11

the "American scene." They are interested in the interior life,
and to express their personal and individual view of life they
paint in a highly subjective and romantic way. Nevertheless what
happens in one's XN psyche or soul is certainly as much a part of
life as what happens outside. If an artist expresses this exper-
ience sincerely and powerfully, that is not precious, even if it
is personal.

N--

PRESERVATION PHOTOCOPY: ORIGINAL MATERIAL RESTRICTED

The Springfield Republican

ESTABLISHED IN 1824 BY SAMUEL BOWLES

DAILY — SUNDAY — WEEKLY

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

October 16, 1935

Dear Stieglitz:

I feel very guilty about not having written you, especially as your last letter to me was so generous and flattering a one. And now I am writing to ask a favor. At least with my stiff-necked stubborn independence it seems like a favor; and I am embarrassed.

Two things:

First. I am applying for Guggenheim fellowship; and I want to give your name as a reference as I may. It is a long and complicated story, and if the committee ever gets far enough with my application, they will write to ask you what you think of the plan I hand in, enclosing copy of plan (supplied by McCausland in quantities.) Briefly, my idea is to do a job of reportage on America, a psychic portrait, as it were, a spiritual geography. You know from my chapter about Stieglitz how much preoccupied I am with the question what is American. I have been ever since I can remember. Wanted to do a critical study of Emily Dickinson in 1918 when I was a junior at Smith. The academicians said no soap. Next year wanted to study Walt Whitman. No Dutch Cleanser this time. Second article I ever wrote on the S.R. was about the Santa Fe trail, January 26, 1923. So there you are. At least I think there you are. I get too rhetorical about my XXX plans always to be clear.

Berenice Abbott is putting in an application too, with the idea that words and photographs can be put together to make a primer of new America. But the Guggenheim XXX people say each application stands on its own feet. And of course each one could be worked out by itself. Only we hope not.

Second. I am getting a leave of absence from The Republican. I have been here too long; and I hate a lot of things about the place. I hope to come to New York in December and when I get there, I shall look about for a job. Can you help me?

So that is my odyssey. And I shall hope to see you soon, also as in the past the Marins, O'Keeffes and Doves.

my love to you

The Springfield Republican

DAILY — SUNDAY — WEEKLY

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

October 30, 1935

Dear Stigelitz:

I was sorry to hear that you had been ill and hope you are fully recovered. I am hoping to get in this weekend to see the Marins and will tell you more then about the Guggenheim. No need to write them until they approach you, if ever. Perhaps they won't, if they don't like my idea to begin with.

Till later, affectionately

August 4, 1936

Dear Stieglitz:

I have been meaning to write you for a long time. But I hurt my hand and couldn't type, and also the heat was too much for a country bloom.

Can you tell me how and where one gets platinum paper? Berenice wants to get hold of some, if possible. I know you said that Eastman stopped manufacturing it at the time of the war. But there must be some made somewhere in the world. We'd appreciate help.

The other thing I wanted to write about was a letter I had from Eileen Paradis, whom you may remember came up to the Place with me several times. She is married now and lived in Boston. Her name is now Barber. I shall write her and tell her I have sent on her question to you. Perhaps the best thing would be to quote from her letter:

"We got a bit of a windfall, and I'd love to spend it on something we couldn't possibly have otherwise. I scarcely dare think about it, but do you know how much Marin water colors (the cheapest ones) cost and could you whisper it in my ear? That's the thing I'd like most to have and I wouldn't care if we never got another thing, and if there is any possibility that we could get one I would like to put the money aside and swell it with nickels and dimes till it was enough. I don't think I ever heard how much they cost except one that was $4000---some little boats it was--- and if they all cost that much we might as well spend our little 500 on peanuts. But, gosh, I'd love to have one. I saw one a few weeks ago in the Addison Gallery at Andover."

I regret to say that I didn't answer this letter at once.
But I fancy they haven't spent the money yet. The name and address
is Mrs Joseph Barber, 176 Beacon Street, Boston. I thought that it
was a very sweet idea on Eileen's part, to spend her "windfall" for
a Marin. She ought to be able to get a fairly good one, oughtn't
she?

Hope you are well and having fun at Lake George.

50 commerce street new york city walker 5-0828

June 24, 1938

Dear Stieglitz:

I feel very negligent to be so long in writing you. My life gets more and more crowded, and I get closer and closer to lunacy. It is no excuse, but the fact just the same.

I do hope you are much better. If you are well enough to have visitors, I should love to come to see you --- NOT for the sake of the chocolate, but for yourself.

The trip to Williamsburg was very strange. Spiritually I must be a Yankee or abolitionist, because the air was heavy with decay to me. Not thetown or the college necessarily, but the whole scene. The reconstruction I did not like at all; it was so definitely a rich man's toy, $19,000,000 for some colonial buildings, but plain meanlessness when it comes to the Dunbar apartments in Harlem.

But the O'Keeffe part was O.K. The paintings looked very well in the hall, O'Keeffe looked very well, she seemed to be having a wonderful time, the college was genuinely enthusiastic about the idea. So that was all right. And after all for us at the time that was the chief thing.

I still want to do my article or articles about O'Keeffe with the conferring of the degree as a starting point. But I have been so busy and so tired that the telephone was an insurmountable obstacle. In a little while things should be simpler, and I hope then I can track her to her penthouse lair for an "INTERVIEW."

It makes me sad that an ulterior occasion has hastened my writing of my genuinely affectionate, sympathetic and appreciative sentiments. However the enclosed is the occasion. The sentiments remain the same regardless.

With my best wishes

Affectionately

September 7, 1938

Dear Stieglitz:

Your kind note with the data about "Steerage" should have been
acknowledged long ago. But I have been awfully busy, and Bere-
nice is a photographer not a writer. Many thanks. The facts
were all used in the accompanying comment.

Before I forget, Berenice has asked me to ask you for permission to quote from Mss., the passage on the camera as machine.

I saw yesterday the revised edition of the Museum of Modern Art's "Photography" and thought the frontispiece looked very handsome indeed. The revised section on you is worth while; and it is nice to have the book dedicated to you. Though it seems to me that starting off their one-man shows with a young photographer like Walker Evans is a slightly contradictory gesture. I should like very much to see a comprehensive exhibition of your work in a large museum -- even with all its handi-caps. I think space would give people a new light on the photographs, lovely as the clean white walls have been.

I have another ulterior motive. Forgive me if I have to pack
affectionate remembrances and requests in one letter.

I am thinking of submitting a list of possible articles to the new U.S. Camera quarterly. My idea is to write about persons, because I seem to care more about human beings than art. I would like to give you as one of my subjects. But not knowing what commitments you may have or if you would wish me to write such an article, I preferred to write you first, even at the risk of delaying consideration by the editors. The type of article I think of is something like the Dove article in Parnassus.

I do hope you are much better, that the summer has been happy for
you. My summer has been a Turkish bath at a typewriter, and I
see no chance of getting away from New York for at least a month
and a half longer, if then.

Did O'Keeffe get off to New Mexico? I am still mulling my idea
for an article. But I don't have time to stop and think. And
I can't write without at least one thought!

By the way, I am doing a little department for Parnassus; and if
you could drop me a line as to what the Place will start off with
for the October notes, I should be grateful. That makes three.

affectionate greetings