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Nobody knows how big his output has been. The catalogue raisonné of Picasso's work, begun by his friend Christian Zervos 39 years ago, cannot keep up with this immense, almost monotonous fecundity; it runs to 23 volumes, and has only reached the early 1960s. Some two-thirds of this oeuvre is privately owned by dealers and collectors. Thus, in terms of investment, literally billions of dollars hang upon the survival of his reputation, a fact that accentuates the general reluctance to breathe a word against his work.
How Modern? But whether Picasso's reputation will survive in its present form is an open question. Sir Anthony Blunt, one of England's leading art historians, flatly declares that "Picasso is no longer a modern painter," and that "after 1945, he ceased to hold the leading position in modern painting." Says Manhattan Dealer Leo Castelli: "Picasso is not an important force in modern painting now. But he is still an incredibly important figure because of what he's been. He's not just a great painter. He's one of the towering figures of this century and all times. He goes along with Velásquez and Rubens." Demands Sir Roland Penrose: "What do people expect of a modern painter? Whenever painting of the image is considered, Picasso is of vital importance. His influence is not as strong as it was 20 years ago. But times and influences change. His will swing back."
There is little doubt about the direction of the swing today. Forty years ago, Picasso was a presence that every living artist had to cope with. His Promethean spirit was written into the idea of modernism itself. Not now. The only men of Picasso's generation whose work still exerts pressure on modern painting are Henri Matisse (1869-1954) and Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968). To artists nurtured on Duchampian irony, the very idea of the culture-hero, which Picasso embodies, is suspect. The last 15 years have seen a reaction against the cult of expressive personality in art, and Picasso has caught the backlash. He took the virtuoso's role, enlarged it, identified it with himself, and reamed out all its possibilities. Hence nobody else can play it: there is no act left to follow. Picasso's current work means little or nothing to other artists, and no living painters influence him. He inhabits an iso lation which is as extreme as his fame. The history of art, which Picasso brilliantly raided throughout his career, has now enfolded him. He is an Old Master before his death, contemplating the spectacle of a posterity which has already come.
The Prodigy. Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Crispin Crispiniano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz Picasso was born at Malaga, under the sign of Scorpio, on Oct. 25, 1881. His mother claimed that the first word he uttered was "piz"—baby talk for lapiz or pencil. "When I was twelve," the artist boasted later, "I could draw like Raphael." He could not, of course. But when he was 15, he had already exhausted the limits of academic teaching, as is amply shown in The Altar Boy, 1896 (No. 1 in TIME's survey of his