He's not there, on the opening pages; not here, curlicuing across the snow; nor is Hans-Georg Rauch on the pages that follow. The antic Rauch, Europe's most whimsical penman, set out to do a sketchbook on the Hahnenkamm ski meet. But just racers were not enough.
Rauch came down from the hills with visions all his own. The trick is in deciphering his freestyle view of sports. Why try? Everything becomes clear with the message that accompanied these drawings. "On the way to Kitzb√ºhel," Hans reports, "my glasses got icy."
Nobody escapes Hans: skiers get their icy lumps and all ice skaters encounter his cutups.
Where else would a Rauch jumper leap but off into limbo? And as for the dancers, they're all so terribly youthful. In fact, it is more like a case of Look, Hans, No Mom!