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.
Friday, December 13, 2013
The sullen gloom of night in the east – the dam hardly visible as a pale blueish streak—towards the ominous yellow sky—glow of Buffalo was cut regularly by the silver shaft of a search-light.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
I thought of remote woodlands and pastures under a winter moon, and how such things seem so far away, and remote for me, and how I would love to experience again a walk in the country under such a moon—
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
The sunlight pours up from the south – from time to time a church bell rings – is someone dead? – it has a wild hollow ring –
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
The sun a pale white glow in a misty, ever changing sky - Everything seemed full of goodness & interest again...
Monday, December 9, 2013
Still reading in "Random Harvest"—a fine description of autumn in London brings forcibly to the front of my mind, the ache that I am feeling over the complete loss of this past autumn.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
How peculiar a door under gaslight – a feeling of crime – a loose sketch on the wall rattles.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Today going down Niagara Street, the brilliant sun-shine seemed like Spring—I had a vision of glistening saplings crackling in a March wind—
Friday, December 6, 2013
There is this difference between winter and summer—In summer light always seems to come from above...but in winter the sky closes in like a heavy curtain, and the only source of light is the snow—
Thursday, December 5, 2013
I would be so sensitive to Nature’s moods—so close that a coming change would make itself known in the look of a house hours or even days in advance—
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
I ought to thank God that this flood of ideas continues unabated at the beginning of my 69th year.