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Back The Woman on the Stairs Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Bernhard Schlink
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. Part Two
  33. 1
  34. 2
  35. 3
  36. 4
  37. 5
  38. 6
  39. 7
  40. 8
  41. 9
  42. 10
  43. 11
  44. 12
  45. 13
  46. 14
  47. 15
  48. 16
  49. 17
  50. 18
  51. 19
  52. 20
  53. 21
  54. 22
  55. 23
  56. 24
  57. 25
  58. Part Three
  59. 1
  60. 2
  61. 3
  62. 4
  63. 5
  64. 6
  65. 7
  66. 8
  67. 9
  68. 10
  69. 11
  70. 12
  71. 13
  72. 14
  73. 15
  74. 16
  75. 17
  76. 18
  77. 19
  78. 20
  79. 21
  80. 22
  81. Author’s Note
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

“What I want now? It’s my painting. I had to sell it, and now it hangs on his wall, but it’s my painting. I want to fix it.”

“Did you offer to restore the painting?”

“He won’t let me. Says he doesn’t have a problem with a little mark, doesn’t want me in his house, and he won’t let the painting out of the house.”

I found the story somewhat bizarre, but the two of them looked at me seriously, so I explained to them seriously that the legal situation was not a simple one. That, in the case of a damaged painting, the creator has the right to restore it only if the damage endangers his interests, that is, if a lot of people would see it. And that the owner of the painting, seen only in his private space, could do with it what he wanted. “I can write to Gundlach again with this or that legal argument. But if we have to go to court, it doesn’t look good for us. What is the painting of, actually?”

“A woman descending a staircase.” He looked around my office. “It’s a big painting. You see that door? The picture’s a little bigger.”

“And who is the woman?”

“She’s…” His tone became defiant. “She was Gundlach’s wife.”

6

Again Gundlach replied immediately. He regretted this new misunderstanding. Of course he was fine with letting the painter do the restoration. What could be better than having the artist himself restore the damaged artwork? He couldn’t let the painting leave the house, or his insurance wouldn’t cover it, but the painter could come to his house whenever he pleased. Again, I forwarded the response.

My curiosity was piqued. I went into a bookshop, and asked for everything they had on Karl Schwind. A few years before, the Frankfurt Art Association had organized an exhibition and published a slim catalogue – that was all they had. I know nothing about art and couldn’t judge if the paintings were good or bad. There were pictures of waves, of skies and clouds, of trees; the colours were beautiful, and everything was blurry, the way I see the world when I’m not wearing my glasses. Familiar, yet distanced. The catalogue listed the galleries that had exhibited Schwind and the awards he had won. He didn’t appear to be a failure as an artist, but he wasn’t established either – up-and-coming, perhaps. He gazed at me from the back cover of the catalogue, too big for the suit he wore, too big for the chair he sat on, too big for the back cover.