He was drawn to the underground, the nomad life, and the fierce urge for freedom. Flemish in a sense, and flamenco refused to yield, no matter the laws that tried to curb it. Picasso understood this well; he grew up among gypsies and absorbed their spirit. In a new study, Francis Mármol, a journalist, teacher, and writer who has long worked on ambitious projects, argues that Picasso did not simply paint Spanish guitars. Instead, he shared close ties with Iberian guitar culture through his French friends and acquaintances. He did not throw flamenco parties at Mármol merely to showcase exoticism. The book And Picasso remembered flamenco, presented in a blend of fiction, historical research, poetry, and archival accounts, documents and supports Picasso’s deep fascination with the Jondo tradition of La Merced and shows how it harmonizes with his broader artistic corpus.
When Pablo Picasso was born in Malaga, the city offered a rich, bustling scene of venues and performers. An entire network of singing cafes thrived, and many stars of the moment moved through them. One frequent visitor was José Ruiz y Blasco, the painter’s father, who would often return home from gatherings with a soft, memorable smile. The experience left an imprint on young Pablo, shaping his later sensibilities. Alongside encounters with gypsies in Mundo Nuevo near the Plaza de la Merced, where the boy lived, the area became a cradle for the teaching of jondo by the famed singer Piyayo. The Málaga cantata and its improvisations follow Picasso wherever he goes. In Cannes in 1957, a group of celebrated Málaga painters visited him, and the first thoughts that came to mind were Picasso hum a tune from Piyayo, a memory he held for decades.
For Mármol, flamenco and the bullfight arena represented a nostalgic childhood factor for a man living far from his homeland. He also notes a deeper cultural recognition within Picasso, suggesting the painter could compare diverse artistic traditions with those in other parts of the world. The expectation is that Picasso would feel compelled to curate and preserve cultural legacies that matter to him, especially those tied to his own early life.
guitars
There are numerous images of Spanish guitars that appear in Picasso’s work. The author highlights how he engaged Paco Jurado, a guitarist from Málaga, to teach the instrument to his muse and second wife, Jacqueline Roque. The artist’s celebrations and birthdays became moments of connection with flamenco masters like Antonio El Bailarín, Gades, Manitas de Plata, and Pepito Vargas. Such encounters lend a strong case that Picasso is among the most jondo painters who ever lived. Yet there is a sense of tension—some city cultural supporters continue to downplay Málaga’s flamenco heritage, perhaps out of ignorance or prejudice. The claim is that Picasso’s fame overshadows the music that fed his imagination and delighted his ears.
Evidence is compelling. Today, the memory of Malaga’s twelve singing cafes remains a memory, and El Chinitas, a witness to an era and culture, has given way to tourist apartments and fledgling businesses. What would Don Pablo have made of these changes? Mármol suggests a reflection: the city has a fragile relationship with its cultural heritage, and preserving key venues would matter to the broader story of local art and music. The idea that large minorities deserve recognition for their sensitivity to cultural heritage is a recurring theme; some people feel that preserving certain spaces matters more than quick redevelopment.
Picasso’s memory of flamenco is portrayed as a work that resists current trends. The conversation about these ties began again last year with an exhibition by Argentine artist Emmanuel Lafont, who lived in Málaga and illustrated Mármol’s texts with images of Gypsy girls dancing before surrealist gramophones, labyrinthine minotaurs, and jondos. The new book presents both visual elements and full textual passages, capturing the vibrant microcosm of Málaga cantaora that surrounds Picasso’s world.