Ernst Keiser, Komiktragödie-Porträt Karl Hindelang, 1921.
I have a hard time describing exactly what this painting does to me. I don’t know how to write about art —I’m not smart that way or any way. All I know is it compels me to sit and stare.
The painting at his feet, the cigarette, her grin.
Operating on instinct is the only way I know how.
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