I do not know how it happened, but one day it was
clear to me that I would become a painter, an artist. My
talent for drawing was obvious and it was one of the reasons
why my father had sent me to the Realschule, but he never
would have thought of having me trained for such a career.
On the contrary. When, after a renewed rejection of my
father's favorite idea, I was asked for the first time what I
intended to be after all, I unexpectedly burst forth with the
resolve I had irrevocably made; in the meantime my father
at first was speechless.

'A painter? An artist?'

He doubted my sanity, he did not trust his own ears or
thought that he had misunderstood. But when it had been
explained to him and when he had sensed the sincerity of
my intentions, he opposed me with the resoluteness of his
entire nature. His decision was quite simple, and any con-
sideration of those actual talents that I might have pos-
sessed was out of the question.