Charles E. Burchfield, Journals,, January 3, 1941

Jan 3 – 1941 –

I know that I must be healthy and young when a bunch of raw cabbage and dried beef gravy on broken bread seems like the rarest kind of fare!         

A futile attempt to work on the Christmas Market picture – but it is too soon after Christmas – my mind in not attune – and filled with petty worries – I had to wipe out the mornings work –

P.M. to Buffalo – to bank + market – Home by way of Lancaster to pay light bill.

[the following text was bracketed by Burchfield, which was his way of signifying areas the journals that he wanted people to pay particular attention to:]
I recall now an incident before Christmas, which brought me up sharply to the realization of how much the modern understanding of the realism of violence and blood-shed had seeped into my consciousness. Each year at this season, it is the custom of a restaurant across from the market to prepare and hang outside its doors, wild game – usually a moose and a deer; but this year, a black bear was included. I always get a thrill when I see them, for the sight smacks of the Far North, or more primitive days. Thinking that Arthur would get a similar thrill, I suggested, on one of the evenings we were in town shopping, that I take him up to see them; but he shook his head and declined passively – The look in his eyes told me he could not stand the sight of beautiful wild creatures hanging dead and bloody – and I realized something of horror what I had been trying to do to him.

Colder and snowing today – In studio studying pictures and (later) reading in my journal of 1925-30 – One should never cease keeping a journal. How invaluable to me now with the present turmoil and disaster in the world, are my thoughts of those days. They bring me back to sanity; - and will provide the connecting link between one period of peace to another.

Today [unintelligible name], in describing one of his piano-pupils who was incompetent – said – “She has what I call biblical hands (I thought he meant their physical beauty, but he went on: ) When she plays, - the right hand does not know what the left is doing,

Charles Burchfield, Journals, January 3, 1941