I've Only Myself To Blame

I'm Working Hard With More Determination Than Ever. My Success At The Salon Led To My Selling Several Paintings And Since Your Absence I Have Made 800 Francs; I Hope, When I Have Contracts With More Dealers, It Will Be Better Still.

My Garden Is A Slow Work, Pursued With Love And I Do Not Deny That I Am Proud Of It. Forty Years Ago, When I Established Myself Here, There Was Nothing But A Farmhouse And A Poor Orchard...i Bought The House And Little By Little I Enlarged And Organized It...i Dug, Planted Weeded, Myself; In The Evenings The Children Watered.

I'm In Fine Fettle And Fired With A Desire To Paint.

It Goes Without Saying That I Will Do Anything At Any Price To Pull Myself Out Of A Situation Like This [rejection] So That I Can Start Work Immediately On My Next Salon Picture And Ensure That Such A Thing Should Not Happen Again.

You'll Understand, I'm Sure That I'm Chasing The Merest Sliver Of Color. It's My Own Fault. I Want To Grasp The Intangible. It's Terrible How The Light Runs Out. Color, Any Color, Lasts A Second, Sometimes 3 Or 4 Minutes At Most.