Dear Marion, Thank you for your letter. There's no disagreement between us concerning the quality of the two paintings of Pissaro, images of which you attached to your letter. I am much appreciative of your enthusiasm for this great art. Rightly or wrongly, I consider myself as sensitive to the beauty of the "visual arts" as the rest of the world; perhaps even more so. What I lack is the enthusiasm. I suffer from chronic enthusiasm deficiency; and I gratefully accept your offer to let me borrow some of yours. We've been over this ground before. I can't quote your previous criticism of me, because that e-mail is stored in my Belmont computer, but here is what I replied on February 2, of this year: _ My apparent "disinterest in visual arts" _ is a misunderstanding. My concern with visual _ arts is limited only by my own abilities. _ I am in fact a sensitive and at times a very _ passionate photographer, and if I have not _ learned to draw or paint or sculpt it's not _ from lack of interest but from lack of time, _ energy and occasion to learn and to practice. _ I'm disinterested only in the passive so-called _ "appreciation" of the visual arts. My immediate concern is an attempt to rationalize the experience, i.e. an understanding, a theory of esthetics. I meditate on the distinction between a landscape painting such a Pissaro's and the physical landscape, for example that stretches before my eyes as I sit here on the porch writing at the computer, a scene which a can - and do capture in a profusion of images with my digital camera. I meditate on the irony of celebrating Pissaro as a Jewish painter, when according to the Jewish Bible with which I am familiar, God said the making of images of any kind is a NONO. I meditate on the incongruity of all attempts to translate appearances into words, attempts which ignore the limitations of adequately describing what one sees. Two disparate instances come to mind: 1) Thomas Mann's valiant efforts in his early writings (e.g. Buddenbrooks) to capture the appearances of clothes and especially of facial features with ingeniously ornate verbal accounts of baroque complexity. 2) Earlier this month I wrote to you about Jakob Rosenberg's descriptive analysis of Rembrandt's paintings and etchings. Rosenberg's accounts are examples of the literary analysis of art in the style of his teacher, Heinrich Woelfflin. It's my understanding that Woelfflin's "Principles of Art History" served scholars and connoisseurs who were disenchanted with a pedantic, matter of fact, description of what's in this picture, as a model for the poetic interpretation of art. Woelfflin's style of Art History has been of especial interest to me, because Karl Vietor who taught me about German literature explained that his own symbolistic (?existential) interpretations of literature were patterned after Woelfflin. The circumstance that I don't relish the prospect of limping my way through crowded museum exhibitions doesn't mean that I'm not as passionate about the fine arts as is consistent with my not being a draftsman, a painter or a sculptor. Jochen