It is 1954, a banner year of events. In May I have my first Paris exhibition. A little gallery in the beautiful place Furstenberg, presided over by Simone Collinet, first wife of André Breton and staunch lover of dada and surrealism. I was euphoric. The place, the absolutely dreamlike May afternoon (Why "April in Paris" when the month of May is the real seducer?), and my paintings on these walls crowded rather close together, since I was showing not only new work but things I had already shown in New York, very satisfyingly finding enthusiasm and buyers. For me, an artist living in the shadow of a great man, it was somehow crucial: the shadow lifted and a gentle but steady light shone on me. I was now an artist that Paris newspapers wrote about, Paris collectors bought, Paris friends recognized. The catalogue I had designed was a tiny book with pictures, an etching and friends' poems such as:

          Quand sa famille a pris le thé
                    (When her family takes their tea)

     –from Between Lives: An Artist and Her World. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2001, p. 208.