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MAX ERNST -- ILLUSTRATED SCREENPLAY & SCREENCAP GALLERY |
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He looked, while I tried not to.
At last, "What do you call it?" I really haven't a title. "Then you can call it 'Birthday.'" Just like that. He had come to stay.
That we were both painters, visionaries, did not strike me at the time as anything but the happiest of coincidences.
It was so unbelievable, I told myself, "Yes. If it only lasts three weeks, it is still alright."
Why do artists remain in cities? Must they chum with collectors, attend openings, witness name-droppings in upper east and westside pastures in order to make good pictures? Good objects? Good anything?
No.
We did it the other way. In 1946, Max and I embarked for the second time on a long trip.
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