"In 1912 I visited Kandinsky in Munich. He gave me a very warm reception...Kandinsky spoke to me with tenderness, richness, vivacity, and humour. In his studio, speech and form and colour fused and were transmuted into fabulous, extraordinary worlds. Across the bellowing and tumult of these worlds, by listening attentively, I could hear the tintinnabulation of the brilliant and gaudy mushroom cities of Russia. Kandinsky told me that his grandfather had come trotting into Russia on a small steed studded with bells, from one of those enchanted Asian mountains made of porcelain. Kandinsky's grandfather certainly bequeathed profound secrets."
Jean Arp, 1951: from Collected French Writings: Poems, Essays, Memories, 2001
"Some time later Picasso decided to organize a banquet to be held in his studio in the Bateau Lavoir at his own expense in Rousseau's honour. This bohemian project was greeted with enthusiasm by our friends...
At last everyone sat down at the table. Rousseau, who thought that the food had arrived, gravely took his seat, with tears in his eyes, beneath the canopy that had been erected for him. He had drunk more than he was used to and soon fell into a peaceful slumber. Speeches and songs had been composed for the occasion, and Rousseau managed to say a few words, but he was so overcome with emotion and pleasure that he was stammering. Throughout the evening wax had been dripping onto his head from one of the Chinese lanterns hanging above him, but he was so happy he bore this quite stoically. Eventually the drips formed a sort of small protuberance on his head, shaped like a clown's hat, and this remained there right up to the moment when the lantern caught fire. Rousseau was convinced that this was his final apotheosis. After that, as he had brought along his violin, he began to play a little piece. He was no better as a musician than a painter, but his heart was in it."
from Loving Picasso: The Private Journal of Fernande Olivier, 2001