In a world that constantly demands more of our attention, more of our energy, and more of our time, I find myself drawn to the wisdom of less. Recently, I've been captivated by Pablo Picasso's "Le Taureau" (The Bull) series—a masterclass in the power of reduction that offers profound insights for our cluttered modern lives.
The Bull: Picasso's Journey to Essence
Created between December 1945 and January 1946, "Le Taureau" consists of eleven lithographs that document Picasso's systematic deconstruction of a bull's form. The series begins with a realistic, detailed rendering of a robust bull, complete with texture, shading, and anatomical accuracy. With each subsequent lithograph, Picasso strips away detail after detail, reducing the animal to increasingly simplified forms.
By the final image, the bull has been distilled to just a few essential lines—a masterpiece of minimalism that somehow captures the bull's power and essence more effectively than the detailed original. What remains is not a lesser bull, but rather the most essential bull—its fundamental "bullness" expressed through absolute economy of form.
Picasso himself described this process:
"A picture is not thought out and settled beforehand. While it is being done it changes as one's thoughts change. And when it is finished, it still goes on changing, according to the state of mind of whoever is looking at it."
What strikes me most about this series is that Picasso didn't start with simplicity—he arrived there through a deliberate process of elimination, discerning what was truly essential from what was merely embellishment. The bull's essence remained intact even as its representation was reduced to bare essentials.
This artistic journey offers a compelling metaphor for our own lives. How much of what fills our days is genuinely essential to our happiness and purpose? What might we discover if we began thoughtfully subtracting rather than constantly adding?
Relationships: Quality Over Quantity
In Picasso's bull, each line in the final iteration carries more significance precisely because there are fewer of them. Similarly, I've begun to consider how I might deepen my most meaningful connections by thoughtfully reducing the overall number of relationships I actively maintain.
This isn't about abruptly cutting off people, but rather about recognizing and deepening connections with those who truly enrich my life. It means being more intentional about new social commitments, creating healthy boundaries around draining social obligations, and giving undivided attention to those who matter most.
By applying the principle of reduction, I hope to discover that fewer, deeper connections might actually constitute a richer social life than many superficial ones.
Mental Space: Clearing the Canvas
Perhaps the most important application of Picasso's reductive approach is to our inner landscape. The mental clarity I seek resembles the final bull in Picasso's series—clean, essential, and unburdened by excess. To move toward this clarity, I want to embrace several intentional practices in my daily life.
Central to this journey is my commitment to the five daily prayers in Islam. These moments of salah provide structured pauses throughout my day, creating sacred spaces where I can disconnect from worldly concerns and reconnect with what truly matters. Each prayer serves as a conscious reset—an opportunity to release the mental clutter that accumulates and return to a state of essential awareness and gratitude. The rhythmic movements and recitations ground me in the present moment, naturally clearing away unnecessary thoughts.
Perhaps most transformative has been learning the power of "no." I've come to understand that each commitment, each obligation, each distraction I accept is not merely an addition to my schedule but a subtraction from my mental capacity. Saying "no" has become an act of honoring what matters most—a recognition that my attention, like Picasso's canvas, has limited space and deserves to be reserved for what is truly essential. This boundary-setting isn't selfish but necessary, allowing me to be fully present for my most important relationships and responsibilities.
Overall, I'm discovering that there's an art to subtraction—a creativity in reduction that can reveal what matters most. In a culture that celebrates more, bigger, and busier, choosing less becomes a radical act of reclaiming what's essential.