This is Max Beckmann’s Sketchbook 11, a book that he likely used for drawing, writing, and who knows what else! I’m so into this little book, partly because it's so unassuming, like a secret portal into the artist's mind. The cover is a deep, dreamy blue with a delicate pattern of birds and flowers. It reminds me that sketchbooks are where artists play and experiment, and sometimes I think the best works of art emerge from that messy, process-oriented space. I love the idea of Beckmann carrying this around with him, doodling on the subway or in a café. It makes me think about all the different ways that artists use sketchbooks: as a place to record ideas, to work through problems, or just to let their minds wander. I think that maybe this book has something in common with Cy Twombly’s sketchbooks, as they both embrace the value of an unfinished idea.