AN art critic is by definition narcissistic," says Robert Hughes, author of this week's story celebrating the career of Pablo Picasso. "His job is to argue his likes and dislikes in public, then hope that someone takes it all seriously." Hughes has not let such seemly modesty stint his output on three continents. An Australian, he began writing art criticism for a Sydney fortnightly 13 years ago; he was 20 at the time. Four years later, he wrote The Art of Australia. By the time he started contributing to our Art section last year, Hughes had published a second book, Heaven and Hell in Western Art (1968), and scores of reviews for the London Sunday Times and the Observer. His current project is a biography of Leonardo da Vinci.

For his assessment of Picasso, the maestro and the myth, Hughes drew first of all on his extensive knowledge of the artist's work. He has seen virtually all the major Picasso shows held on the Continent, in England and the U.S. during the past eight years. Our Paris bureau added human touches--insights and details of Picasso's day-to-day life gleaned from friends of the reclusive giant.

One such Picasso intimate is Photographer David Douglas Duncan, himself the subject of a recent story in TIME'S Art section (Sept. 20). It was a 1960 Duncan photograph that served as the base for an unusual Picasso self-portrait. We publish it this week along with reproductions of 68 other Picasso works. Duncan took the picture of Picasso when the artist visited Duncan's house near Cannes. Instead of merely signing the picture, as Duncan had hoped, Picasso used his crayons to give himself a black beard and an orange hat that resembles a sombrero. The effect seems to be PICASSO DRAWING OF DUNCAN self-satire.

"One thing makes it really different," says Duncan. "Picasso is squinting with laughter. Usually his eyes are deep chestnut orbs that never blink. I find it refreshing that the man who has transformed so many other figures in art sees himself with humor."

Two years after the photograph was taken, Duncan received what may well be the modern art world's ultimate honor. On his 46th birthday, Duncan was summoned to Picasso's studio. There on the artist's easel was a drawing of Duncan, right elbow raised high as he shoots a bird staring straight into the lens of his camera. "Photographers always used to say, 'Look at the birdie,' " laughed Picasso. "O.K. There's the bird, and there you are too. Happy birthday!"

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