A Commentary: Walter Gropius, On Large Housing Estates

Walter Gropius, “Large Housing Estates”, in Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby (eds.), Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), pp. 484-486

 Following the devastation of the First World War, Germany looked towards housing reform as an answer to the social, political and economic problems of the day.[1] The utopic visions of the Expressionists formulated immediately after the war, evolved into rational and functionalist designs throughout the 1920s.[2] The architect as spiritual leader, combining all the arts, became the architect as engineer.[3] Such a transformation was motivated by sobering hyperinflation between 1919 and 1923, and only after the stabilisation of the mark in November 1923 could housing reform become a built reality.[4] Complimentary to economic stability, the creation of a single administrative entity uniting all of Berlin, which followed coherent and rational planning principals made the large housing estate proposed by Gropius and his contemporaries possible.[5] Gropius responds to the contemporary housing crisis, at the end of the war the housing shortage in Berlin was estimated at 100,000-130,000 dwellings.[6] Between 1924 and 1930, 135,000 social housing units were completed compared to just 9000 between 1919 and 1923.[7] The catalyst for the building of social housing was the trade-union movement, the unions invested heavily in large housing developments and also recruited leading modernist architects to design them.[8] The prime ambition of the GEHAG was to achieve the lowest rents possible through the most efficient, often standardised building practices.[9] Gropius’ text is not merely a theoretical tract on estate building, it is a plan responding to the desires of the trade-unions, a blueprint on how best to produce affordable housing to cope with and last beyond the crisis.[10]

Gropius in his 1930 piece asserts that through regulation and the linear plan mass housing can ensure the wellbeing of both its residents, and the wider city- long term. He seeks to design an estate that finds the balance between financial demands including land price and building costs, and the need for space in the crowded capital city.[11]

Gropius presents an estate plan responding to the ‘basic requirements’ he believes a large residential development must and can fulfil, mirroring the regulatory language of the Greater Berlin administration.[12] He cites limited population density as one such requirement, realised through the ‘building regulations of recent decades’ and contemporary regulation limiting commercial exploitation of residential building land, and so avoiding the creation of city slums created through ‘unscrupulous land development’.[13] The 1925 Reform Building Ordinance introduced zoning of industry and housing, which Gropius incorporates into his plan, with his placing of commercial enterprises and facilities likely to generate noise like schools and playgrounds in ‘relatively isolated positions’, with noise further buffered by the conservation of existing woodland.[14] [15] Gropius blends adherence to regulation and focus on the resident’s welfare to create ‘exceptional tranquillity’ within the estate.[16]

Gropius hints at the tensions within high modernism- the battle of standard, anonymous blocks and organic form, which was characterised by Manfredo Tafuri as ‘one of the most serious ruptures within the modern movement’.[17] Leo Adler in his 1927 criticism of the Horseshoe estate in Berlin by Taut and Wagner asserted that in all aspects of ‘building engineering’ reason must rule. Gropius in his piece favours the standard, anonymous block and celebrates the linear grid plan.[18] The estates Gropius advocates are all north-and-south aligned with individual apartment blocks laterally separated, resulting in consistent sunshine and air flow through every apartment.[19] Gropius cites the lack of sunlight and air circulation apparent in both old courtyard and modernist perimeter block designs, providing a solution by removing transverse blocks and corner apartments within the blocks of the estate.[20] Contextually, the 1925 Ordinance also banned transverse buildings and side wings putting an end to the format that had produced Mietskaserne in Berlin since the 1870s.[21]

Gropius also contributes to the contemporary discourse on standardisation of housing, which gained momentum within the realms of architecture and interior design throughout the 1920s. [22] Ludwig Hilberseimer championed standardisation of the tenement block in 1926, asserting that standardisation represents an effort and solution to reduce costs, perfect design, and addresses the needs of the user (the tenants) first. [23] Gropius represents another supporter of standardisation, believing that it ‘is not an impediment to the development of civilisation’ but one of its prerequisites.[24] Standardisation became championed by the trade-union building departments, as it was seen to ensure both equality and good economics.[25] In Gropius’ estate plan no apartment is in a better position than another, there is no marker of class, wealth or stature present within the design. No decoration individual to a block is described, and Gropius asserts that the ‘natural accidents of the terrain’, alongside trees and vegetation planted around the estate will ‘relax and and enliven the grid plan’.[26] One can see in this comment a defence of urban modernism contemporary to the backlash against functionalist modernism that was gaining pace by 1930, and that found national, administrative support after 1933 in the Nationalist Socialist ideology that damned modernist architecture as Bolshevist and funded architecture reflecting the ‘simple life on German soil’.[27]

In terms of efficiency and cost-saving within the estate, motor roads are designed to intersect only at right angles past the ends of the blocks, which are further distanced from the noise and dirt of the roads by grass areas, there are also access footpaths reserved for pedestrians, and estate traffic is entirely separate from general city traffic.[28] Gropius’ design of transport systems within the estate ensures overall tranquillity and also ‘reduces the estate’s road-building and access costs’ echoing Hilberseimer’s belief that standardisation is a solution to reduce costs and address the user’s needs.[29]

Gropius’ estate plan was realised through developments such as the Siemensstadt estate, where Gropius and Bartning created blocks that were both rational and anonymous.[30] With the gathering pace of the economic crisis and the discontinuation of house-building subsidies in Berlin in 1931, the working man soon found no support in the architectural ambitions of the administration, and the modernist designs of Gropius and others fell out of favour.[31]

[1] Iain Boyd Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940, eds. Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), p. 463

[2] Ibid, p. 463.

[3] Ibid, p. 463.

[4] Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, p. 463.

[5] Ibid, p. 464.

[6] Ibid, p. 463.

[7] Ibid, p. 464.

[8] Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, p. 464. E.g. The establishment of a central agency in 1923 within the German Trade-Union Congress (on the initiative of Martin Wagner) with the purpose of funding cooperative housing, and the establishment of the GEHAG (the Berlin arm of DEWOG) in 1924.

[9] Ibid, p. 464.

[10] Walter Gropius, “Large Housing Estates”, in Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940, eds. Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), p. 485-486.

[11] Ibid, p. 486.

[12] Ibid, p.485.

[13] Ibid, p. 485.

[14] Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, p. 464.

[15] Gropius, “Large Housing Estates, p. 485.

[16] Ibid, p.485.

[17] Manfredo Tafuri, Architecture and Utopia: Design and Capitalist Development. (Cambridge: Mass, MIT Press, 1976), p. 117.

[18] Gropius, “Large Housing Estates”, p.485.

[19] Gropius, “Large Housing Estates”, p.485.

[20] Ibid, p.485.

[21] Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, p. 464.

[22] Christine Frederick, Household Engineering: Scientific Management in the Home. (Chicago: American School of Home Economics, 1920). Through Frederick’s book, the housewife becomes the engineer, and the kitchen of the home is her control room. The concept of Taylorism already employed in the factory, became employed in the domestic sphere- ultimate efficiency and time management became the ultimate goal. The architect and interior designer could aid this efficiency by carefully planning how one would complete tasks within certain spaces.

[23] Ludwig Hilberseimer, “On Standardizing the Tenement Block”, in Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940, eds. Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), p. 480.

[24] Walter Gropius, “Standardisation” in The New Architecture and The Bauhaus, trans. P. Morton Shand. (London: Faber and Faber Ltd, 1935), p. 34.

[25] Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, p. 464.

[26] Gropius, “Large Housing Estates”, p. 486.

[27] Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, p. 467.

[28] Gropius, “Large Housing Estates”, p. 485.

[29] Ibid, p. 485.

[30] Ibid, p. 466. Manfredo Tafuri, Architecture and Utopia: Design and Capitalist Development. (Cambridge: Mass, MIT Press, 1976), p. 117.

[31] Whyte, “Chapter 15: Housing”, p. 466.





Adler, Leo. “Housing Estates in the Britz District of Berlin” In Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940, edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby, 482-484. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012.

Boyd Whyte, Iain. “Chapter 15: Housing.” In Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940, edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby, 463-467. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012.

Frederick, Christine. Household Engineering: Scientific Management in the Home. Chicago: American School of Home Economics, 1920.

Gropius, Walter. “Large Housing Estates.” In Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940, edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby, 484-486. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012.

Gropius, Walter. The New Architecture and the Bauhaus. Translated by P. Morton Shand. London: Faber and Faber Ltd, 1935.

Hilberseimer, Ludwig. “On Standardizing the Tenement Block.” In Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940, edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby, 480-481. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012.

Tafuri, Manfredo. Architecture and Utopia: Design and Capitalist Development. Cambridge: Mass, MIT Press, 1976.



A Commentary: Karl Scheffler, The Tenement Block (1911)

Scheffler, “The Tenement Block”, in Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby (eds.), Metropolis Berlin 1880-1940 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), pp. 158-163.

The four decades after the unification of Germany in 1871 witnessed a construction rush- particularly the construction of tenement buildings. With no centralised planning authority, speculative developers and land-owners ruled building in Berlin. Scheffler in his 1911 piece, articulates his view that the developer becoming king of all building is a detriment to the people and the city of Berlin.

Scheffler’s major point is that the failing of the city council to invest in public land when it was indeed public and to create imaginative building regulations has led to sporadic building practices within Berlin, which only aid developers and land owners rather than the city and its people. Scheffler’s critique of the council is a critique linked to the contemporary condemnations of the conservative art policies of Kaiser Wilhelm II, featured in periodicals championing the avant-garde including Pan (1895-1900) and Kunst und Kunstler (1903-1933), edited by Scheffler from 1906 onwards.[1]

Scheffler enters the contemporary discourse on the issue of over-crowding and poor housing quality in Europe and particularly within the city of Berlin.[2] Writers such as Werner Sombart writing in 1906, cited the common European tenement apartment block as making ‘civilised family life impossible’, through its over-crowding caused by the actual design of the building and the economic strains on tenants.[3] Scheffler mirrors his sentiment, although on a more practical level- citing the modern tenement apartment within Berlin as being ‘so cramped that man and wife simply cannot allow themselves a family of any size’, thus the contemporary tenement apartment is a physical barrier to the creation of family and the growth of a community.[4] In 1893  a study was published focusing on 803 apartments located in the Sorauer Strasse, which housed 3.383 people, it established that in 30 percent of the apartments, tenants were taking in night lodgers and as a direct consequence, each person had less than twenty cubic metres of air.[5] Scheffler continues the contemporary critique of tenement blocks, theorising a solution for the problems and horrifying results of such studies, rooted in building regulation and the championing of public rather than private interest.

Scheffler believes the colloquial term Mietskaserne, translated as tenement barracks, represents an innate longing for one’s own space.[6] A contemporary, Rudolf Eberstadt, states that the composition of the Mietskaserne is characterised by the entire plot being taken up by the house, ‘the individual apartment disappears’, the individual is therefore lost within mass architecture and profit is created for the few.[7] [8] Scheffler advocates that the modern tenement block must be built in conditions that take into account ‘real public needs’- not the profit of the developers.[9] Throughout his piece, Scheffler references the speculative nature of building in Berlin, which he believes follows a capitalist methodology; ‘the population is set to decline because housing policy is capitalist in nature’.[10] He presents Capitalists as the antagonists- so appears to be writing for the educated, politically aware, who believe in Socialist principles- at least within the realm of architecture.

Contrary to presenting an architectural alternative to the tenement block, Scheffler as his solution, advocates a complete revision of the conditions that create over-crowding and poor quality of life within the current tenement blocks. Conditions he lists as including; speculative landowners pushing up land prices through building method, building regulations set by the local government focused on bureaucratic public health rules and lack of a communal goal and focus in building.  

[1] Carl Georg Heise and Johannes Langner, “Karl Scheffler” in Metzler art historian Lexicon: two hundred portraits of German-speaking authors from four centuries (Stuggart: Metzler, 1999), pp. 343-6.

[2] Writers such as Walter Sombart, “Domesticity” (1906), Theodor Goecke, “The Working-Class Tenement Block in Berlin” (1890) and Max Jacob, “From Apartment House to Mass Apartment House” (1912) all commented on the modern development of the tenement block, both within a European and Berlin-centric sphere.

[3] Werner Sombart, “Domesticity” (1906) in Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940, ed. Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), p. 151.

[4] Karl Scheffler, “The Tenement Block” (1911) in Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940, ed. Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), p. 160.

[5] Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby, “The Proletarian City”, in Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940. Edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), p. 136.

[6] Ibid p. 159.

[7] Whyte and Frisby, “The Proletarian City”, in Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940, p. 135.

[8] Rudolf Eberstadt, Abwehr der gegen die systematische Wohnungersreform gerichteten Angriffe (1907), quoted in Johann Freidrich Geist and Klaus Kurvers, Das Berliner Mietshaus, 1862-1945. (Munich: Prestel, 1984), p. 219.

[9]Scheffler, “The Tenement Block” (1911) in Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940, p. 163

[10] Ibid p. 160




Boyd Whyte, Iain and Frisby, David. “The Proletarian City.” In Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940. Edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), 134-137.

Goecke, Theodor. “The Working-Class Tenement Block in Berlin” (1890). In Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940. Edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), 137-143.

Heise, Carl Georg and Langner, Johannes. “Karl Scheffler.” In Metzler art historian Lexicon: two hundred portraits of German-speaking authors from four centuries. Stuggart: Metzler, 1999.

Jacob, Max. “From Apartment House to Mass Apartment House” (1912). In Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940. Edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), 164-167.

Scheffler, Karl. “The Tenement Block,” (1911). In Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940. Edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), 158-163.

Sombart, Werner. “Domesticity,” (1906). In Metropolis Berlin: 1880-1940. Edited by Iain Boyd Whyte and David Frisby. (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012), 150-153.





Fragmenting Form

This illustration took inspiration from the painting I focused on in my article, Otto Dix’s Card Players showcases the fragmented form of war veterans in an exaggerated and grotesque manner. I wanted to show a man of the 1920s, thus the slick, shiny hair and fragment just his face, to combine the inorganic and organic together.

Initially, one of the figures ears was a trumpet, trying to channel some of the humour and absurdity found in Dada, but I felt the addition confused the clarity of the piece, so with some Photoshop magic, poof another ear replaced the instrument. This piece was also inspired by Dada heads created by Sophie Taeuber throughout the 1920s.

Recently I’ve been playing around with creating doubles, rather like Victorian profile portraits, you can see this in my previous work for spectrum https://becktait.com/2016/10/25/to-assume-is-to-make-an-ass-out-of-you-and-me/?iframe=true&theme_preview=true


Both my article and illustration will feature in the next issue of Spectrum Magazine, check it out here- https://spectrumfeministzine.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/spectrum-issue-14.pdf

Narratives of the flesh: The Fragmented Male Body in Dada


This article is indebted to the work of Mia Fineman, and specifically her landmark essay Ecce Homo Prostheticus of 1999

In Weimar Germany, the classical ideal of the perfect male form had been shattered by the bombs and artillery of the first world war. The government had imposed a ban on the publication of images showing soldiers and mutilated and maimed, yet the public could see with their own eyes “war cripples” propped up on street corners, abandoned by the state. In the turbulence that followed the war, an entirely new industry was born, prosthetics were not just objects to relieve suffering, they became layered with their own philosophies and ideals, the inorganic and the organic merged together represented a new age of man and the masculine ideal.

The state’s censorship of the truth via the ban on images showcased a stance of denial, the allowance of two prostheses per person created a horror of a situation where the worst off had to choose their most valuable limbs. The prosthetics industry boomed, for those who had the cash, prosthetics were slick, efficient and represented a new age of man. Freud’s belief that all man’s weaknesses in regards to productivity could be solved by technology peppered major essays released by the industry at the time.

One such collection of essays, published in 1919, titled “Artificial Limbs and Work Aids for War Cripples and Accident “contains many of the images one would expect, of fresh amputees and shiny new prostheses. The Freudian narrative of ‘better with technology’ is sang and themes of the Nietschian super-man also ring out, the machine man, the “Homo Prostheticus” becomes a new masculine ideal within the industry.

Within the expected images, the reader is confronted with two small photographs that evoke a line of questioning that traces a different line of narrative, one of the history of art and the historical representation of the male body. Shown front on and in profile, the Spitzy Statue is a modern classical sculpture, which prior to the prosthetic accessories, represented the classical ideals of the perfect man. Youth, strength and fertility. The addition of a chest strap and a prosthetic leg, creates a man that is now an Other to the classical ideal. Perhaps intended to represent the improvement and bettering of the classical form, the almost grotesque abstraction of flesh from the use of prosthetics in these images, connote the darker elements of the age of prosthetics. The stigma attached to male suffering in Weimar Germany was severe in regards to both physical and especially mental injuries. The classical form of the Spitzy statue cannot help but be subverted by the addition of prosthetics, the fig leaf, once a symbol of modesty and decency in the archaic ideal, coupled with the prosthetics, now becomes a symbol of emasculation. The cultural fear of the loss of masculinity via mental and physical injury manifests itself regularly in references to castration.

Figure 1 The “Spitzy Statue,” from Artificial Limbs and Work-Aids for War-Cripples and Accident Victims, featured in Mia Fineman’s ground-breaking essay. untitled.png

The classical masculine narrative of provider, hunter and saviour was being re-written, and even in texts such as “Artificial Limbs”, one can see the struggle to address the problem of physical weakness, even when supplemented and repaired, belittling the masculine ideal of strength.

Where the prosthetics industry sought to re-define the male as the machine man, new and improved, many state images sought to ignore the wounded and maimed. The still from Ways to Strength and Beauty by Wilhelm Prager, showcases the narrative of young, healthy and fit veterans returning from War in noble circumstances, now performing their duty in the world of work. The Free Body movement also gaining momentum in Germany at this time was seemingly ignorant of the mass mutilation caused by war and the Prosthetic industry’s ideal of the mechanised man.

Neither narrative, the gleaming iron-man or the perfect physical specimen, ring true. But within both, one is able to witness the re-writing of the male narrative in a time of huge societal upheaval, and to also witness the fears over the loss of key pillar stones of masculine identity- recreation, physical and mental strength.

Artists such as Otto Dix, sought to shatter all narratives, to abandon the classical ideal, attack the modern archetype of the German Man, proliferated by the state and the Free Body movement and to make grotesque the machine man of the prosthetics industry.

In Dix’s most famous work The Card Players of 1920, three veterans, representing from left to right, British, French and German forces sit at a small table playing cards, seemingly unaware of their own grotesqueness.

The new ideal of the mechanised man is parodied as the veterans adapt their malformed bodies to new purposes, that aren’t more efficient, they are more grotesque and unsettling. The British soldier holds his deck of his cards with his foot and what appears to be his spinal cord, doubles up as a handy telephone perched on the table. The idea of the organic and inorganic seamlessly blending in this new prosthetic man is lampooned and exaggerated by Dix. The veteran is deemed useful, because he now is an electronic mode of communication, not a basic human being. This facet of the picture relates to the prosthetic industry designing prosthetics to aid workers, to close the distance between their tools and labour as they are now the tools of their labour.[1]

The German soldier is the smallest of the trio, an obvious subversion of the pride Dix should feel in his nation and highlighting the failure of the German state in the provision of prosthetics and after war care. The sheer scale of the German soldier also mocks the idea of the strong and healthy body proliferated by the Free Body movement and showcases what really is left of Germany’s war heroes. Dix actively lampoons the narrative of the strong German soldier in the contrast of the Iron Cross medal, a medal for bravery and prowess in battle with the broken and badly put together state of the soldier in the Card Players.


Figure 2 Otto Dix, The Skat Players, Card Playing War Invalids, (1920) Oil and collage on canvas, 110 × 87 cm, Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

The narrative of castration anxiety seen in the Spitzy statue is repeated in the German soldier’s prosthetics, he is crudely cut in half, but inserted into his stomach are a tiny pair of genitals. Dix shatters the idea of repairing the broken masculinity with modern technology. The archaic classical ideal of men as providers is showcased to be present in Weimar Germany, so strong an idea, that even soldiers so poorly put together, are provided with prosthetic means of reproduction.

George Grosz, another prominent Dadaist, was also fascinated with mutilation and the changing narrative of the male body in the face of the world war. In his autobiography, he recounts an exaggerated conversation about an unfortunate soldier who had lost his genitals due to a bomb blast, “No more fun with the girls for him,” said the medical orderly. The sergeant was of a different opinion. “Don’t believe it, my boy,” he said. “They’ll bloody well give him a brand new custom-built cock made of bloody wood.”[2]

The idea that the soldier will feel no sexual pleasure, but the girls can still have fun with him, shatters the notion of the male body as active. In this instance, the male body is passive, and the female body, still intact in terms of the classical ideal, is active. The French and British soldiers both are partially blind, the British soldier particularly, may be fully blind as we can only see his profile. The theme of blindness links with the idea of castration, as blindness causes passivity, the once strong soldier now needs assistance from his peers. The active ideal of the male body is subverted, showcased in the reliance on machine in Dix’s work, and the themes of blindness and castration, creating a new, passive male entity.

The ban on mutilated images was lifted in 1920. Perhaps the government recognised that public opinion on the war couldn’t become more sour by seeing images that had already been faced with in their personal lives. Dix showcases the flaws in nationalist, classical and technological narratives. By exaggerating the forms and figures of the maimed veterans, he showcases how the classical ideal of the male body is redundant, but also the new ideal proposed by the state, of a strong, healthy young man, who has performed his duty in battle and now performs his duty in work, is a myth. Dix also creates grotesque images that confront the bubbling Free Body movement in Germany at this time, the movement celebrated the natural body, but the prosthetic body, the body maimed by metal, was ubiquitous and seemed to have no place in the celebration.

Dix’s comments on the male body narrative in his pictures question the ideal physicality of Man, confronting classical ideals, state myths and utopian movements. However, Dix’s questioning of the narrative of the male as a strong minded entity is less obvious, ‘Male Hysteria’ was a topic that questioned the masculine perhaps more than representations of physicality. Yet, Dix as a veteran himself, was perhaps reluctant to discuss this narrative as in a society of stigma, it belittled the credit, sympathy and support due to the veteran.

In the Card Players of 1920, Dix provides a cutting caricature to contribute to the narrative of the male body, by shattering the myths spread by its biggest story tellers. The male body is emasculated, castrated, blinded and metamorphoses into a machine, it is not celebrated or championed.

The male narrative is transformed into a grotesque and tragic tale, with a lampooning of all physical ideals of the male body. A new passive, pieced together male entity is formed, Dix showcases a masculine identity that is to be run away from, far from ideals often narrated in art.




[1] Mia Fineman, “Ecce Homo Prostheticus,” New German Critique No.76, Special Issue on Weimar Visual Culture (Winter, 1999):

George Grosz, A small yes and a big no, trans. Arnold J. Pomeras (London: Alli- son & Busby, 1982) 88.

[2] George Grosz, A small yes and a big no, trans. Arnold J. Pomeras (London: Alli- son & Busby, 1982) 88.