Dear Paul Klee,
I would like to posthumously thank you from all my heart for your great works. Yours were the very first paintings I noticed as a small child. There was a selection of reproduction prints hung around the otherwise rather plain class room where I spent the first few years of my education. I remember staring for hours at the luminous fishes in the dark black waters just above my desk while my dowdy history teacher tried to interest us in the Romans. A deep red square next to a turquoise and a sunny yellow in one of the compositions of squares. I feasted on the color in your paintings, while my math’s teacher called my name and caught me yet again at not listening. Paul Klee you were a far less intimidating teacher and I learned everything about color from you. I learned about foreign countries the seasons and the hot and cold tones and moods in the landscape. But most of all your paintings not only saved me from boredom in the long hours of the classroom, they transported me into a mysterious underworld with myths and signs and places that kept me wondering about the world outside the classroom. Later I found out much more about your life and about how to contextualise your works. But none of it was as valuable as just sitting with your paintings while growing up. In gratitude, C.