Charles Burchfield, Journals, June 12, 1935

My notes on the mood of Elevators Picture; written a couple years ago.

All the romance of lake-shipping—of sailing to far ports, the wide open freedom of the harbor when the ice is gone and boats begin to move—evening with clear golden sunlight coming across the wide stretching waters—
A feeling of old—the feeling of watery vistas invoked in a boy’s mind by the story of Robinson Crusoe—or of the golden age of discovery, beginning with the voyage of Columbus—

The warm moist air of a spring day when it has been training—a fresh breeze comes up over the oily waters of the slip, bringing with it the smell of wheat, of crushed linseed, and the vague fishy smell of the lake—

The intangible memories of early childhood in Ashtabula—something about a dark wooden tower against a rainy sky.

Like great guant prehistoric birds, these elevators rear themselves up blackly against a black sky, such a sky might have been at the time of the Great Flood, when waters began to abate, and the light to return, revealing the miracle of new grass—

Charles Burchfield, June 12, 1935