Arp, On my way

Arp, On my way

Bibliographic data

Monograph

Title:: Arp, On my way

Sub title:: poetry and essays 1912-1947

Extent:: 147 S.

Collection:: Books

Document type:: Monograph

Shelfmark:: DADA I:32

Persistent identifier:: 19503

Statement of responsibility:: Robert Motherwell

Place of publication:: New York; Zürich

Publisher:: Wittenborn, Schultz Inc.

Year of publication:: 1948

Edition:: [Electronic ed.]

Dimensions:: 25,5 x 19 cm

Language:: English; French; German

Personal subject:: Arp, Hans;Motherwell, Robert;Rand, Paul

Statement of responsibility:: Robert Motherwell

Chapter

Title:: Essays

Collection:: Books

Document type:: Monograph

Structure type:: Chapter

Chapter

Title:: A magic treasure

Collection:: Books

Document type:: Monograph

Structure type:: Chapter

52 mysterious corporeality. We should like him pray every day for dreams. The dream, which is Hugo Ball’s art, is a magic treasure; it connects man with the life of light and darkness, with real life, the real collectivity. See reproduction The black grows deeper and deeper, darker and darker before me. It men aces me like a black gullet. I can bear it no longer. It is monstrous. It is un fathomable. As the thought comes to me to exorcise and transform this black with a white drawing, it has already become a surface. Now I have lost all fear, and begin to draw on the black surface. I draw and dance at once, twisting and winding, a winding, twining, soft white flowery round. A round of snakes in a wreath . . . white shoots dart this way and that. Three of them begin to form snakes’ heads. Cautiously the two lower ones approach one another. See reproduction, [illustration 11] The magician The sale of my first relief in Paris in 1926 was black magic. The magician was Viot, the art dealer. He had ensnared D., the collector, with promising speeches about indescribable beauty, and lured him to my studio. Looking very unhappy, D. weighed my little relief, first in his left, then in his right hand. He seemed to find no objection to the weight. Around his beautiful mi ser’s neck he wore a still more beautiful necktie. 1 He twisted and fidgeted. He struggled to make up his mind. He opened his eyes wide and then wearily closed them. He opened them again and looked madly for some chance to es cape. Now was the time to be on our guard. He really seemed about to seek safety in flight. With ruffled crest, Viot swaggered round his victim. He bragged and boasted of his incomparable knowledge of the arts. D. groaned: “Five hundred francs is a lot of money for a little piece of wood!” Viot did not lessen his efforts. Now it was the dark and mysterious that filled his sails. His eyes gleamed like two magic lanterns. His eloquence became more and more daemonic until at length D. collapsed in a chair and handed Viot the five hundred francs. 1. Geizhals, literally “avarice neck,” is German for skinflint.

Access restriction

Copyright

fullscreen: Arp, On my way

Monograph

Chapter

Chapter

Table of contents

Downloads

Full record

This page

Image fragment

Formats and links

Formats

Links

Cite

Full record

This page

Citation recommendation