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.
Sunday, September 25, 2016
¶ - Tuesday morning , a light frost no damage here but reports of extensive damage in the country especially corn; most of which was ruined –
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Friday, September 23, 2016
A day of rare romantic clouds - A rainy noon in a woods; feeling of sunshine about to come thru the trees – at the season when it seems summer is an eternal season –
Thursday, September 22, 2016
The beauty of a flower does not exist in its form + scent, but in the associations it brings up; not because it tallies with certain abstract rules of beauty but because it has some subtle meaning for us.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
I “wrote” in my mind, much of my career at the wall-paper mill. If only there were some magical way to get such mental exercises on paper!
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
A sultry day. Sky cloudless. Little breeze. Z-ing of katydids fills the air...
Monday, September 19, 2016
"...sun-soaked...A warm almost sultry September afternoon..."
Sunday, September 18, 2016
At the end of a few hours I feel as if I had been existing in bedlam, my nerves raw, but nevertheless experiencing a sort of physical stimulation.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Jupiter surrounded by a white glow seen better when not looking directly at it. Where do the clouds go at night? Milky Way plain. Are they made of light? A vague misty light in the air. It is pleasant to go along this country road at night. Music affects me … more
Friday, September 16, 2016
The beauty of Thoreau’s thoughts increases for me every time I open the book, I anticipate reading his Spring, Summer + Winter almost as much as I anticipate an early morning walk in the Dutchman’s.