KIKI DE MONTPARNASSE Kiki wanted a baby with me, but was disappointed. I never had been a father and wondered if it was my fault. I did not pursue the investigation any further, and am still wondering. Kiki solved her own problem of what to do with her spare time. One day she came into the studio carrying a painting. It represented a little girl, very much like Kiki, of about eight years old, but filling up most of the canvas, seated in a field, with a woman much smaller beside her. She said it was a childhood souvenir of her upbringing in Burgundy. The painting was naïve but boldly brushed in, the drawing heightened by strong pencil lines, the colors bright and fresh. Kiki went to work with a will, producing all kinds of subjects: rural scenes with peasants, circus scenes and strong men at fairs, portraits of painters and girl friends. One day Hans Richter,
the Dada moviemaker, came in with Eisenstein, the Russian director. In a short sitting she made a portrait of the latter, which he bought. Another time Bob Chanler was in town and brought Clem Randolph with her baby to be photographed. I made a picture with the baby feeding at Clem’s naked breast. When Kiki saw the print she melted sentimentally, carried it off and made a painting of it. An exhibition was arranged for Kiki at a local gallery. Robert Desnos, the poet, wrote a preface for the catalogue. All Montparnasse turned out for the opening—it was a great success, both artistically and financially—most of the pictures were sold. But Kiki did not continue; had none of the instincts of a career girl; could never turn her talents to profit.
Opposite, bottom: Man Ray, Constantin Brâncusi, c. 1930, gelatin silver negative on celluloid film, 3 5⁄8 × 2 3⁄8 inches (9 × 6 cm) Opposite, top: Man Ray, Georges Braque in studio, 1925, vintage gelatin silver print, 3 1⁄8 × 2 3⁄8 inches (7.9 × 6 cm) This page: Man Ray, Suicide (Kiki de Montparnasse), 1928, gelatin silver negative on celluloid film, 3 5⁄8 × 2 3⁄8 inches (9 × 6 cm)
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