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Beatrice Wood 10

poetess, Demuth, the painter, took possession of most of the space. Marcel stretched out against the wall, and I wedged into a crack fell against him spending exhausted hours sleeping on his chest. We were all dressed, and as I passed into oblivion I remembered Demuth's leg hanging down from the bed touching the floor, the trouser tugged up showing a garter. 
For two years the magical evenings continued, and after a broken romance I went to CAnada acting ingenue in the National French Theatre there. Later the result of an unhappy marriage, I returned to New York,so depressed that for months I hid from friends. 
The AREnsbergs moved WEst, I moved WEst. I saw Marcel several times when I returned to New York. He had no interest in pottery, netherless came to the opening of an exhibition I had and encouraged me to keep on in the medium. On one trip I went to his studio, a barren loft on 14thl street. There I met the same unmade bed, crackers and chocolate on the window sill. He showed me a small chess set he had invnted. "You should put this on the market, it will make money." I suggested. 
"What would I do with money," he answered, "I have all I need for living by giving FRench lessons. If I had money too much time would be taken thinking and caring about it. This way I am free."
Twice in the 30s Marcel came to Hollywood to visit the Arensbergs. It was not long before their home in the Outpost district became a rendezvous for the intellegensia. Their collection grew, and every inch of wall space was covered with paintings, even to the bathroom and pantry. It was there I met Galka Scheye, the promoter of the Blue Four, Klee, Kandinsky, Jawlensky and Feininger. 
The Arensberg and Scheyer wanted their collections to remain in California and possibly to be shown together. Only the Arensbergs