Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967), Afterglow, July 8, 1916; watercolor with graphite on paper, 19 3/8 x 14 inches; Burchfield Penney Art Center, Gift of Tony Sisti, 1979
Charles Burchfield, Journals, November 2, 1914
Monday, November 2, 2015
In November a man would, if ever, eat his heart, muses Thoreau. As yet we have a continuation of October’s golden weather. Yesterday was a bright “Sonnvolltag.” Today was more like November – cloudy grey + dark early but never dispiriting.
Yesterday afternoon afoot part way to “Pop Concert at Hippodrome. All the time before its commencement the violinists practiced under the stage – long ripplings up and down the scale – a wierd misture of sounds that led my imagination to believe they were fairies sporting in the inner damp recesses of a dream-forest.
When I listen to music I feel that painting etc are futile. Here, in these master compositions are the very things the artist is always striving for and never seems to attain. Music takes the sympathetic hearer to illimitable ecstacy lands.
1. Overature - Fidelio
L. Van Beethoven
2 Symphony No 1, op. 21
3 - Suite, op 42
a - In the Haunted Forest
b - Summer Idyll
c - In October
d - The Shepherdess Song
e - Forest spirits.
4 - Traum Pantomime
From Hansel and Gretel
5. LaJeunesse d' Hercule
6 – I Sylphen Ta nz
II Tanz der Irrichter
7 - Overture Tannhauser
Walked out from concert at the scattered finish of a light shower. A bright color western sky - blue violet clouds crimson edged salmon-orange clouds to south. Sky in low west at dark becoming orange.
Early this morning had a wonderful dream which I want to believe is the outcome of the music I heard yesterday. I was at home and had gone up near the Three Trees. Here I came upon a thick screen of trees, penetrating which at a small open place I found myself in a wonderful scene. It was summer for there were many waving fields of wheat on all sides. All the trees and grass + wheatfields were a sparkling whitish blue-green; the sky was a vivid yellowish emerald and running down from the zenith to the horizon in a curving line, were a myriad sparkling stars. This occurred to me twice and each time I remember I reveled in the scene. It is the third time that I have dreamed of the things I would like to dream (the other two of which I have recorded).
This evening walked to St. Clair with Bob. Procuring supper we walked back again. Air fresh and finely cool. Western sky a reddish salmon, becoming at last, a bright orange. Street lights sparkle so brilliantly they seem to tinkle.
Charles E. Burchfield, Nov 2, 1914.