Letter from ANDREW WYETH (American, 1917-2009) to Alice Moore
Sunday, March 20, 1938; mailed Monday, March 21, 1938
Dearest Alice:
What a shock it was. It's hard for me to believe that you are in the hospital. I certainly hope that you are feeling better and don't you do any worrying now do you understand, I mean it, you take it easy. I am glad that you are in a hospital because I know that they will make you rest, and another thing, don't you do any writing. When I come to New York again I am going to try and come out and see you.
Well I can't tell you how impressive Maine is in the winter time but God! It's lovely as hell. Port Clyde seems deserted when you walk down its streets or I should say street. The wind whistling through the buildings makes it all the more stark and you never see a person and when you do it's only for a minute as you see them dart across the street and disappear into a house. But if you want to find the fisherman, just go in a store [sketch of four figures seated around a stove] and you will find them all. In fact, I think they spend most of their time there talking.
The weather was beautifully clear while we were in Port Clyde. They have really had a very open winter, very little snow, only six inches, which is strange for Maine. It was pretty cold while we were there. I made several water colors form the car which I may do something with. Some times also made drawings.
It's very interesting how different the place looks in the winter, what a deep blue and green the sea is and the rock weed turns very black, which is very effective. I must certainly spend some winters up there and paint some of these things. It never has been touched by an artist that I can recall.
Stopped in Boston on the way home and saw the man that runs the art gallery of Doll and Richards. My show is all arranged for there next fall so I guess I will be pretty busy this summer. Also got a book to illustrate from Houghton Mifflin & Co., which I will do before I leave for Maine.
Our visit with Kenneth Roberts was a grand one. The place he is living in this winter is a scream. It's in Kennebunkport. The house, or I should say hotel, is owned by a friend of his who let him use it for the winter. It's the most God awful thing I have ever looked at. Roberts himself thinks it terrible. [Sketch of aforementioned building] He took us all over it and made some of the best remarks I have ever heard. I have never laughed as much as I did there. I thought of a very good drawing I'm going to send to the New Yorker of two old ladies standing in front of his house holding a copy of "Northwest Passage" and saying, (So this is Maine) don't you think that would be good. I will tell you more about this visit when I see you.
When I arrived home I found a letter from Mr. Macbeth enclosing a letter from the president of the Museum at Atlanta, the Museum that bought one of my water colors, asking me if I would do a painting for his office of some palm trees blowing in the wind, which ought to be swell to do. I finished the sketch for it Saturday and sent it on for his approval. [Sketch of aforementioned painting] I think I am going to do it in Egg Tempera. I want to get a great deal of color in it.
I will write again soon and don't forget that I am thinking about you always. I am hoping that you are feeling better so that you will be able to see me when I come up.
One thing in your being in the hospital is that you won't be going on any binges. But I really hope that you don't outgrow them altogether, please don't.
Good night my sweet dearest, my darling.
Andy
This letter smells bad to me so hold your nose