Slice of Bill’s headspace, 6/18/2011, at MOMA for the Expressionism exhibit, from my journals (themselves drawn from hastily-scrawled notes taken in the museum):
“Schiele: Drypoints. Wartime drypoints. Contortion. Figures coiled, charged. The gazes alien. Hard, cruel lines. Sorrow 1914. Self-portrait 1914. Alien. Otherworldly. Eyes heavy-lidded and blank. Heavily lashed. Languid eyes. Fritz Hauber 1914-languid again, fruit of leisure, but there is wisdom and confidence in the lips beard eyes. […] Schiele’s girls, his whores. skinny, poor, smudged, fuzzed. The hairs on the mons pubis (like razorwires) as clear and hard and sharp as is bearable. Who did he hate?”
And so on… I was unmarried, childless, and apparently humorless in 2011, but I can still close my eyes and see Schiele’s Sorrow, and it still seems important, though not so important as before, to know whether she’s disrobing or getting dressed–rising or falling? and exactly why he called it sorrow.