The Last Love of Jonas Salk
The first time they met, French artist Françoise Gilot seemed more interested in her salad than in Jonas Salk—somewhat embarrassing for her friend Chantal Hunt, who had insisted she join them for lunch. Chantal’s husband, John Hunt, the executive vice president of the Salk Institute, had invited Salk to their home to discuss “Institute issues.” Gilot had warned Chantal that she was tired from completing the lithograph series at the Tamarind Workshop in Los Angeles, and she needed some rest before returning to Paris. “I’m going to go have lunch at a restaurant,” she told her friend. “I don’t want to see a scientist.” Chantal said she didn’t need to talk. “Fine,” Gilot replied, “I don’t talk.”1
The next evening, Gilot accompanied the Hunts to a black-tie dinner at the Institute. Seated with other artists, she enjoyed herself. Although she didn’t notice Salk, he saw her. Later he told Françoise he found the situation curious. One day she behaved “like a lump,” he said. The next day she was “laughing like I don’t know what.” He wondered, “Who is this person?”1 So he invited Gilot to the Institute for a private tour.
Once there, this woman who had silently looked at her salad two days before began talking with great animation and sophistication, a mixture of self-confidence and femininity. Salk knew almost nothing about art, and Gilot could not converse about science, but they had one common interest, modern architecture. That was a start.
Jonas became enthralled with Françoise. He didn’t know much about her life, except that she was a successful artist, although he had seen none of her paintings, and that she had been Pablo Picasso’s mistress, although he likely had not read her best-selling memoir, Life with Picasso. The past didn’t interest Salk; he was looking to the future.
he outbreak of World War In May of 1943, Françoise had her first exhibition. Around the same time, she met Pablo Picasso. “I believe that if I had met Picasso in normal circumstances, nothing would have happened between him and myself,” she reflected.
