Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967), Wet Snow and Ice, 1947-55; Transparent and opaque watercolor on paper, 37 7/8 × 30 inches; Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Gift of Vincent B. Murphy, Jr., 95.89
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals , December 23, 1914
Thursday, Dec 23, 2021
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. I noticed they were all six pointed. At noon the sun came out - the flying snow was cut by blinding roofs.
Shortly after dinner I heard a “cht” and on looking out was thrilled to see a red-bird in the arbor. That simple chipping sound in the midst of the snow flurries and yet how much it meant to me. It has made me itch to be afield.
I wonder how much my diary shows my thoughts. Very little I 50. am sure. I find this thing that I am not quite willing to be frank with myself. This book contains the things I love, the external things. Thought changes so rapidly that as I look back over some expressed in this diary I must laugh. I think too that too much personal feeling in this book might lead towards introspection. As Fonsekas asserts, the artist must put self behind him and consecrate his efforts for art itself.
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, December 23, 1914