Georg Baselitz - Destruction and Order

(Text to exhibition A75 from 8.12.07 until 28.6.08)

The complete oeuvre of the painter, draughtsman and sculptor Georg Baselitz is characterised by intellectual determination and the pertaining radicalness of the pictorial implementation of ideas considered true once and for all. It is, however, also characterised by creative impatience and emotional enjoyment of risk. Those who have been following his work for some time will have witnessed surprising breaks, discontinuing turns and forward-looking strategies such as the decision of around 2005, to paint new and different versions of paintings originally created decades ago. Before that, he already had made a series of recollective paintings after old family photographs and his own drawings done when he was a child. Beside his “Russenbilder” (Pictures of Russians), images which paraphrase icons of Socialistic Realism with irony, he created the series of paintings and drawings called “Remix”1, which he himself judges to be the logical result of retrospective research. His subjects are placed on canvas left white, generously framing them in a passe-partout, as “this has a more declared and elevated, more conscious effect (...), now I take completely clear colours which also show their meaning, very unambiguously, directly.”2 These new creations present themselves to the viewer as  less aggressive, even orderly versions of their models, reduced to shades of black and grey or in fresh colours, designed, according to Baselitz, in a “more conceptual and straight” manner.3 One immediately feels the vehemence of access and the velocity in which the canvases – lying on the floor – were painted. These “Remix”-paintings, in which one will find both sentimental and gestures of (self-) irony, allow us to expect a stringent further development of an individual, vital and non-melancholic late work of the artist developing from within itself – remakes, astonishing and inspiring pictorial solutions included.

When Georg Baselitz, who grew up in the Oberlausitz (Upper Lusatia), left the DDR in 1958 after having been expelled from the “Hochschule für Bildende und Angewandte Künste” (Academy for the Plastic and Applied Arts) in East Berlin for “socio-political immaturity”, he exchanged the isolation he had felt there for another one in the West, continuing his studies with the abstract painter Hann Trier at the Charlottenburg “Hochschule für Bildende Künste” (Academy of Plastic Arts). Formally frozen Tachism and Abstract Expressionism dominated the Western art scene. The reduction of narrative elements and the concentration on the treatment of the coat, the “skin” of colours were the sole elements to stand in for the relevance of types of art seen as avant-garde. Realistic depictions of environment or surrealistic designs did not match this theoretical prerequisite and were left aside in the aesthetic discourse. Seen from today’s view, it missed reality completely – also for political reasons – as the figurative lived on undisturbed. The young artist did not want to give in to the doctrine of abstraction in the same way he had found it impossible for him to accept the rules of Socialist Realism. He searched and found his sources and models in the works of outsiders, literati and painters he had to feel attached to because of the situation he then found himself in. He made himself familiar with poets like Antonin Artaud, Charles Baudelaire, and the Comte de Lautréamont (Isidore Ducasse), and studied the art of Wols, Jean Fautrier, Ferdinand von Rayski, Michail Wrubel, Gustave Moreau, August Strindberg, Carl Fredrik Hill and Ernst Josephson. Baselitz eagerly gobbled up all those thoughts he hadn’t had any access to in the DDR. He was fascinated by persons, texts and images which broke with conventions, named the uneasy, feeding from the depths of their inner selves, excluded themselves, yet or because of all this being out of reach of any zeitgeist perception. From the point of view of subject matter, his readings influenced two written programmatic manifestos, which Baselitz wrote together with his friend Eugen Schönebeck. They composed a kind of staccato catalogue of visions of what they wanted to paint. In the early Sixties a number of paintings were created, which were regarded as extremely provocative and taboolesp. Their motifs alluded to crude sexuality, vulnerability, mania and death. Sinister, earthen, blunt, yet cunningly hued colourism and nervous brushwork characterised the paintings, done concurrently. The demonic “Idole” (Idols), the psychological and imaginary “Rayski-Köpfe” (Rayski heads), vegetative and landscape motifs and wounded, meaty and wreathy limbs, pronouncedly and in a bizarre way presenting the broken body of man. “Lumpiness, over-closures, proud flesh. Somehow tropisms of the elementary (...) it is something like an automatism of the hands, confronted with what has happened, with what has been felt of the figure and the special image, to leave behind pictures narrowly escaping the role model of the chaotic.”4

A stay at the Florence Villa Romana in 1965 made Baselitz look into the arts of Italy, especially mannerism, and prints of the 16th Century, there again the Ecole de Fontainebleau. This provided an experience important for the times to come. Having returned, he developed the figure of the “Neuer Typ” (New type) in his Berlin studio. The uprooted, introverted partisans, hunters and shepherds with small heads, mighty bodies and oversized phalli now inhabit his canvasep. Ragged persons, both martial and helpless, burdened with symbolic objects, which are meant to tell something about what they are doing, like in the “cries” and rank prints of the past, showing the barkers and the professionp. They carry blemished flags or wheel-barrows, knapsacks, ploughs, and crossep. Walking over scorched earth, they are, from their character, subjects of romanticism, implemented through mannerist methods, over-exaggeration and relinquishing formal congruence. Crude in concept, their details are treated with subtle care, and Baselitz already shows himself, with his “heroes”, to be a great colourist, who knew how to achieve refined effects with a limited palette.  We are confronted with images of imposing singularity, as Werner Schmalenbach said, “hardier, maybe, than everything else then being produced on the Old Continent, if you leave Francis Bacon aside, who was a lot older than that rebel from Berlin.”5 Baselitz wrote yet another manifesto, on the most excellent two-figure painting of this period, “Die großen Freunde” (The big friends) of 1965, presenting two gigantic, dynamic “hero”-figures in midst a devastated, black smouldering backdrop, wreaths of smoke hovering over it and birds flying through the air. Self assured he wrote that “this ideal image, a gift of God, was impossible to evade.” It was “up and doing healthily and full of spirit, because it doesn’t contain any contradicting characteristics: (...) gingerbread moulds, playful tendencies, pictorial writing. (...) Opulent growth, confectionery, pompous pathos, comical grotesque, auricular style (...), things crippled, mutilated, hideous (...) disrespect for space, loss of composition; linear, flat, fragmentary nonsense, softening of physiognomy.”6 This painting has to be understood not only as a work unifying in itself subjectively stated figurativeness and revolutionary concept in the sense of a way of painting heralding the new at the same time keeping tradition alive, but also a signal in the spirit of the times for a revolting youth.

Like the series of the “Frakturbilder” (Fractured images) begun somewhat later – in which he fragmented the motif and rearranged the cut-up parts in the manner of a stripe pattern – the “heroes” of Baselitz reflect German past and his own youthful experiences in the times immediately after the war, when he witnessed destruction, fire, isolation, fear and flight with his own eyep. Just as it happened in the later family-portraits of the Nineties, he allowed himself sensitive retrospection, however less explicit and reduced to ornamental details like in the folk art of his homeland. He said that when he painted something it would always include a piece of the past, “because past is simply not something unknown, rather it is what’s known, what has been lived through and which just also possesses a sentimental charge, a sentimental energy.”7

Georg Baselitz had already irritatingly alienated figurative elements in his “Frakturbilder”, question gravity and equilibrium of his subject matter, loosening the tectonic corporeality of his “hunters” accompanied by animals, “painters”, “lumberjacks”, “cows” and “dogs”, letting them fly through the air as dissected and battered segmentp. Towards the end of the Sixties he decided to take the most decisive step for his work by turning his motifs upside down. That, however, was not done in a conceptual matter like done by Piero Manzoni, who, with his “Socle du monde” (1961) didn’t take any less than the whole world to have it stand on its head as a free-standing sculpture by putting up an upside-down plinth. But it is quite sure that it was an act conscious of the globally abstract-conceptual designs, the intellectual substance of which was at the same time the focus of attention of both Gerhard Richter and Sigmar Polke articulating themselves in Düsseldorf, revolutionizing the practices and modalities of figurative art in a different way compared to Baselitz. He hoped to be able to free himself from his dependence on his motifs by turning them upside down and to concentrate on the process of painting and the elaboration of pictorial systemp. He stripped bare his motif of anything associative and anecdotal without having to forsake the methods of figurative art. He led the viewer to see what was of prime importance to the painter, the quality of his painting, showing itself by way of form, pastose (thick paste) or near-transparent coats of colour substance, innovative ciphers, emphatic compositions and so forth. This also includes the character of matter, the treatment of the surface, the size and format of the painting supporting the assertion, the sensual consistence, and, finally, the evident courses of the brushwork, defining the artist’s handwriting. “Imagine a painting being done: You take a brush of a certain size – one, two or ten centimetres – you dip it into the colour and you start distributing it over the canvap. You have to think about how you want to do it. You can dab it, you can circle it, you can coat, coat in parallel. Al these different ways of going about it rest on decisions and have their principles.”8 It is obvious that painting itself is replacing the motif. In the process of creation Baselitz discards pictorial thought, ignores the triggering moment and finds new form through dissolution and destruction. ”A motif standing on its head is apt for painting, because it is inept or neutral as an object. Furthermore, this method is full of irritation, and shocking; it shows an aggressive attitude, which I like as a demonstration of the seriousness of my approach.9 And he added, in a different text: “Turning the motif upside down provided my freedom to look into the subject of the problems of painting.10 He had never “painted figuratively in the traditional, i. e. illustrative sense anyway. Even if one can see objects in my paintings, they rather characterize a special type of image: The still life, the nude, the portrait, the landscape. I have made use of traditional genres, but in a completely new way.”11 He conquered a realm of subjects he had been avoiding before. A forest recalling Ferdinand von Rayski, “Wald auf dem Kopf” (Forest upside down), a dog, or portraits of people from his circle of friends, songbirds and landscapes, all painted after photographs, served as motifs, “absolutely irrelevant, without ambition”.12 The hitherto subdued palette became lighter in the 70s and working with brush and knife was almost completely exchanged for dynamic, impetuous painting with the whole hand and single fingerp. Thus the sensuality of dealing with the pure matter of colour was underlined and resulted in a free and easy organisation of the pictorial plane in his images of ospreys, landscapes, interiors and nudes, classical motifs altogether. This unadulterated process, combined with the reversal of the motifs was able to promote the realisation of a kind of absolute painting, because attention became focussed on the act of creation and conventional associations of meaning were set aside.

In 1983 Georg Baselitz painted a large canvas, dominated by shining pink and blue and black, called “Nachtessen in Dresden” (Nighttime meal in Dresden), formally conceived as a hefty and dramatic rendition of the Last Supper. It follows, by way of composition,  Emil Nolde’s picture “Pfingsten” (Whitsun) of 1909 and it also resumes the penetrative and garish  colouring. In those years Baselitz created a number of series on Biblical subjects, a source, which had been of prime existential importance for the expressionistp. The paintings were not, however, striving for a Christian analysis, rather he used them as attempts at solving self-chosen painterly problems: experiments with figures, symbols, and constellationp. The same is true for the series on the apocryphal “Abgar”-Legend in the 80s and the series created in the late 90s showing female figures swinging in space and communicating with angelic children saints from Slavonic folk art. Baselitz hinted at his sources by adding floral ornaments.

With his “Nachtessen” he built a bridge to the Dresden artist group “Die Brücke” and thus admitted that they were important for his own work. The central figure of Christ was exchanged for a hideous portrait of Karl Schmitt-Rottluff, opposed to an obviously vehemently arguing Kirchner and the heads of Heckel and Otto Mueller, growing out of his own body, all this before a backdrop of interlaced planep. In the painting “Brückechor” (Brücke choir), executed a few months later, a formally significant and in respect to subject matter important element is the head of Edvard Much, hovering between the Dresden painterp. He also shows a rounded mouth, opened for singing, but also reminiscent of the open mouth in Munch’s “Der Schrei” (The scream). More than two decades later he painted “The Bridge Ghost’s Supper”, quoting the “Nachtmahl”. The big difference is that the table is omitted, the artists are shown in full length and that the figure of Otto Mueller was exchanged for a central portrait of Munch. Kirchner is characterised by a piked helmet raising his arm to a well-known salute. A participant in the Great War, he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and became sick. The protagonists, or, rather, their phantoms, are wearing stylish azure suits and half-boots with oversized spurs – a detail which may be reminiscent of Radebeul near Dresden, the home of Karl May, whose books of adventurous fiction Baselitz has read. He also alluded to May in his horse-watercolours of 2002. Both the gait of the persons and their physiognomy have totally changed. A latent tension discernible in the 1983 version has given way to an introverted offhandedness, visible in the body-language. The portraits of the “ghosts” have been modelled upon photographs and are clearly recognisable.

Georg Baselitz has often refused to be called an expressionist, because he know “how much one can see the tumultuousness of production in my art. But this tumultuousness isn’t there before work begins, it’s an ecstasy of success, not a flush of emotion.”13 He stressed also that historic expressionism, whose protagonists, paving its way, threw established concepts mercilessly overboard for the love of the archaic, wasn’t any role model for him. It is just that he had, rather early, voiced his interest in the work of the Finnish member of “Die Brücke”, Akseli Gallén-Kallelap.14 He criticised that the expressionists used painting “to illustrate the environment and make political commentaries.”15 Also the latent interpretation of motifs, creatures and things in psychological terms in expressionism probably put him off. The expressionists’ connecting to an ideal of natural nativeness remained alien to him. This makes his homages to the founders of  “Die Brücke” and to their estimated artist Munch all the more astonishing. Much has also figured in solos in Baselitz’s work since 1982, as a demonstrative and generalising parable of existential moments of an artist’s life, modelled on the old age portraits of the sick and hermetically isolated artist. Baselitz “radicalises”16 the painterly findings of Munch in his sense. He tautens form, sacrifices details for the benefit of a flat cover and he also acuminates the symbolicalness of the representation. Baselitz  senses “a dependence on Munch and Schmitt-Rottluff, high esteem for Kirchner and understanding for Heckel.”17 The admiration for Munch’s existence and painting, the central subject of which man’s inner conflict, and the problematisation of his social life is immediately understandable, all the more so because there are certain parallel traits in his own oeuvre – the circulating brushwork, for instance. In an interview with Dieter Koepplin on the work of Munch he stressed his reservations against elements which must be seen as the heirloom of Art Nouveau, but, on the other hand, also the “nervousness, an aggression, a tension comparable to that in the paintings of the mentally ill, something terribly naïve and ripping: It’s tearing all the time.” And about the landscapes with trees he said: “There wasn’t any reason, from the material point of view, to paint that. Rather the wild circles, which you couldn’t ‘see’, provided the spur for the painting.”18 There are also formal similarities such as the positioning of the heads in the lower third or the lower half of the canvas, counteracting the balance, and they appealed to Baselitz. Also the necessary isolation in the studio: “You can only paint in the sole contact with the canvas (...) inventions, new images, are only possible through concentrated intellectual work.”19 It is less the styles of Munch or Kirchner which influence Baselitz, rather their mindset as artists, their self-chosen position as misfits, their loneliness fascinate him. Just like it is embedded in the relevant biographical hints to artists of the late 19th Century ad the manneristp.  In relation to Ernst Ludwig Kirchner there is an affinity which can be traced in Baselitz’ work for years on end: “If one of my paintings is orange-red, red, or black and blue, it may eventually be called “Deutsche Schule” (German School) and it will contain an unambiguous reference to Kirchner. You cannot ever interpret such a choice in terms of mood.”20 Then there are the distinct parallels in the drawings of both artists, although, like Günter Gercken ascertains, they differ completely in their intentions, as the art of Baselitz, much in contrast to Kirchner’s, is not figurative, and he “(develops) the drawing out of itself as a structure absorbing the motif. The variation of form differs from the tightening pictorial language of the expressionists, as it reaches from the extreme reduction of the pictorial signs to mannerist embellishments and floridity.”21 Method and intention visible in notations and abbreviations which Kirchner – he wasn’t much of a “copyist of nature”22 either – called “hieroglyphs” are in some respect comparable, and what the expressionist wrote under the pseudonym of Louis de Marsalle in order to directly explain his own work, could have been coined to describe Baselitz’s style of drawing: “The image is made up not only from the lines and the forms they create, but also by the parts of the picture left untouched. All these structures are by themselves not depictions of certain objects, it is only by their position, size and their relations to the others on the pictorial plane that they acquire a distinct meaning. The constitute hieroglyphs in the sense that they turn natural forms into simpler flat ones (...) They aren’t hieroglyphs in the traditional sense of the word, meaning that a certain form is used to denote always the same object or concept (...) Feeling will always create new hieroglyphs, separating themselves from the initially seemingly mazy mass of lines and almost become geometrical signs (...) maybe one can see them as non-figurative, as there isn’t any object inside them in its real form or to its own end.”23 The character and the principles of Kirchner’s and Baselitz’s art of drawing are determined by a spontaneous grasp of sensory impressions, by observations and sensations and the agitated speed of the working process, which goes together with circumspect deliberation. Their drawings share the equally sensible and idiosyncratically tightening language of ciphers, a determined contouring, a logical and calculated fastening of seemingly diffuse, many-layered lines, and a compression of hatchingp. A penchant towards mannerist distortion, a disposition to shift perspectives and the courage to accept the void, they all characterise the intuitively hectic notations of both artistp. The draughtsmen, however, never lose their grip on basic principles of composition, to which they subordinate their energetic pictorial signs which seem so close to psychogramp. Kirchner, and the other “Brücke”-artists with him, early understood the ground-breaking importance of “primitive”, Non-European sculpture, at the same time as Picasso. They knew these objects from the Ethnological Museums in Dresden and Berlin, and Kirchner became famous as a connoisseur and collector of such objectp. The experiences with those exotic sculptures are persistently reflected in both artists’ sculptural oeuvre. Kirchner was convinced that in every tree there was a sculpture waiting to be let out, so he opposed the methods of other sculptors working with clay and plaster as he found them to be “non-artistic”. He preferred to create his figures “directly from the material”.24 The bodies of the wooden sculptures by Kirchner often are smooth and polished, in others he left traces of carving as an artistic element. Baselitz began, around 1980, and also “driven by the desire for monumentality”,25 to carve the form of his sculptures directly from the block, striking the axe, cutting with the knife, using chainsaw and broach. He respects  the original substance of the block, at the same time making use of it and vehemently having a go at it, and always the traces of his intervention as an elementary event remain to be seen. Both peintre-sculpteurs set colourful accents, in order to – as Kirchner said – “highlight the plastic idea (...) There are heads with painted-on eyes and mouth, in order not to disturb the great form. This results in strange effectp. The colourful splendour of mediaeval sculptures seems to rise again, only that Modern Artists, in contrast to the Old Masters, treat colour in a completely different way.”26 The traits of colour on the raw wood of Baselitz’s voluminous idols and fragments, however, have a more marking character and are being relativised by the following treatment, jags and chippings, while Kirchner partially painted his sculptures in the sense of the traditional setting of colour.

The figurative sculptures of Baselitz, whose becoming is accompanied by copious series of drawings, impress by way of the nativeness of their formal language, their reduction to the basics and the courage to vouch for the larger-than-life size, which underlines the model character of these rigid and angular archetypep. They are near to Kirchner, again, because of their “obligation to the body (...), their sensibility for the libidinous nature and the fears of man, for his greed and tenderness in the urge to symbolically raise everyday experience to a higher level.”27 But Baselitz’s chapped and craggy sculptures generally differ from Kirchner, as there is impact in the fragments, provocation in the grotesque, something wilfully primitive and destructive. At the same time he is inspired by what Kirchner described in a passage on the comprehension of plasticity of human appearance in a letter to Nele van der Velde, interpreting t as the urge “towards the origin”, “to the spiritual life that makes these forms and colourp. Then the great struggle with oneself starts, to express this in forms  and you come to your proper task.”28

Lusciously shining shades of blue, red and green, later also magenta, and time and again a deep black, extraordinary modulations and drastic complementary contrasts dominate Baselitz’s paintings since the 80s, generously designed colouristic compressions, not intended to make content clearer, rather meant to clarify structures of composition and matter, and an illusionist interpretation of space. Balanced pictorial designs originate from this dedicated language of colour, determined brushwork and a refined planar organisation like the fragmentation of pictorial space into zones on equal footing, from leaving backgrounds untouched at the edges, the insertion of unexpected free space, separation “perforations”, round “holes”29 or other abrupt changes between quieter and more spirited parts, although Baselitz’s attention attributes highest priority to instability, dissonance and disharmony: “If I paint a red dot on the left, i don’t paint it on the right, instead I choose a green one. And when I have a triangle at the upper left, I guarantee not to have one at the lower right. I arrange practically everything I’m doing according to the principles of disharmony, disequilibrium and destruction. And then the catastrophe, really the great catastrophe: Harmony comes up, just like that, every time (...) I develop (...) order through the disharmony of ornament.”30 An emblematic gestural language of the heads, arms and hands, vehement and taking in with the “heroes”, shows itself more collected in the 80s, but it is equally intensive and dominating in organising pictorial space. The figurative vocabulary of Baselitz consists of the arguing gesture; painted sounds he only sees as an element of composition. Still he cannot quite avoid that the imagination of the viewer activates them in the sense of an anecdotal interpretation, especially because the artist himself has spoken about his love for certain motifp. A painted figure or object will retain its proper characteristics despite standing upside down, and they will, defying their inversion, actively take effect from inside them. Even then, when they, according to his strategies, are being riddled and appear as a formula. Just like in the paintings which show – structured ruggedly or smoothly – naked feet or with shoes on, which were the subject in some of his series, which are all limited to a few works only. In an interview, Baselitz speaks about his strong interest in the legs of trousers and feet: “In 1962 or 1963 I painted my first legs and feet – and time and again after that. (...) Feet are my earthing; earthing is more important to me than emission. Receiving via earthing works much better with me than via antenna – I may have more to do with trolls than with angels.”31 The painter points at impressive examples of Ribera, Géricault and Guston and states that feet have a great power of expression. “Actually, a foot is an unappetising thing (...) and I find, when you need a hard subject, a foot will come in handy (...) They are chuffy, earthen, simple, and primitive.”32 Feet are seen – just like other structures – as utensils to demonstrate Baselitz’s method, single or vitalisingly multiplied in the form of a wheel symbolising change and regeneration, down to their complete dissolution in a mush of colour, mutilated or articulated ornamentally. Spirited, abstract formulations like “Liniengeschlängel bunter Farbschlingel”33 – meaning something like “linear wriggling of colourful scallywags – meshes or fields of spots and stains contracted to make more voluminous forms, they reveal themselves on looking closer, to be consequently inserted constructive elements used as building blocks for the stabilisation of the composition, and they also stress the materiality of the painterly. Grid patterns, restlessly hovering, or dabbed “all-over”-structures, added together from a tumultuous heap of spots cover female figures breaking free from dark backgrounds or capture frontally shown images of “heads” like in a net or constrict them menacingly. It is, however, in no way clear, whether the destructive influences originate in the heads or close in on them. “For Baselitz, the motif of the head is connected to the concept of an elementary beginning of painting. The ugliness of the portrait corresponds to this primal situation, but it also shows traces of the insane. (...) The head has lost his position as the domicile of thinking and is captured and deformed by the idea of protest, which has fled to grimace and scream. (...) The provocation of the portrait lies in the nullification – by Baselitz – of the frontiers between thinking and feeling, clarity and obfuscation, understanding the world and suffering from it.”34 On the one hand we have an indication of distance to the object, and on the other visual resistors boost the attention of the viewer to just that. Gestures given ornamentally and rhythmically, collaborating in dissolution and contraction, activate affects within the pictorial square, whose mood is transferred to the viewer and sustainably influences his way of seeing.

Georg Baselitz points out that he feels a strong dislike against any continuity in his oeuvre and that he is constantly trying, by changing methods, “to leave a solid basip. I cherish semi-somnolence. I imagine handicapp. I may put the canvas on the floor and refuse to see what I am doing. I disregard the plane.”35 One cannot write a survey of his life, as Baselitz, just turned 70, is constantly on the move to find fresh and unclaimed solutions without losing sight of his roots: “The fight is not yet done and over (...) the war you wage yourself as you have all those visions or objectives you once started with, and then there are always new onep. And right now there are still a number of things I am anxious to do.”36

Jürgen Schilling

Translated by Charles Rump


1 "I liked the word "to remix", as it comes from youth culture. Older people [...] may think of pesticides, when they hear the word. [...] It went like this: At first I took the decision. Then I thought about applying the colours I had chosen on to the canvas lying on the floor, right where they belonged. As thin as fast. No correctionp. No painting over or scraping off. This way of implementation doesn’t differ very much from orientating oneself by a street description.” Transl. from: Georg Baselitz, in: Heinz Norbert Jocks, Weit im abseits von allem – Ein Gespräch mit Georg Baselitz über das Remixen von Bildern, In: Georg Baselitz, Zero für den Maler, Ausstellungskatalog, Kunstverein Braunschweig, Köln 2006, p. 26

2 Georg Baselitz, in: Blick zurück nach vorn, Interview by Florian Illies, Metropol, No. 5, 2006, pp. 81 and 84

3 Georg Baselitz, see Dorothee Herrig, Wie Georg Baselitz jetzt London erobert, Die Welt, 17. September 2007

4 Theo Kneubühler, Georg Baselitz, in: Georg Baselitz – Malerei, Handzeichnungen, Druckgraphik, Ausstellungskatalog, Kunsthalle Bern, Bern 1976, p. 9

5 Werner Schmalenbach, Georg Baselitz. Ein fast privates Bekenntnis, in: Georg Baselitz, Ausstellungskatalog, Galerie Beyeler, Basel 1992, p. 7

6 Georg Baselitz, Warum das Bild "Die großen Freunde" ein gutes Bild ist, Manifest-Plakat, Galerie Rudolf Springer, 1966

7 Georg Baselitz, in: Darstellen, was ich selber bin, Georg Baselitz im Gespräch mit Éric Darragon, Frankfurt am Main und Leipzig 2001, p. 154

8 Georg Baselitz, in: Erfundene Bilder – Georg Baselitz über Edvard Munch, Derneburg, 17. März 1985, Gespräch mit Dieter Koepplin, in: Edvard Munch – Sein Werk in Schweizer Sammlungen, Ausstellungskatalog, Kunstmuseum Basel, Basel 1985, p. 154

9 Georg Baselitz, 30. November 1980, written Interview by John Hunow, Manuscript, p. 1

10 Georg Baselitz, in: Evelyn Weiss, Gespräch mit Georg Baselitz im Schloss Derneburg am 22. 6. 75, in: Georg Baselitz, Ausstellungskatalog, XIII. Bienal di São Paulo 1975, Köln 1975, p. p.

11 Georg Baselitz, in: Amine Haase, Georg Baselitz, in: Amine Haase, Gespräche mit Künstlern, Köln n. d., p. 17

12 Georg Baselitz, see note  7, p. 58

13 Wilfried Wiegand, Ohne oben und unten, Die Zeit, Nr. 17, 15. April 2004

14 "A. Gallén! Standing barefoot on festering stumps of chooped down trees, screaming in frenzy. Only now they have offered me the annual rings.  Far away I now shake drops of water off my feet. Poor A. Gallen." (Transl. from: Georg Baselitz, 2. Pandämonium, 1962, in: Georg Baselitz, hrsg. von Jürgen Schilling, Ausstellungskatalog, Kunstverein Braunschweig, Braunschweig 1981, p. 14); "Kullervo’s Beine/Füße", an fractural painting from 1967, directly refers to Gallén-Kallelas "Kullervo"-painting from his pathetic symbolist "Kalevala series" (1897-99; Ateneum, Helsinki)

15 Georg Baselitz, see note 11, p. 18

16 Günther Gercken, Maler mit Fäustling, 1962, in: Georg Baselitz – Das große Pathos, Ausstellungskatalog, Hamburg 2000, p. 98

17 Georg Baselitz, in: Katrin Wittneven, Wiedersehen mit alten Freunden, in: Georg Baselitz - The Bridge Ghost’s Supper, Ausstellungskatalog, Contemporary Fine Arts, Berlin 2007, p. 31

18 Georg Baselitz, see note  8, p. 145 f, 147

19 Georg Baselitz, see note  8, p. 165

20 Georg Baselitz, see note 11, p. 18

21 Günther Gercken, Der geopferte Adler, in: Georg Baselitz, Adler, Ausstellungskatalog, Galerie Buchmann, Basel, und Galerie Neuendorf, Frankfurt am Main, 1987, p. 6

22 Gustav Schiefler, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, in: Der Kreis, 5. Jg. Heft 3, März 1928, p. 164

23 Louis de Marsalle (i. e. Ernst Ludwig Kirchner), Zeichnungen von E. L. Kirchner, Genius, Jg. 1920, 2. Buch, p. 216, see E. L. Kirchners Davoser Tagebuch, ed. by. Lothar Griesebach, Köln 1968, pp. 185f und 188

24 Louis de Marsalle (d. i. Ernst Ludwig Kirchner), Über die plastischen Arbeiten von E. L. Kirchner, in: Der Cicerone, XVII. Jg., 1925, Nr. 14, see Wolfgang Henze, Die Plastik Ernst Ludwig Kirchners, Wichtrach/Bern 2002, p. 29

25 Louis de Marsalle (i. e. Ernst Ludwig Kirchner), see note 24, p. 30

26 Louis de Marsalle (i. e.. Ernst Ludwig Kirchner), see note 24, p. 30

27 Gerhard Mack, Künstliche Paradiese im Atelier, in: Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 26. Januar 2003

28 Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Undated letter to Nele van de Velde, in: Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Briefe an Nele und Henry van de Velde, München 1961, p. 21

29 "A hole in a painting makes your thoughts go round. Just like the hole in the middle of a record, the music circles around.“  Transl. from Georg Baselitz, see Werner Schade, Im Sternbild der Hunde, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 30. März 2001

30 Georg Baselitz, in: Georg Baselitz im Gespräch mit Heinz Peter Schwerfel, Kunst heute Nr. 2, Köln 1989, pp. 16 and 57

31 Georg Baselitz, see note 2, p. 86

32 Georg Baselitz, see note 7, p. 140

33 Gregor Wedekind, Protestant im Olymp, Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 1./2.Juni 1996

34 Siegfried Gohr, Georg Baselitz – Wege der Inspiration, in: Georg Baselitz – Retrospektive 1964 – 1991, Ausstellungskatalog, Hypo-Kulturstiftung, München 1992, p. 102

35 Georg Baselitz, see note 7, p. 51

36 Georg Baselitz, see note 2, p. 76f

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