Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967), November Storm, 1950; watercolor on paper, 26 x 40 inches; Burchfield Penney Art Center, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock A. Herrick, Jr., 2001
Charles Burchfield, Journals, November 17, 1933
Friday, November 21, 2014
The other night I lay awake, tortured by a multitude of thoughts; outside the sky was blanketed with soft strangely luminous clouds, in which now and then appeared ragged holes thru which glowed the deep indigo sky—black star-studded caves that moved majestically toward the south. In one I saw two brilliant stars, and wondered what they were; the hole advanced suddenly revealing three stars in a row, and I realized I was looking at Orion. A feeling of peace and comfort came over me at the sight of this beautiful group, like some Being saying “all is well."
Let my studio be hallowed by large adventurous thoughts; and a feeling of security and isolation from the banalities of life; by dreams, and bold imaginings.
November!, when the seasons are going downhill into winter, and a feeling of darkness—great stretches of brown fields, cobwebby with pristine milkweed, silvered by old goldenrod, and broken by the startling white of snow on weedless patches—
Charles Burchfield, November 17, 1933