Charles Burchfield

An avid admirer of John Burroughs and Henry David Thoreau, who firmly believed in the presence of the divine in nature, Burchfield was less attracted to prim gardens and brilliant autumnal foliage than to the power of storms; the wild, decaying undergrowth found in ravines; and the muddy remains of a dying winter. Rather than celebrating a season at its peak, Burchfield preferred to paint the transitions between the seasons, particularly the change from winter into spring or from autumn into winter. ‘
– From an essay on The Paintings of Charles Burchfield by Nannette V. Maciejunes and Michael D. Hall

I’ve been a long time fan of Burchfield’s work, particularly his early paintings, which contain pastoral landscapes that resemble something from a dream.  After seeing Gaudí’s work up close, I’ve been thinking about how Burchfield’s work almost has a similar effect on me.  Burchfield’s early career began in Ohio, and his landscapes are somewhat stripped of charm and innocence, instead focusing on something more sinister — more akin to landscapes of surreal, sometimes anxiety and dread.  I’ve always wondered what led him to focus more on the somewhat macabre and grotesque, and it seems something that remains a mystery.  Burchfield was supposedly influenced by Sherwood Anderson’s short stories, which may provide some explanation for the isolation and abandonment depicted in his work, though it doesn’t necessarily explain why nature and manmade structures are portrayed in his paintings in somewhat stark and threatening terms.

Allegedly, Burchfield’s paintings contain cryptic symbolism portraying various states of mind — his drooping trees, play on light and almost hurried looking paint strokes might be representative of this. He was an avid observer of nature, and his paintings reflect this, though often turning the natural world into a phantasmagoria.  It is this fantastic, surreal world of landscapes that separates Burchfield from Hopper, another popular American painter with whom he is often compared.

His friend Edward Hopper once said of Burchfield:

“From what is to the mediocre artist and the unseeing layman the boredom of every day existence…[Burchfield] has extracted a quality that we may call poetic, romantic, and lyric…. By sympathy with the particular he has made itepic and universal.”

Hopper’s paintings are much more subtle than Burchfield’s, and almost lack the imagination depicted in the latter’s work, though Hopper always seems to have been better remembered (I may be completely wrong, as I’m no expert). Hopper’s strength seems to lie in the relationships between subjects in his paintings.  Burchfield used watercolor as though it were oil paint, layering bold colors until he created his desired effect.  His depiction of light is simply mesmerizing to me, and the nature scenes are almost hallucinogenic in their energy.

Childhood’s Garden, 1917

The New York Times piece on his first west coast retrospective is here.   From the UCLA Hammer Museum’s website: [Burchfield's paintings] “vibrate with color and sound like visual symphonies where the humming of insects, rustling leaves, bells, moonbeams, and vibrating telephone lines are woven together to reveal the beauty and power of the American landscape.”

Burchfield was as prolific a writer as he was a painter.  Excerpts from his journals, The Insect Chorus can be found here.

“…Rain ceases at noon and afternoon is cold and windy with white-rifted cloud-rolls tearings out the Northern Lake. I could not concentrate my mind on my work. Once or twice I went outdoors and swelled with the cold buoyancy of the day. Leaves shooting streak-like thu the air! Leaf-cyclones capering in whirling course over the emerald grass! Half-nake trees wind riddled! Towards close of school while looking out of window I was delighted to note on how the shot like wind streaked over the flattened grass, the gloss spots of the rippling blades appearing like finely sifting snow! At 3:30 thru Park (1) to room. A sleet show wind whistled. Thence to Library (2) afoot. I walk head high & chest out exultant in the wind.”

– Burchfield, October 26, 1914 (Thoughts for a rainy day)

Moon Rises Over Houses, 1917

Burchfield later moved to upstate New York, near Buffalo, where he married, raised a family and continued to paint.  Many of his later paintings depict small town scenes, industrial scenes, and rural landscapes.  Having spent a large portion of my life growing up in upstate New York, they remind me very much, even years later, of the wintery sky there, the brick buildings, the isolated, snowy landscapes, the abandoned downtown and  empty retail areas, and modest diners and businesses, something right from a Richard Russo book (or is it the other way around?).  I am quite fond of Burchfied’s later works as well, though I prefer his colorful nature landscapes.