Most assessments of art cite Picasso as the single most influential artist of the twentieth century. Some commentators, however and not just militant feminists probably see the man as one of the most reprehensible serial abusers of women in the history of art. Or, in the name of art. That was certainly part of the premise put forward in Roy Macgregor Hastie's 1988 book, Picasso's Women.

It also seems to be the subtext in Brian McAvera's play/book of the same name, staged at Dublin's National Concert Hall this week and due to start a nationwide tour in September. Picasso's Women, starring Lia Monaghan, Katherine Murphy and Roisin McBrinn, is directed by Sean Colgan. Does the production deliver on its tantalising promise to "spill the beans about the artist's grosser proclivities"?
"It does," Colgan says. "Brian's book is eight monologues from some of the women in Picasso's life. What I've done is taken six of those women and interspersed extracts of their monologues you get a simultaneous perspective on their lives with Picasso, as viewed objectively and subjectively! In places it s bawdy, crude, sexy, bitter, everything."
But does Sean agree with those who say one of Picasso's "grosser proclivities" was an abuse of women?
"Let's put it this way," he muses. "One of his women, Dora, went mad, it's said, because of the way he treated her. Two committed suicide when he died. But, apart from the women, you also have the fact that his grandson committed suicide and his best friend, Casagemas, committed suicide because it's also said he was impotent and wanted to get off with Picasso, but Picasso was having none of that. So there is this general view that Picasso used and abused people in general. But particularly women."
In his art as in life, it seems. One of the first women in Picasso's life, Fernande Olivier, was the model for one his most revolutionary, cubist paintings: the brothel scene , Les Demoisselles D'Avignon.
Not a gig she enjoyed, obviously. "He painted her four or five times and she wasn't quite sure, at the time, what was happening," Sean reflects. "And it was only when she saw the painting she realised she'd been had. The words she used were 'you tore me apart, Pablo. Dislocated me. Cut me. Made me a whore five times over. Made me a fetish. Crude. Brutal. Disgusting'."
Colgan agrees that this kind of claim "probably could be applied" to Pablo Picasso's treatment of most of the women in his life, if we are to take Brian McAvera's testimony as true.
"Well, the way the book is written that certainly seems to be the case," argues Sean. "Another example of mistreatment is his affair with the youngster in it. She was only 17 and he was 45. She actually says she was in a camp for children at the time and he was staying nearby with his wife, Olga. He and the young girl had to be very careful because what he was doing was illegal. And the point is, of course, that he also was cheating on his wife though she didn't find out 'till much later. Then again, Picasso seems not to have been able to remain faithful to any one woman."
That said, most of the women in Picasso's life were aware of his seemingly genetic inability to be loyal.
"They knew he was having affairs, left, right and centre."
And explaining , no doubt, that they were serving his art.
"That's true, fundamentally," suggests Sean. "And a lot of his fellow artists say they knew when Picasso had a new woman because his style of painting changed."
Telling the tale this way Sean Colgan seems to be presenting a production that adds up to little more than a total invalidation of Pablo Picasso's art! Not so, he claims.
"No. When it comes to this core question I'd use a quote by one of the women, which, to me, is wonderful. She says 'great art, pity about the man'. And I think that sums it up."
As for whether or not this particular production of Picasso's Women is "great art" that remains to be seen. Even so, Sean Colgan and Blackthorn Arts are taking a hugely challenging approach to the play. They are attempting to present the kind of cubist perspective Picasso actually perfected through is art.
"The play is being staged in London at the moment but they are just doing it as a series of monologues," he notes. "We, as I said, are interspersing fragments, in a very cubist way, because in that sense we offer different perspectives at the same time. For example, at one point one of the women says Picasso wasn't 'very good' in bed and, immediately, another says he was 'terrific' in bed. And that, at least is true to the man's work whatever one may think of the man himself!"