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The Story of Marie Therese Walter

Read the story of Marie Therese— Pablo Picasso's muse, mistress, and lover — in this article by Vanity Fair.

Highly recommend to start from the beginning of the tumblr posts, or the story will be understood in reverse.

In addition, please follow Marie Therese's twitter @marieTpicasso

This rope.

4 years has passed since you left my existence. I thought I would be the first to fade, and I was fading, but you faded more quickly and unexpectedly, and then you were gone.

I keep staring at this rope, reminded of you, dreaming of us. I know you are forever and from now on dreaming. I was thinking of joining you. Would you welcome me? Would you welcome fading together?

See you soon my dear Picasso. No more waiting in that chair. To the dream we embark on.

Love,

MTP

The Final Portrait.

The lawyers told me you left this portrait of me in your will. Mature and ethereally— you wrote. Reminds me of our final days together.

1955, 1956, 1957, 1958, 1959, 1960, 1961, 1962, 1963, 1964, 1965, 1966, 1967, 1968, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1972, 1973 — today is a sad day my dear Picasso.

I received a call today. From you. You told me Olga died. I asked about Dora, and you said she needed professional help, but she's okay now. working on her photography. And then you asked if we could finally marry. You never divorced for legal reasons and you still left her. Similar to how you left me. You let me fade. You lead me to the sidelines with a promise of return. This is not a return. This is a cry for company. Yes I have faded, and you will never fade for me, but I have to say no my dear Picasso. I am not that girl you met walking off the metro anymore. I am not the 17 year old girl in the red beret, sitting and waiting in that chair. I don't dream anymore. No more "Le Reve." No more Marie Therese Picasso.

1949, 1950, 1951, 1952, 1953, 1954, 1955

1948 — your daughter.

1946, 1947, 1948

the war is over.

you and Maya.

1940, 1941, 1942, 1943, 1944, 1945 ..... fading into the distance. sidelined with Maya. you only visit to see her. you are a great father. kind-heartened. sweet smiles, and gentle exchanges. warm French nights. teaching her how to draw. I fall asleep. I dream. And nap. But you don't sketch my face anymore. You don't look that much at me. I can tell this war is weighing you down. So far removed, you so involved. Are you taking this out on Dora? The weeping woman. Do you weep? I weep at times. Please don't weep. Just come home. Don't let me fade. Our home will never fade.

World War II has commenced.

1939

From mistress to wife.

Crowned with a wreath for our "marriage," though we will never be married on paper. I am the new wife in your mind, and Dora is your new mistress.

I am fading. Sidelining to the corners of the room. I am appreciated but not needed anymore. I am the retired muse.

1938

you said it was me and dora from last week

I finally meet your new muse. A lover meeting another lover. We fight and you stood there. Not saying or doing anything — you just kept on painting... I turned to you and asked you "make up your mind. which one of us goes?" And you respond with silence and a blank stare. And then you said "fight it out among yourselves."

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