From Mynona on George Grosz
From Tether 4, pages 7–28
Lyrical delirium engraves these prints with insane bliss, transforming the world into a cynical variété, a (let's pun!) Dada-ntian hell. But heaven is actually closer than you might think: for suddenly an ironic springtime-of-love flower sprouts from the flat horizon line, and a little apprentice dandy hesitantly approaches the whorish plump young woman, as a winged, arrow-shooting Cupid.