In my mind, I remembered the moment. My naked body, coated in a bright blue paint, pressing against the wooden box, trying to coat every last inch of it. Picasso watching on, giving precise instructions, as he’d done previously with other women and other boxes.
“There were definitely blue boxes. I know there were. BRIGHT blue, like that blue over there,” I said, pointing toward the wall painted a brilliant sky blue.
“There were green, and black. Nine green boxes total, 3 black, and then there were the rocks.”
“Yes, I know there were green and black. Nine green boxes, with around 20 green rocks, 3 black boxes and 5 black rocks. But there were also 3 blue boxes and 7 blue rocks.” I couldn’t understand why this art historian was arguing with me; I’d helped create the boxes.