and help them expand their horizons. I like what Picasso painted, for the most part. But what if he had spent a little time on the golf course, for example? Or if he had looked into roofing? Or epidemiology? Would we not have all kinds of inspiration from those fields of discipline as well?

I believe, in general, to be mediocre, or even not very good at many different types of things is what is best in this world.