Windy City Windfall

"C'est un don, un cadeau pour Chicago," said Pablo Picasso. "It's a donation, a gift for Chicago." With those words, the Windy City became the recipient of one of the most magnificent windfalls in its history: Picasso's $100,-000 design for a 50-ft. sculpture to stand in front of the city's new $87 million civic center. Also without charge, the Spanish master--who will turn 85 next month--threw in his original 42-in. maquette for the Chicago Art Institute.

In announcing the gift last week, Architect William Hartmann, a partner in Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, one of the three firms involved in designing the civic center, revealed that Picasso's design will be executed in ever-rusting Cor-ten steel, the same material as the 31-story building. "This is not a cast that bears the thumbprint of the artist," said Hartmann. "Picasso created some thing that has to be constructed like a building." To do so will cost $300,000, a tab to be assumed by three private foundations. If all goes well, the sculpture will be installed in nine months.

Siesta & Small Talk. The project all began, Hartmann said, three years ago, when the architects decided that the 85,000-sq.-ft. Civic Plaza called for "an important piece of sculpture." Why not go right to the top, approach Picasso? Armed with models of the building and photographs of Chicago, Hartmann descended upon the artist's villa at Mougins on the French Riviera. Though Picasso had never been to Chicago--or, for that matter, to the U.S.--he delightedly recognized pictures of Carl Sandburg and Ernest Hemingway. "Mon ami Hemingway," he exclaimed, then explained that he had taught the novelist all about bullfighting. On subsequent trips, Hartmann captured Picasso's fancy with a Sioux Indian war bonnet and a White Sox baseball cap.

The final sculpture, Hartmann explained, would be placed before the city's Palais de Justice, or courthouse. For a year Picasso ruminated, finally painted the first sketch on plywood. Then, working with twisted cardboard, which his assistant translated into pieces of metal and assembled, Picasso developed two versions, one light and delicate, the other roughhewn. Not until May 1965 did Picasso bring the two together, announce: "This is it."

Viqor & Vision. Picasso's choice was for the airy figure, untitled but unmistakably feminine. Its graceful symmetry, sweeping lines and enigmatic features suggest more than a passing nod to U.S. tradition, which has usually portrayed Justice as a blindfolded goddess weighing scales, often combined with an eagle in flight.

The game of guessing Picasso's true intention is likely to go on as long as the sculpture stands. So is the equally nagging question, why Chicago? Says Hartmann: "It is a city not unlike Picasso. It is a volatile place. Besides, he began to love it, to think of it as a city of great beauty, vigor and vision." The only one, in fact, with the vigor and vision to opt for the top.

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