On Max Ernst

By far the most frequently asked question is - are you really a relative to the famous surrealist painter Max Ernst? Or this one - did you ever meet him in person?

The first answer is yes, the second no. He died in 1976, five years after I was born, so there is no way I could have met him or would have had any form of memory of an encounter like that. 

My very first memory in connection to Max Ernst is my grandfather. We were often invited to my grandparents house after school to have lunch and my grandfather Leo used to play funny catching games with my older brother, while I was a guest in my grandma's kitchen peeking into pots and pans inhaling the amazing smells of fried pork or wobbling jelly pudding in small glass bowls. One afternoon my grandfather went down to the cellar and came back with an enormous pile of books, smelling moist and important. Handing me them with a very serious expression on his face and explaining to me that these were books about his famous painting cousin, who had lived in France and the USA. Recalling this encounter I can clearly see how much my grandpa’s attitude impressed me. The handing over had something holy and secretive to it. Looking back I wonder if my grandfather wanted me to have the books because he hoped I would continue the family tradition. And I can clearly remember my grandmother telling me over and over again, that I would be the one out of seven grandchildren who would „make it“. Although I did not clearly understand what „it“ was, back then. 

The books were monographs of Max Ernst's body of work and his life. And I remember this afternoon so crisp and clear, because Max Ernst, in our family, was never really a subject of conversation rather than a subject of whispers and rumors. He was not religious, he had left his huge family in Germany and he lived abroad with a harem of women. Very disrespectful and a matter of shame. 

My next memory linked to him is my grandfather talking about a huge retrospective of Max Ernst work in our home town in the museum of modern art. He said to some of his relatives in a bitter and cynical tone: „I will not go there and meet him as some sort of poor and unimportant family member.“ You have to know that he looked quite similar to Max Ernst himself and he would have been clearly identified at an official event as a relative to his cousin. My grandfather was obviously very bitter to have chosen the path of an „ordinary everyday man“, working as a graphic designer and illustrator and caring for his wife and three children. Not belonging to this „bohemian art world“ was a bitter pill for him to swallow. Every birthday my grandfather  invited one of his friends from work, a famous and very wealthy fashion photographer who owned a villa nearby with a pool and who lived surrounded by young female models which grew younger year by year. 

When in 1991 Peter Schamonis' documentary about Max Ernst was shown on the silver screen for the very first time, I think I recall my aunt and my grandma going together to the cinema and having a conversation afterwards. „This is all fine“, said my grandma at our next family gathering,“but they did not show all these years of hunger and despair.“ Unfortunately I was too young to understand, or ask the right questions back then. The moment passed and now, most of them are gone. 

What is quite interesting is that I felt naturally drawn to surrealist paintings from a very early age, without knowing that one of our relatives had been a surrealist painter himself. I hoarded books about Salvador Dali and was very much into fantasy films and Croatian surrealist painters at that time. Looking back I ask myself if it was always evident that I would become an artist and a painter and the answer is - most likely yes. 

I have visited two single exhibitions of Max Ernst so far and both were impressive, although I would not state that Max Ernst is one of my idols in painting and to be frank none of my role models. The first one I did see at an age of 20 and then the next one in 2009. 

As we left the exhibition, my husband and I spent some time in the coffee bar & book shop area and I browsed through a couple of books dedicated to his work. I can not clearly recall which one it was, maybe a catalog published by the Max Ernst foundation in Brühl, when I did read about the owners of several paintings in this book and realized that Peter Schamoni was not only one of the close friends to Max Ernst, but he was also the owner of quite a number of originals and was still alive. I drove back from the exhibition with an idea emerging. I would try to contact him, as I clearly did understand that nobody in our family really knew Max Ernst in person and that Schamoni not only had met him, but also spent quite some time with him in his studio in France to produce three films. 

Long story short, I did write a letter to the publishing house adding the plea that they should hand my letter to Peter Schamoni, in which I did ask him if he would be willing to meet with me and talk about his friendship with Max Ernst. To my huge surprise he came back to me quite quickly, asking me when I would stay in Munich the next time and would be able to meet him. 

We met a couple of weeks later. I ordered a taxi, as it was quite late that evening and as he lived in the outskirts of Munich in a very elegant suburb, far away from the next available bus stop or tube station. He welcomed me warmly. The 1960s villa was crammed with posters and film material, art books, light tables and slides as well as a couple of large wooden transport boxes, which he told me had just returned from an exhibition in Brühl. 

He said that he immediately had been willing to meet me, because it looked like I was not only a gifted painter but a writer as well. He stressed the tone of my letter and mentioned that my ancestor had also had an interesting gift for writing. Later I found out that Max Ernst had left a serious body of written work, including a novel in addition to his paintings.

He invited me out to dinner, to his beloved Italian restaurant and we drove there in his amazing old sports Jaguar car. The chef himself welcomed us, the moment we entered the front door and guided us to our table. It was a lovely evening with a spark of Hollywood elegance and taste of fame. It would be a lie if I told you, I did not enjoy every single moment. We talked all evening. He told me about Max Ernst's grandchildren living in the US, working as painters and trying to catch up with their grandfather's fame. We talked about family and Max Ernst's marriages and the different women he had met. Back then Dorothea Tanning was still alive, (Max Ernst's last wife) and she lived in New York. If I remember correctly. Peter Schamoni told me that he had sent her a picture of one of his latest purchases: a  painting with one of the dogs Peggy Guggenheim owned. And he told me that Dorothea wrote back a two sentence fax message which stated „never saw this before“. Today I wonder if this was one of the famous Beltracchi fakes. 

For those of you who do not know: Max Ernst's body of work is quite expensive and very rarely available for purchase. One of the main reasons why the German forger Betracchi concentrated hugely on „reinventing“ „new“ Max Ernst paintings and infiltrated the art market in the 1980s and 90s. One of the most spectacular scandals in the modern art world.

The evening went by in a flash. Peter Schamoni told me about his visit to France in Max's studio and about his research for the documentary in the US. Which I personally consider as one of the most interesting stories. He and his crew traveled to Sedona where Max had lived. One of my teachers at school once told me that he was pretty impressed by Max Ernst's lifestyle and strength. As he was in his 50s when he built this little house in Sedona. All with his own hands. Peter Schamoni said he visited the very place where Max Ernst went for a swim in the river nearby every morning, before he started painting. And he told me, they found the family of an US lawyer who owned an original Max Ernst painting as the work had been the payment for the ongoing divorce from Peggy Guggenheim. Schamoni bought it and it traveled back with him. 

It was an amazing, splendid evening of awesome memories, fine food and great company. Until today I hold this memory dearly. Late at night we said goodbye and he drove me to the next tube station. We stayed in contact and I think a couple of months later he suggested I should go with him to Berlin to meet a couple who had been huge Max Ernst fans and famous collectors of his work. It’s hard to admit but I was too afraid to go, as the stay would have included a gala night, if I remember correctly, and I did not know what to wear or how to behave. I felt very much out of my comfort zone. After that I think I did write another two letters and then I got notice that he had died. I was very sad. He was great company and one of the most interesting people I have ever met. I met him in 2010 and he died in 2011.

In the years following I did not think as much of Max Ernst, to be honest. I was very busy painting and getting along with difficult family situations. It was not before early 2021, when I started rearranging my artist studio and moving all my art books when I came back to his body of work. Watching the Beltracchi documentary at the end of 2021, brought back a lot of old memories and I was very amused to be honest. I think this film shows pretty clearly why working in the pro art field is not that much of a highlight for me anymore. There is so much noise in the pro section.

I still believe, what art truly is, or will be, is upon the generations to come. No need to hurry or feel stressed.