How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?”
Read “Dark sarcasm” as dark [sar]chasm. The artist is not drawing that chasm which all the others have reached out and are holding hands over. And those hands being held, like bricks, make a wall between the artist and the attractive woman, a “teacher leaving him alone,” at the far end of the room. He’s drawing her.
But drawing is not reaching out. Yet both begin with an object of desire, an imaginary object, something one lacks but can imagine not lacking. Reaching out the others hope to touch that object, make it real. In this drawing of drawing and reaching, you can see that. The others in it reach and touch; they become real objects for each other.
With drawings there’s no such hope. But the artist still hopes because drawing is all he can do. He’s too small to hold hands with any of the others plus they are all spoken for. There is the teacher but she’s at the far end of the classroom, “leaving him alone”, kept from him by that wall of held hands. She’s near his size but that’s just a trick of perspective.
He’s tricked by his own trade into thinking that he could reach out to her, hold her hand and so on. If only there wasn’t the chasm–his fear of falling into an eigenweltlich, existential abyss. If there wasn’t that mit- or um-weltlich wall–the others’ hands held tightly, closely guarding hard-won rights. “Wrong, Do it again!” they say meaning reach out, do it until you get it right. More “Dark sarcasm,” they couldn’t care less. No, he won’t do that again; he won’t reach for he knows he’ll fall. But for some strange reason he keeps on drawing.