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As I traveled through Europe I found myself standing on the stone street of Carrer Moncada awaiting the doors to open of the Pablo Ruiz Picasso Museum in Barcelona, Spain. The line began to expand as the light trickled from the sky fell upon our heads; my roommate and I discussed our previous day traveling the streets of La Rambla viewing the amazing street performers and our thoughts on Paella, the famous Spanish dish.

The modern design structure that accommodates many creations by Picasso seemed miles away through crowd of tourists, however it was not long before the formation began to move and the walls of the museum enveloped us and our minds.

Upon entering the museum I gained a contemporary, leisurely feel and instantly felt comfortable among the many strangers who had also traveled to view the works of a brilliant artist. We were greeted by a brief synopsis of Picasso’s life and an insight into his creations. Picasso’s work was separated through the eras in his life and styles of work. The museum was conveniently divided into segregated rooms dismissing any feeling of an uneasy concentration.

As I entered each room I felt content about the amount of paintings; the division of the works made it possible to tackle and fully look at each and every work with appreciation.

I took my time and gazed upon each work,  and I began to notice the amazing amount of paint strokes that still prominently sit upon the canvas. It was as if Picasso had just taken the bristles off the canvas, as if he had just made his final stroke upon the canvas through the withstanding color. How did he know it was his last stroke? How did he know that was the last sweep upon the canvas? These were the questions that absorbed my mind as I looked closely at each painting and wondered the thoughts that crept through his reasoning.

Seeing the indents of the bristles made each painting come alive, they helped portray a sense of the pristine. Each sighting of bristles made me feel as if Picasso were standing behind me with a paintbrush in his hand dripping with paint.

As I entered each era a different ambiance took over my state of mind. The Blue Era often felt dreary, the Cubism Era often presented confusion and thought and the Rose Era felt carefree and joyous. One of my favorite paintings by Picasso, which I was delighted to witness, is titled ‘The Tragedy.’  It was composed during the time of the Blue Era. This painting resembles despair and an indefinite occurrence that lurks upon each individual. I stood close to the painting to understand their despair, and listened for a whisper that could explain the thoughts and feelings Picasso had while creating this work, there were no whispers, only my own thoughts about the composition and ideas as to what the infinite tragedy could be. When I see this painting I see three people searching for answers and lost in their own questions, I see them turning their back upon what is behind them, yet shutting off the one that stands before them. I see three people caught in a contradiction and lost in where to go.

I chose to go to the Pablo Ruiz Picasso museum because of my own curiosity. I had the privilege of briefly learning about him through various art classes but never thoroughly had the chance to dive into the entirety of his life.

Picasso was a man of exploration; he entered into art through realism but found the lines too constrictive and incorporated his own vision and definition of art.