Charles E. Burchfield in his own words
From the age of seventeen until the end of his life, American watercolor painter Charles E. Burchfield wrote in journals that chronicled his artistic and intellectual development. These journals reveal much about his unique vision, love of nature and gift for writing. Burchfield’s passion for writing could not be contained in the journals alone. Throughout his career, his moods, ideas and personal critiques were also recorded on thousands of scraps of paper and studies for paintings as well as in letters to family, friends and colleagues. His complex and layered visual language points to a complex human being. The inner triumphs, struggles and ambitions of his career are reflected and recorded in his own words and serve as an inspiration for all.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
That low-toned shop-whistle! – that brings to mind my boyhood summer days, in particular a long dusty road to the north of Greene – and noontime, and fields of butter-cups.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
The afternoon – The air becomes more stagnant – the ground hot – the sky turns to a sultry violet; hasty clouds – the day dies endlessly –
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
I arose early and walked east to the dam. The early morning wind was there, but how much water has gone under the bridge since I first dreamed of misty wind thru early morning willows-
Monday, July 7, 2014
. . . My mind feeds on the poetry of past events-
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Art and I had a good visit alone on Sunday afternoon during which we discussed all manner of things from evolution to “outer space”, politics, literature and music.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
The cries of my children below—sometimes of glee, sometimes of irritation—the swift buzz of machines going by. I discover a spider has built his web over my desk-table...
Friday, July 4, 2014
I often speculate on the variety of Gods the world contains—from the lowest form of intelligence (which creates idols out of earthly material)—
Thursday, July 3, 2014
...in the distance, beyond the wheat field, a number of groups of trees, with a vista in between. I get two feelings from these; one is of South-east on a hot July midmorning,—
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
The wind from the northeast, great loose clouds in a calm blue sky, the air full of the hot per-fume laden humidity of early summer.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
How the hot noon sun pours down on the glaring crimson roses. A heat withered leaf falling in a sunhazed forest