The days are cold – The afterglows are yellow; a blueness pervades the air – light blue smokes goes up stagnantly from some chimneys –
All day on a water color started long ago (1935) in the Buffalo Creek Flats, when I was working on Black Iron. I whipped it into pretty good shape, and felt good that I had, as it were, saved the picture from oblivion.
On the way home from church (Elma) a terrific down-pour, a real “cloud-burst” – we could hardly see the sky seemed literally to “sag” down to the ground, weighted with water, and a deep Twilight spread over the land. The road was like a shallow river (at least in appearance, albeit it was shallow) –
Just after I had finished B called from the back door – “Can you come in a minute?” (The tone of her voice betrayed to me that someone had come to see me and she wanted to surprise me).
The third day of absolute cloudless skies and hot brilliant sunshine – so dazzling that it hurts the eyes –
...as tho sunshine was being blown, like snow, by the wind In a whirling mass it glittered thru the trees... but always was that whirling of the sunshine.
Evie over late in the morning – Played the new recording of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony – which brought tears to her eyes + then to ours.
A cold east-wind day. Poplars tip westward, which seems awry, as usually they bend east. Clouds breaking—their bottom sides are a dark cold blue-purple. Rifts are sun-frilled.
Heard wind blowing thru the trees last night—the first for a long time. My mind must have been preoccupied to a great extent.
To bring out an idea powerfully the sensation must be highly conventionalized.
An idea – To allow design motives in a scene to exist almost alone – As in the markings on tree bark – These designs only will be drawn all other detail merely suggested –