Pablo PICASSO - Original signed photograph.

Pablo Picasso (1881.1973)

Original signed photograph.

Vintage silver print, probably unique.

Cannes – 1957.

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Picasso, his eyes laughing and smoldering in front of his paintings, poses surrounded by gallery owners and his young model Sylvette David, during his exhibition at Galerie 65.

Behind Picasso, a work by the master depicting Sylvette seated in front of a cup of coffee.

Photo enriched with Picasso's signature in black ink, in the lower margin.

On the back, a handwritten caption indicates: Exhibition in a gallery, rue d'Antibes in Cannes, with the gallery owners and Sylvette (blonde), Picasso's current companion.

Sylvette David, also known by her married name Lydia Corbett, worked in a pottery workshop near Picasso's in Vallauris in the summer of 1953. She was 19 years old at the time. With her grave beauty and blonde hair tied in a ponytail, she caught the master's attention in 1954 and, for three months, became his muse and the subject of more than 40 works by Picasso.

Cliché with frayed edges. Oblong format: 9 x 12.50 cm.

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Sylvette Roux on Picasso : I was an extremely shy 19-year-old girl. I was afraid of everything, even speaking. When the famous painter asked me to pose for him, in April 1954, frightened, I arrived at his studio with a gray coat, tight to the neck. He wanted to pay me but I refused, for fear that he would ask me to undress.

I live in Vallauris with my mother. She is a painter, works in a pottery and rents a small house in the village. At 19 years old, I'm afraid of everything, including working. I never studied. My English fiancé, Toby, lives with us and, to earn a living, makes wrought iron furniture. Mom knows the Ramiés, owners of the Madoura pottery, well and asks them if they can show Picasso, who comes to their house to make his ceramics, a very original chair by Toby. Toby and I stop by one evening, around 7 p.m., to see if Pablo liked his chair. Suzanne Ramié tells us that he bought it. Toby's face then fills with pride, and a few minutes later, Picasso arrives, very smiling, a cigarette between his fingers. His smile is very beautiful, very frank and, in his eyes, you see everything he thinks. I turn red because I'm so intimidated. He warmly congratulates Toby and asks us to deliver the object to the Welshwoman, his villa. A few days later, I am with a group of friends under the awning of a terrace filled with old pottery that we put there to dry. A simple wall separates us from Pablo's workshop. Suddenly, we hear “ooh ouh!” », and above the wall, an immense canvas unfolds: it is my portrait, in profile, with my long ponytail. Picasso drew me from memory, in charcoal. We cannot see the painter because he is quite small, but we can guess that it is him. Picasso beckons us to come see him, opens the gate and the tour of his studio begins.

He shows us his ceramics and his paintings when he turns to me and asks me to pose for him. I am very surprised because I am with a friend who is much more beautiful than me. I replied: “I’ll ask my mother.” » Who immediately says yes.

The next morning, late in the morning of April 1954, dressed in a gray coat with a collar sewn by my mother and fastened up to the neck with five-franc coin buttons made by my fiancé, I arrived at the workshop. Picasso kisses me on each cheek. He smells good, he's clean shaven. He kindly asks me to sit in a rocking chair in front of a window and, above all, to stay in profile. The painter smokes gypsies, on the ground there is a pyramid of empty packets. He wants to pay me. I refuse. Because I think that if I accept, I will then have to pose naked. I'm totally wrong: he never asked me. After a session, he shows me my portrait in a navy blue turtleneck sweater, and asks: “Do you like it?” » I whisper: “Yes, Mr. Picasso. » The next day, when I arrived in his studio, I discovered that he had removed the sweater from the canvas and that he had painted me naked. “Sylvette, you’re not mad?” » Without even blushing this time, I answer: “No, I find it very good, it doesn't bother me at all. » Often, Picasso insisted: “Tell me if you need money. I know what it's like not to have one. » As I don't want to, he buys Toby chairs. Sometimes he takes me to visit Madoura. One day he took me into a large hangar in which there was his beautiful black Hispano-Suiza. He said to me: “Come up. » We sit in the back, and he tells me lots of stories, about his life, his past, but I'm so young, I don't understand much. As he leaves me, he kisses me like a father on both cheeks.  

I posed for about three months for him.
At the end, he thanked me: “Sylvette, thank you for being there when I was in trouble, I was going through a bad patch in my love life and through your presence you helped me. » In June, he called me to the studio, and led me into a room: “Look, Sylvette, you have to choose a painting. » There were all my portraits there, around forty, canvases and drawings. I chose the most similar and the largest, dated May 5, 1954. Overnight, thanks to his paintings, I became a star. I no longer dare go out into the streets of Vallauris, people ask me for autographs. I'm a little overwhelmed by events.

Later, Toby got sick and we needed money. I had to sell the portrait Picasso gave me. It was an American who bought it, I cried my eyes out, deep down I really wanted to keep it. I sold it to him for 10 million old francs. This allowed me to buy an apartment in Paris, have Toby treated, then marry him. I found my portrait in England last year. The new owner, who had acquired it at an auction for several million dollars, was kind enough to welcome me. You can imagine, fifty-four years later, the emotion was too strong and I cried.  

Recently I was invited to Texas to the San Antonio Museum. They have a portrait of me and the curator asked me why Picasso painted me without a mouth. A bit like Bécassine. I answered simply: “Because I was so shy that I didn’t speak.” » I owe it to him to have become a painter myself. For me, he was a key that opened all doors.