Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

vailed. At first a little shy, the “children” soon accepted me, and gave various signs that they liked me, which pleased me a lot. While I was trying to compare a compliment to the mother on her fine family, I awoke.; P.M. a painting, from our stair-landing, of the view across Bengent’s garage. All afternoon – I was indeed “rusty” from my long idleness – It was hard to get started, and it was not until the last that anything like boldness or freedom came to me. The finished sketch had enough in it make me feel good.; This I hope makes the end of my “doldrums”, with its enervating nostalgia for the old days of my youth. Several times in the last few weeks I had been tempted to “throw in the towell (sic)” and give over this winter to going over my 1917-18-20 sketches, marking them etc. This, I thought would be easier, under the war-cloud, to do them try to do creative work of the present. Easier, but affording little satisfaction. So it was in a mood of desperation that I set out to paint today.Jan 21 – Thurs.; Bitterly cold wind from the N.E. (about 6° above) an elective gray sky, sparse snow falling – drifting –; Walking along the road this afternoon, the realization came over me with overwhelming force that I am mentally asleep, and have lost all sense of true values – wishing for milder weather so I can paint, I am blind to the beauty and power