I like to think of myself as an artist- as being in a nondescript swamp, alone, up to my knees in mire, painting the vital beauty I see there, in my own way, not caring a damn about tradition or anyone’s opinion.
February 9, 1938-
     Painting under Louisiana St. Bridge - went to get the two houses I have long planned; I even set up my easel, but, thoI could not feel the rain on me, yet in a few moments the easel was wet - the wind was out of the S.W. and blew in under the bridge. Chagrined I wandered around awhile trying to get interested in something else. Finally I left & drove around from one bridge to another, but growing more bored all the time. I decided at length to go back to the Louisiana St. bridge, and at least enjoy my lunch looking out over the rain-swept canal. This I did, and fortunately, for as I sat here, the scene took a hold on me, and after lunch, I painted the whole thing in, using the glom of the bridge’s Roman arches as a framework for the canal scene.
     While I was setting up my sketching paraphernalia a rather stupid looking fellow watched me; in as much as