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Learn By Heart The Forms To Be Found In Nature, So That You Can Use Them Like The Notes In A Musical Composition. That Is What These Forms Are For. Nature Is A Marvelous Chaos, And It Is Our Job And Our Duty To Bring Order Into That Chaos And - To Perfect It.

-Max Beckmann

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Learn By Heart The

Max Beckmann

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Learn By Heart The Forms To Be Found In Nature, So That You Can Use Them Like The Notes In A Musical Composition. That Is What These Forms Are For. Nature Is A Marvelous Chaos, And It Is Our Job And Our Duty To Bring Order Into That Chaos And - To Perfect It.

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What Matters Is Real Love For Things Of The World Outside Us And For The Deep Secrets Within Us.

What Is Important To Me In My Work Is The Identity That Is Hidden Behind So-called Reality. I Search For A Bridge From The Given Present Tot The Invisible, Rather As A Famous Cabalist Once Said, 'if You Wish To Grasp The Invisible, Penetrate As Deeply As Possible Into The Visible'.

Painting Constantly Appeared To Me As The One And Only Possible Achievement.

I Am Working Here (in Amsterdam) On My Last Big Triptych, Which Will Be A Tremendous Story, And Which Gives Me A More Intense Life And Exhilaration. My God, Life Is Worth Living!

What I Want To Show In My Work Is The Idea Which Hides Itself Behind So-called Reality. I Am Seeking For The Bridge Which Leans From The Visible To The Invisible Through Reality. It May Sound Paradoxical, But It Is In Fact Reality Which Forms The Mystery Of Our Existence.

Painting Is A Very Difficult Thing. It Absorbs The Whole Man, Body And Soul, Thus Have I Passed Blindly Many Things Which Belong To Real And Political Life.

What Are You? What Am I? Those Are The Questions That Constantly Persecute And Torment Me And Perhaps Also Play Some Part In My Art.

What I Want To Show In My Work Is The Idea Which Hides Itself Behind So-called Reality.

I Believe The Reason I Love Painting So Much Is That It Forces One To Be Objective.

I Have Never, God Or Whatever Knows, Prostrated Myself To Be Famous, But I Would Meander Through All The Sewers Of The World, Through All Degradations And Humiliations, In Order To Paint. I Have To Do This. Until The Last Drop Every Vision That Exists In My Being Must Be Purged; Then It Will Be A Pleasure For Me To Be Rid Of This Damned Torture

Often, Very Often, I Am Alone. My Studio In Amsterdam, (beckmann Lived In The Center Of Amsterdam During World War 2.) An Enormous Old Tobacco Storeroom Is Again Filled In My Imagination With Figures From The Old Days And From The New, Like An Ocean Moved By Storm And Sun And Always Present In My Thoughts. Then Shapes Become Beings And Seem Comprehensible To Me In The Great Void And Uncertainty Of The Space Which I Call God.

Height, Width, And Depth Are The Three Phenomena Which I Must Transfer Into One Plane To Form The Abstract Surface Of The Picture, And Thus To Protect Myself From The Infinity Of Space.

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.

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!

My Figures Come And Go, Suggested By Fortune Or Misfortune. I Try To Fix Them Divested Of Their Apparent Accidental Quality.

The Metaphysics Of Substance. The Strange Feeling Which Comes Over Us When We Sense: This Is Skin - This Is Bone - All In A Single Vision That Is Completely Unearthly. The Dreaminess Of Our Existence Mixed At The Same Time With The Indescribably Sweet Illusion Of Reality.

If You Wish To Get Hold Of The Invisible You Must Penetrate As Deeply As Possible Into The Visible.

In Principle, Any Abstraction Of The Object Is Allowed Which Has A Sufficiently Strong Creative Power Behind It.

The Greatest Mystery Of All Is Reality.

The Important Thing Is First Of All To Have A Real Love For The Visible World That Lies Outside Ourselves As Well As To Know The Deep Secret Of What Goes On Within Ourselves.

One Of My Problems Is To Find The Ego, Which Has Only One Form And Is Immortal - To Find It In Animals And Men, In The Heaven And In The Hell Which Together Form The World In Which We Live.

I Went Across The Fields To Avoid The Straight Highways, Along The Firing Lines Where People Were Shooting At A Small Wooded Hill, Which Is Now Covered With Wooden Crosses And Lines Of Graves Instead Of Spring Flowers.

One Of My Problems Is To Find The Self.

It Is, Of Course, A Luxury To Create Art And, On Top Of This, To Insist On Expressing One's Own Artistic Opinion. Nothing Is More Luxurious Than This. It Is A Game And A Good Game, At Least For Me; One Of The Few Games Which Make Life, Difficult And Depressing As It Is Sometimes, A Little More Interesting.

I Do Not Weep: I Loathe Tears, For They Are A Sign Of Slavery.

The Laws Of Art Are Eternal And Don't Change At All, As The Moral Laws Don't Change In Human Beings.

Art Is Creative For The Sake Of Realization, Not For Amusement... For Transfiguration, Not For The Sake Of Play.

Learn By Heart The Forms To Be Found In Nature, So That You Can Use Them Like The Notes In A Musical Composition. That Is What These Forms Are For. Nature Is A Marvelous Chaos, And It Is Our Job And Our Duty To Bring Order Into That Chaos And - To Perfect It.

The Stronger And More Intense My Desire Becomes To Capture And Record That Which Is Unsayable, The More Tightly My Mouth Stays Shut.

As A Painter, Cursed Or Blessed With A Terrible And Vital Sensuousness, I Must Look For Wisdom With My Eyes. I Repeat, With My Eyes, For Nothing Could Be More Ridiculous Or Irrelevant Than A 'philosophical Conception Painted Purely Intellectually Without The Terrible Fury Of The Senses Grasping Each Visible Form Of Beauty And Ugliness.

Colour, As The Strange And Magnificent Expression Of The Inscrutable Spectrum Of Eternity, Is Beautiful And Important To Me As A Painter; I Use It To Enrich The Canvas And To Probe More Deeply Into The Object. Colour Also Decided, To A Certain Extent, My Spiritual Outlook, But It Is Subordinated To Life, And Above All, To The Treatment Of Form. Too Much Emphasis On Colour At The Expense Of Form And Space Would Make A Double Manifestation Of Itself On The Canvas, And This Would Verge On Craft Work.

My Heart Beats More For A Raw, Average Vulgar Art, Which Doesn't Live Between Sleepy Fairy-tale Moods And Poetry But Rather Concedes A Direct Entrance To The Fearful, Commonplace, Splendid And The Average Grotesque Banality In Life.

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].

Love In An Animal Sense Is An Illness, But A Necessity Which One Has To Overcome.

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.

When Spiritual, Metaphysical, Material, Or Immaterial Events Come Into My Life, I Can Only Fix Them By Way Of Painting.

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.

Space, And Space Again, Is The Infinite Deity Which Surrounds Us And In Which We Are Ourselves Contained.

We Will Enjoy Ourselves With The Forms That Are Given Us: A Human Face, A Hand, The Breast Of A Woman Or The Body Of A Man, A Glad Or Sorrowful Expression, The Infinite Seas, The Wild Rocks, The Melancholy Language Of The Black Trees In The Snow, The Wild Strength Of Spring Flowers And The Heavy Lethargy Of A Hot Summer Day When Pan, Our Old Friend, Sleeps And The Ghosts Of Midday Whisper. This Alone Is Enough To Make Us Forget The Grief Of The World, Or To Give It Form.

I Hardly Need To Abstract Things, For Each Object Is Unreal Enough Already, So Unreal That I Can Only Make It Real By Means Of Painting.

I Passed Blindly Many Things Which Belong To Real And Political Life.

One Thing Is Sure - We Have To Transform The Three-dimensional World Of Objects Into The Two-dimensional World Of The Canvas.. ..to Transform Three Into Two Dimensions Is For Me An Experience Full Of Magic In Which I Glimpse For A Moment That Fourth Dimension Which My Whole Being Is Seeking.

I Am Seeking For The Bridge Which Leans From The Visible To The Invisible Through Reality.

There Is Nothing I Hate More Than Sentimentality.

All Important Things In Art Have Always Originated From The Deepest Feeling About The Mystery Of Being.

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