Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

some little odd jobs, and I have turned to my work again. I have been reconstructing some of my early pictures—(“Spring Signet” 1917 from 22x18 to 28x40; “Song of the Peterbird” 1918 from 25 ½ x 20 ½ to 36 x 52--) The last mention shows great possibilities, and I hope to put into it all I ever felt about the Peterbird. The longing to hear this bird again, in the right surroundings and on the right kind of day (a brilliant day in March in the hollows) is so strong at times, as to make me almost ill.
The other night I took a walk around the village before bed-time—Standing on the bridge, looking at the dark mysterious Buffalo Creek, I felt renewed within me a love, for this little place, and its unique location on the cliff overlooking the creek. The Buffalo Creek take its place along with the Little Beaver, and the Moldan!
Last night—walking east on Woodline Cove, the shadow of a porch falling aslant the face of a house, gave me a peculiar thrill—I am ready to paint, I thought.
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In February, the University of Buffalo awarded me the Chancellor’s medal. The presentation took place at the graduation exercises, Feb. 22, at the Kleinhans Music Hall. Chancellor Caper’s “citation” was very fine. Afterwards we had