Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

into contact with the sunset treetops, the transformation was beyond analysis; an intricate interweaving of shapes that was like a maze of tapestry weaving. Again and again I repeated the performance.; On the return to Emporium, I made a study of Sinnamahoning (Stony Side) looking east. Just beyond here I made a study of the road leading downhill into the butterfly swamp. The glow of sunlight on the road, and the purplish embankment was a thing of beauty.; As usual I changed my clothes in a woods, and then went into the Emporium, arriving well before sundown. I ate my supper first. Shortly after I had sat down, the waitress came and asked if I minded having two people at my table. (They were sitting in a front table at the window and had found it both too public, and uncomfortable) I wanted to be alone, but of course said “No certainly, I do not mind)” – They were a middle aged couple, evidently tourists, the lady had decided on a vegetable plate, and was discussing whether tomato juice was included in such a dinner. The husband said “Well, get what you want dear” to which she retorted with irritation “I fully intend to get what I want, dear”.; After supper, I made a few studies, but darkness fell much more rapidly than I had thought it would. I bought a newspaper and couple magazines, read in my room awhile. Later I strolled into the large vacant grassy plot lying a couple block above the main street. A clear moon was shining down thru a fleet of slowly moving dappled clouds. The town in spite of its