Jimmy Ernst, A Not-So-Still Life (chpt.2)

"...It started as a rumble under my feet. Only fire could make that kind of noise. The furnace chamber was below me. The sound traveled past me. I thought I heard a gritty sigh in the tall chimney and saw a dense plume of smoke belch toward the low clouds. Undisturbed on this windless moment, the straight black column stood in the sky over Paris like an enormous exclamation mark. My father, Max Ernst, was now ashes..."

from "A Not-So-Still Life" Chapter 1, "An Echo Etched in Smoke"
Max Ernst in the 51st Street triplex he shared with Peggy Guggenheim in New York, 1941 Photo by Arnold Newman	"...It started as a rumble under my feet. Only fire could make that kind of noise. The furnace chamber was below me. The sound traveled past me. I thought I heard a gritty sigh in the tall chimney and saw a dense plume of smoke belch toward the low clouds. Undisturbed on this windless moment, the straight black column stood in the sky over Paris like an enormous exclamation mark. My father, Max Ernst, was now ashes..."
Jimmy Ernst, "Epilogue", 1974 Oil on canvas, 40" x 50"