in the customary requirements are less noticeable. Corinth takes objects which otherwise exist only in name, religious stuffs, ancient legends, episodes from history. And in such pictures the brush stroke on the palette is by no means the important thing which enlivens the object; but it is the pictorial, and this has the power of safeguarding the object. Impressionism, Expressionism, Cubism, Futurism—as different as all these movements may be, they have one thing in common: the fear of the object. Flatteringly or with vehemence, the motif is removed. The opposing tendency does not make Corinth a narrator of things which are to be looked at. Rather, the object is naturalized. A crucifixion of Corinth's is no picture puzzle; but so very much a crucifixion that the observer can feel a shudder. At times the observer is crucified also. This primitive has kept the faculty for such experiences; he experiences them with the intensity of Grünewald. At times his experiences are from the immediate vicinity; then details occur which are of unbearable crudity. At times he sees from a distance; and then gripping legends are produced. The same primitive has painted the most beautiful modern landscapes outside of France They have an Impressionism of his own invention which does not admit of any formulas. They are the landscapes of an outsider. The almost scientific apparatus of our contemporary specialists breaks down before this concentrated reality.
For some years Corinth's pedestal has been growing noticeably, and even in his lifetime his position in history is foreshadowed. A German who has none, or hardly any, of the usual ready-to-hand national attributes: no simpleness nor joviality, no depth of thought—a crude maker of representations, such as Grünewald was. The epithet "metaphysical" must be brought in, since Corinth, like Grünewald, represents without any noticeably specific background. If Cézanne had the notion of repeating Poussin in nature, one could call the German a Grünewald "refait sur nature."
None of the younger men even approaches him in scope. Nearly all of them need anchoring in the deep foundations of the race; the lack of tradition makes painting restless. The influence of Maillol has made for a certain tradition in the plastic arts. It had been deepened by Lehmbruck, the only German sculptor of rank since Gottfried Schadow. He was not content with the mild static of graceful roundness which is so seldom adapted to the German
