Gerhard Richter is the most famous living artist in the world. You just have to say that for now. Full stop. You might then continue and row back a little, clarifying that he is one of the most famous, one who sells the most expensive paintings, but then you would have to google how much they sell for. Nor is it important; at least, it is only important to those who can only see the value of something when they know how big it is, how much it weighs and how much it costs. Richter's works can be found all over the world, in Russian dachas, on Arabian yachts, in earthquake-proof cellars, in wooden crates at Sotheby's and of course in the great museums of our time and, of course, in the most exclusive private collections.
Despite that, Gerhard Richter can get by perfectly well without any hyperbole. In a world of the superlative, his work captivates the viewer with its inner, simple and calm strength. He actually looks like that kindly old uncle with white hair who has preserved his health into retirement, who wears a baseball cap and leather wristwatch, a kind of paediatrician character, carrying Haribos, who just likes to go hiking in the Engadin. To spend his holidays, taking a vacation is no longer said for a while now. Some of his works are now on display in St. Moritz.