The Greatest Mystery Of All Is Reality.

The World Is Rather Shot To Pieces [end Of World War Ii - 1945], But The Spectators Climb Out Of Their Caves And Pretend To Have Again Become Normal And Customary Humans Who Ask Each Other's Pardon Instead Of Eating One Another Or Sucking Each Other's Blood. The Entertaining Folly Of War Evaporates, Distinguished Boredom Sits Down Again On The Dignified Old Overstuffed Chairs.. .may I Report About Myself That I Have Had A Truly Grotesque Time, Brim-full With Work, Nazi Persecutions, Bombs, Hunger, And Again And Again Work - In Spite Of Everything [a. O. Using His Bed Sheets As Canvas For The New Paintings].

It Was So Wonderful Outside That Even The Wild Senselessness Of This Enormous Death, Whose Music I Hear Again And Again, Could Not Disturb Me From My Great Enjoyment!

Politics Is A Subordinate Matter; Its Form Of Appearance Constantly Changes Depending On The Needs Of The Masses, The Same Way Cocottes Adjust To The Needs Of Men By Transforming And Masking Themselves. Because Of That It Is Not Fundamental. That Is About What Endures, What Is Unique, What Is In The Stream Of Illusions - What Is Eliminated From The Workings Of The Shadows.

I Think Only Of Objects: Of A Leg Or An Arm, Of The Wonderful Sense Of Foreshortening, Breaking Through The Plane, Of The Division Of Space, Of The Combination Of Straight Lines In Relation To Curved Ones.

The Individual Representation Of The Object, Treated Sympathetically Or Antipathetically, Is Highly Necessary And Is An Enrichment To The World In Form. The Elimination Of The Human Relationship Causes The Vacuum Which Makes All Of Us Suffer In Various Degrees - An Individual Alteration Of The Details Of The Object Represented Is Necessary In Order To Display On The Canvas The Whole Physicals Reality.