Two Letters from ANDREW WYETH (American, 1917-2009) to Alice Moore
Mailed Friday, October 21, 1938
Dearest,
I probably shouldn't even hold my head up, you are much too good for me, but I guess you already knew that. The reason I don't write more is that I feel so damn stupid when I try to write to you. When I think of what a perfect woman you are and how lucky I would be if you were my wife just thinking of this is wonderful.
But what makes me think that this will never happen is that you get along too well with out me.
Oh God! If I was only a man that you loved not for his art but for him self alone, then I would be happy. Go ahead and laugh but you know that I am telling the truth. You are no more in love with me than I am with this table I am writing on. You are in love with what I might do in this world and that's what kills me.
Excuse me but I can't help it. It certainly is the [fame?] that people like you for.
I certainly raised hell in the Jury in Philadelphia, but I am sick of being soft with people. I will never accept being on a jury again, this is the end, its a complete waste of time.
This damn trip to Boston is some more waste of time. Your not loving me and wasting of time are the two things that will keep me away from you. I don't mean that I am wasting time when I am with you, in fact, this is the only time I am not. Excuse this stormy letter will you. You know how I feel, I think.
Love
Andy
Wednesday, October 26, 1938; mailed Wednesday, October 26, 1938
Dearest, I have just arrived home from Boston and I can't do a thing until I write to you and tell you how sorry I am for writing you that very stupid letter.
You certainly told [in margin: "I am not a man but I will be a great artist"] the truth when you said I am an idiot. When I wrote you that letter I had been trying to do some painting along with jury duty and what I painted was just terrible and I lost my temper with every thing. I don't want you to believe a thing I said against you in that letter and if I hurt you I only pray to God you won't hold it against me long. I hope now that you don't love me too much because I would be a great disappointment to you as a [crossed out "husband"] man.
I am saying this because I think more of you than any woman I have ever met. The truth is, I am not good enough for you. This is the first time I have told anyone how weak I am. This I am telling you so that you will see clearly what a fool person I am to waste your time over. This very minute, as I sit here, I haven't a cent to my name.
You see, all my life I have just painted, until you came along, I had never noticed women and then when I did see you it took me off my feet. When you say I don't love you, you are wrong, terribly wrong.
If I was only in the position to come and get you, everything would be perfect but the truth is I am not. The only thing I can do is work hard. But it is wrong from me to ask you to wait because I don't really thinking I am worth waiting for. This, Oh God! is not easy for me to say because I know I need a person like you.
Everything depends on the future with me it may be soon or it may be years or it may be never.
Now for God sake don't think I don't want you because you are going to see me a great deal, in fact, I will see you in a couple of weeks. Remember this, I spend all of my time painting my sweet and I see no other women.
Andy
[in margin: "WRITE SOON AND PLEASE FORGIVE ME"]
[Accompanied by an exhibition invitation to "Water Colors by Andrew Wyeth" at Doll and Richards, 138 Newbury Street, Boston, October 24 - November 5, 1938]