In studio all day working on the large “November” (sometimes I consider “South in November” or “November Brooding” as alternative titles) bringing it to a tentative conclusion.
The faithful interpretation of natural truths should be a matter of religion—even a bud on a twig wrongly placed would be a sin—
A cold damp lowery morning – intensely brilliant horizon sky; tops & edges of all things jet black & vibrating – Noon – scatters rain – silvery glittering house roofs – a wet chimney one side lit up from light space in sky – a strange sensation of far off.
A light zenith night, but not so awesome as strange—a train whistle reechoes to infinity—it is wonderful lasting perhaps several minutes.
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.
One of the most poetic experiences I ever had was the finding of violets blooming in a cornfield.
I saw in my mind’s eye, the whole panorama of Fall, from the lurid October trees, thru the idyllic November sunlit days, to sudden winter.
P.M. painting all afternoon of the "view" looking towards Cottrell's.
...as I lay awake, I got to thinking about the place Sally + Red live in, (Caro, MI) and trying to define the reason I felt so at home there, and I realized anew the whole key to my life + my art—
On the way again to the studio I noticed Larry carrying leaves away from Cottrell’s – I asked him if he would fill a container for me {to use for the wild flower garden) which he did –