Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

enance. This one has sort of a sneering suspicious look.; The fellow himself is not “old” but he earns the title of “old bachelor” because he is so plainly one of these men who are typical bachelors; with the greatest possible stretch of the imagination we can not conceive of him as ever loving a woman; to him we imagine a woman is no different than a tree or a bush. As is fitting to the house he lives in, his appearance is a charade caricature. A large bony body, with immense deliberate stride, stooped narrow shoulders; big red chapped hands; long head, with brilliant red cheeks, big fat jowls, small very narrow mouth, with thick lips, always parted to reveal two {?} teeth; stumped, absolutely meaningless look in his eyes; his head covered with a rediculous(sic) tall pyramidal cap of uncertain style. I think of him as an unfeeling lump, a sort of animated whimsy of some cartoonist’s misconception of the rural grotesque; yet I wonder. I ought to contrive some way to