This one sentence I have been thinking about much “Your notion of artistic creation is as blasphemous as your notion of the contemplative life. You should not emulate God, not duplicate creation, but stay on earth and beautify.”
A cold snow-flurry day. It was a mixture of wind snowflakes and sunshine. The fluffy snow lies lightly on the ice. All morning the air was white. I went out on the porch and examined the little star- shaped flakes.
The oak-leaf—I don’t know when I first noticed the oakleaf in Cottrell’s yard—but I think it was during a snowstorm in early November—
A Dream: Bertha Art and I out in the country – an unknown valley to the Southeast – It is Mid-December but without any snow – We are driving south in the car, and have just came to a Y in the road...
A Dream. A confused unearthly dusk – A train of various kinds of freight cars going northward in the gloom. I was riding – we were going past a line of small factory buildings. Suddenly the cars commenced one by one to slide over and come to a stop in the spaces between the buildings.
Made a water-color of a memory from childhood – the night before Christmas – (the little brick house - Joe woke up and said he had heard Santa’s reindeers beating on the roof – I believed him)...
At nightfall a slow-moving mass of dappled clouds gradually obscured the brilliant silver moon sliver like soggy ice floating in a February creek wipes out the sun sparkles –
In Post woods yesterday snow fall at dusk – I felt the old feeling of loneliness + detachment – I can scarcely even hint at this feeling in my work –
The far away pale December sun is barely visible at noon.