Strong damp wind from the south west; at first brilliant sunshine, but later heavy formless masses of mist cover the sky. Working on an idea for framing my pictures in a new manner...
"...Evening To Three Trees to see sunset...As I sketched, ideas for paintings slowly evolved in my mind until all at once I realized the power of the whole thing..."
Inspired (as I recall) by the Chinese scroll paintings, which I saw in 1913, the necessary length of the sketches was always a detriment in my opinion – it occurred to me to make them in separate episodes (each complete) but which could be laid end to end if desired.
On way home stop to watch a field of buttercups. A glorious incredible sight — the wind tossing the flowers this way & that till the whole field was a writhing boiling mass of dazzling yellow rhythms
It commenced to rain, and the rain brought down the dusk; in the fading light I wandered along the ‘Dutchman’s Hill’..... hearing bird songs in the rainy dusk…
Thoughts aroused by the 1916-17 work:
I felt as tho I had been wandering for years in strange alien lands, and had returned home at last.
One of the hardest things I have had to do lately was to put away the Elevators picture and admit defeat for this year. My illness of the past few weeks precluded all work on it...
"...thunderhead far to west like a phantom - Grass bristling with waving bloom – rollicking bird song... rain dashings..."
Field flowers — pink & alsike clover, white daisies, and red sorrel (the latter richer than we ever remember it.
I am full of agony over my night of painting, and the “missing” of this enchanting season due to the drawing’s project.