Before she was anyone's model, Dora Maar was one of the few photographers the Surrealists admitted as one of their own. Born Henriette Théodora Markovitch in Paris in 1907 and raised partly in Buenos Aires, she ran a commercial studio with Pierre Kéfer, shot street photography in the slums of Barcelona and London, and made the movement's most reproduced photographic images — the photomontage titled 29, rue d'Astorg, with its faceless figure seated in a warped vaulted corridor, and Père Ubu, the monstrous armadillo foetus that became Surrealism's unofficial mascot at its 1936 exhibitions. Her politics were as active as her camera: she signed the anti-fascist manifestos of the mid-1930s and moved in the leftist theatre of the Groupe Octobre.
In late 1935, at Les Deux Magots, Paul Éluard introduced her to Pablo Picasso. The eight years that followed bound two bodies of work together: she found and photographed the atelier at 7 rue des Grands-Augustins where Guernica was painted, documenting the mural stage by stage in 1937 — the only such record of a Picasso masterpiece — and he painted her, over and over, as the Weeping Woman. Her verdict on those canvases, delivered years later, is the necessary caption: 'All portraits of me are lies. They're Picassos. Not one is Dora Maar.' The relationship's end left a breakdown, electroshock, treatment by Jacques Lacan, a turn to Catholic faith and to painting, and five decades of deliberate withdrawal in Paris and Ménerbes. She died in 1997; the world rediscovered the photographer in the estate sales and retrospectives that followed.