Mondrian ate little but carrots. Those neoplasticists were crazy. However it turns out they were matched in craziness by their English counterparts, all of whom could be played by Hugh Grant or Helena Bonham Carter or some other English twits with fumbling bed-hopping ease as they appeared capable of little but plotting aesthetic revolution from antique kitchen table of a cottage in Fawley Bottom, Bucks. Read Charles Dewent's very funny book Mondrian in London: How British Art Nearly Became Modern for details.
Class war raged, when one left one's ancestral country seat;
'The maids took down (the Mondrian) off the wall...then they stood an ink pot on it - they then upset the inkpot- a very large mark all over the yellow square (!)' Consulting Mondrian on what can be done: 'He's really sad about the ink...went all pale and said it was the evil spirits fighting against the new spirit'. Well fuck me.
Mondrian was installed in a room in Belsize Park. 'Too many Trees!!' he said. Mondrian hated green, and was clearly mad as sticks.
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