Author: Max Beckmann

Quotes

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 are you? What am I? Those are the questions that constantly persecute and torment me and perhaps also play some part in my art.

- Max Beckmann

I believe the reason I love painting so much is that it forces one to be objective.

I believe the reason I love painting so much is that it forces one to be objective.

- Max Beckmann

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.

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.

- Max Beckmann

Art is creative for the sake of realization, not for amusement... for transfiguration, not for the sake of play.

Art is creative for the sake of realization, not for amusement... for transfiguration, not for the sake of play.

- Max Beckmann

I believe that the reason why I love painting so much is that it forces one to be objective. There is nothing I hate more than sentimentality.

I believe that the reason why I love painting so much is that it forces one to be objective. There is nothing I hate more than sentimentality.

- Max Beckmann

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!

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!

- Max Beckmann

I passed blindly many things which belong to real and political life.

I passed blindly many things which belong to real and political life.

- Max Beckmann

Space, and space again, is the infinite deity which surrounds us and in which we are ourselves contained.

Space, and space again, is the infinite deity which surrounds us and in which we are ourselves contained.

- Max Beckmann

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