Notizen (Notation) [p. 32] 

Curator: So, here we have a page from Max Beckmann's sketchbook, "Notizen (Notation) [p. 32]". It's a pen and paper drawing, essentially a page filled with handwritten notes and what looks like preliminary sketches. What are your initial thoughts? Editor: Well, it feels intimate, almost like peeking into the artist’s mind. It’s a bit chaotic, a flurry of scribbles and barely legible handwriting. It reminds me of those moments right before sleep when ideas just tumble out, raw and unfiltered. There’s an energy there. Curator: Absolutely. Sketchbooks often serve as a direct window into the artistic process, particularly in the early 20th century. Beckmann, deeply enmeshed in Expressionism, would have used these personal notations to formulate the foundations for his later, more substantial works. You get a glimpse into his creative thought process, devoid of any artifice. Editor: The messiness is so appealing, though. Look at that little, ambiguous creature in the upper corner—is it a reptile? Is it roadkill? And all those hastily scribbled words, snippets of thought, a reminder that the artist's mind never sleeps, and he felt the need to capture everything. Curator: His use of language offers another layer, beyond the visual, revealing Beckmann's social context. While my grasp of German is somewhat wanting, those brief annotations can tell us of his preoccupations at any particular time. You see fragments, maybe a shopping list, an address, or just observations from the world around him. It positions Beckmann in dialogue with the rapidly changing society. Editor: I suppose it reveals that behind even the most grand artistic visions, there's a human being figuring out the grocery list and paying bills. I find myself wanting to decipher every last squiggle, to somehow access that hidden world. And ultimately the immediacy feels profound. Curator: And that inherent appeal, that rawness you spoke of, underscores the broader purpose. These intimate jottings become part of his artistic persona—not just records, but self-mythologizing acts. The act of preserving even mundane observations elevates them. Editor: Well said. I guess, in the end, it shows that art isn't just about finished masterpieces hanging in grand halls, but about those flickering moments of inspiration that lead to them. This glimpse feels incredibly genuine.