Most people know him simply as Picasso. Some know him as Pablo Picasso. But his actual full name? Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso. Yes, that's 23 words. No, his parents weren't trying to set a record.

This wasn't just creative excess. It was Andalusian tradition meeting family devotion, where every name told a story.

Why So Many Names?

In 19th-century Spain, particularly in Andalusia where Picasso was born in 1881, it was customary to honor saints, godparents, and relatives through a child's baptismal name. Each name in Picasso's string served a purpose:

Pablo honored his paternal uncle, Canon Pablo Ruiz Picasso, who had died in 1878
Juan Nepomuceno was after his godfather, a family friend and lawyer
María de los Remedios honored his godmother
Saints' names like Cipriano and Francisco de Paula provided spiritual protection
Ruiz y Picasso were his father's and mother's surnames respectively

The "y" (meaning "and") connected his paternal and maternal family names, another Spanish tradition.

Birth Certificate vs. Baptism: The Plot Thickens

Here's where it gets interesting. Picasso's birth certificate and baptismal record actually show slightly different names. His birth certificate lists him as Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz Picasso—already a mouthful, but missing a few elements.

The baptismal record adds "Crispín" (or "Crispiniano" in some sources) and "María de los Remedios," along with "Alarcón y Herrera." Crispín Crispiniano references the two shoemaker saints whose feast day falls on October 25—Picasso's birthday.

Different sources cite different versions, but they all agree: this was one spectacular name.

The Name He Actually Used

Despite this magnificent moniker, Pablo Ruiz y Picasso initially signed his early works "P. Ruiz" or "P. Ruiz Picasso," following his father's surname as was customary for a Spanish son. But around 1901, he made a pivotal decision: he dropped "Ruiz" entirely and signed his works simply "Picasso"—his mother's maiden name.

Why? His mother's surname was more distinctive, more memorable, and frankly, more artistic-sounding than the common "Ruiz." It was a branding decision that would echo through art history. Imagine if we knew him today as "Pablo Ruiz."

Not Just Picasso

Long names weren't unique to Picasso in Spanish culture, though his became the most famous. This tradition continues today in modified form—many Spanish-speaking people still carry two surnames (paternal and maternal), though the strings of baptismal given names have largely fallen out of fashion.

For Picasso, that 23-word name became a fun fact that outlived even his revolutionary cubist paintings in popular trivia. It appeared in his official documents, though he rarely used it in daily life. Can you imagine filling out forms?

In the end, the man with 23 words in his name became known worldwide by just one. Picasso. Sometimes less really is more—except when you're naming a Spanish baby in 1881.

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