With Lowered Eyelids

     I let myself be guided by my work and I trust it fully.  I never
reflect.  As I work, friendly, strange, evil, inexplicable, mute, or
sleeping forms arise.  They take shape on their own.  I seem merely
to motion.  We should show gratitude and amazement in welcoming the
light and the darkness sent to us by "chance."  "Chance," which guides
our hands when we tear up paper, and the figures that result from this,
reveal mysteries, deeper events of life.  The chance interruption and
postponement of a work will later turn out to have been timely.  It is
an essential action during the genesis of a work.  "Blind choice" of a
color often gives a picture its vibrant heart.
     
     The content of a sculpture has to come forward on tiptoe, unpre-
tentious and as light as the spoor of an animal in snow.  Art has to
melt into nature.  It should even be confused with nature.  But this
should be attained not by imitation but by the opposite of naturalistic
copying on canvas or stone.  Art will thus rid itself more and more of
selfishness, virtuosity, and foolishness.

     All one has to do is lower one's eyelids, and inner rhythm will 
pass purer through the hand.  In a dark room the flow of inner motion
is easier to control.  The great artist of the Stone Age knew how to
conduct the thousand voices singing within him.  The drawing thus loses
all its opacity and thus the harmonics, the pulsation, the repetitions,
and the metaphor of the melody become the rhythm of a deep breath.

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