As I told you in my hasty card,2 I’ve settled in Cassis, a pretty little port an hour from Marseille. Some white, some blue, some orange harmonically dispersed in pretty undulations. All around mountains with  1v:2 rhythmic curves.

I’m giving myself a great deal of trouble. Should I manage to render a tenth of what I see, I’d be most content.

Our Veronese Green and our cobalt blue – not that of that good fellow Tanguy – are without doubt shit beside these Mediterranean waves.

I’m much hindered by the weather: rain or mistral for several days. I’m taking advantage of this setback to do the plates of a work that was ordered from me  1v:3 in collaboration with Mr C. Henry (perhaps you’ve read certain of my collaborator’s articles in the Revue Indépendante) by the Librairie de l’Art.3

It’s a book on the aesthetics of shapes, whose measurements and angles can be studied by means of an instrument – C. Henry’s aesthetic protractor. One then sees if the shape is harmonious or not.

This will have a great social bearing, above all from the point of view of industrial art. We’re teaching the art of seeing correctly and beautifully to apprentice workmen etc. whose aesthetic education has only been conducted up to now  1r:4 by means of empirical formulae and dishonest or silly advice. I’ll send you one of these brochures when they’ve seen the light of day.

Why don’t you come to do a study or two in this pretty country?

Good news of you very often, eh?

Cordial handshakes.