Cage Is Much More Disciplined. He Made

Theory Has Nothing To Do With A Work Of Art. Pictures Which Are Interpretable, And Which Contain A Meaning, Are Bad Pictures. A Picture Presents Itself As The Unmanageable, The Illogical, The Meaningless. It Demonstrates The Endless Multiplicity Of Aspects; It Takes Away Our Certainty, Because It Deprives A Thing Of Its Meaning And Its Name. It Shows Us The Thing In All The Manifold Significance And Infinite Variety That Preclude The Emergence Of Any Single Meaning And View.

In The Beginning I Tried To Accommodate Everything There That Was Somewhere Between Art And Garbage And That Somehow Seemed Important To Me And A Pity To Throw Away. After A While, Some Sheets In The Atlas Acquired Another Value, After All - That Is, It Seemed To Me That They Could Stand On Their Own Terms, Not Only Under The Protection Of The Atlas.

I Originally Came From Dresden, Where Socialist Realism Prevailed. Konrad Lueg And I Came Up With It, For The Most Part Ironically, Since I Now Live In Capitalism. It Was Certainly 'realism', But In Another Form - The Capitalist Form, As It Were. It Wasn't Meant That Seriously. It Was More A Slogan For That Particular Happening At A Furniture Store.

Well, The Beginning Is Actually Quite Easy, Because I Can Still Be Quite Free About The Way I Handle Things - Colours, Shapes. And So A Picture Emerges That May Look Quite Good For A While, So Airy And Colourful And New. But That Will Only Last For A Day At Most, At Which Point It Starts To Look Cheap And Fake. And Then The Real Work Begins - Changing, Eradicating, Starting Again, And So On, Until It's Done.

The Atlas Belongs To The Lenbachhaus In Munich - It's Long Since Ceased To Belong To Me. Occasionally I Run Across It Somewhere, And I Think It's Interesting Because It Looks Different Each Time.