Rain finally came + it’s beautifully cool. Wonder how long it will last. It was marvelous because it started suddenly and then was alternately terrific and gentle.
I think of you all the time and therefor have little to say that would not embarrass you, for instance my first feeling about the rain was that it was like you.
Yesterday, with no success, I looked for a studio for you, found one that was useless for $125.00.
Otherwise the day was spent packing instruments, and studying the corporate structure of non-profit organizations, so that the Natl. Inst. for Biochem-Research would get under way legally. God knows why they didn’t employ a lawyer.
This morning rode elegant us-bus to Academy. Thought about enigma and his little friend.101
Someday maybe instead of writing I’ll send you a present.
I hope you’re having a beautiful time. Love you.
To Merce Cunningham
[Undated, postmarked July 2, 1943] | 550 Hudson St., New York
Prince,
Very exciting to get your spirit letter no questions asked (we have a post office). I am this day sending long forty to 50 dollar article which I hope won’t be travail to translate. At least you will get to know 3 more of your South American brothers.
When they (Benn[ington] Folk) get too intellectual, “answer them only with” art.102 Horror news: W. Lathrop103 has been subsidized by private individ. to go look at S.W. Indians and then when return to N.Y. occurs will be subsid. to nauseate us via theatre. Saw him in proper place: subway.
The weather here now is magical. Cool and sunny, it’s like San Francisco.
I get terribly lonesome for you. Had a note from Renata who is in Colorado looking at MTS [mountains]; she wants to see more of us and play percussion.
Sent my score to be published actually never thought that would occur. Made added note in it to arouse creative spirit in this land: “Determine size and position of mutes by experiment.” Read an article about “Sordino” in a musical dict., which came to conclusion that a plain penny put between violin strings is better than fancy mute. Every now + then the past smiles at me.104
Today I have to trace graphs about the male hormone.
I stop doing that every now and then + read your letter over again.
Please don’t let intellectual art discussions intimidate you. They are only talking about art or loving it or God knows what, but you are it. You’re a visitation and any one who has a chance to be near you is damned fortunate. It’s like the stories of people talking about God or Christ + he is Incognito among them.
I nearly left this earth a few minutes ago—ecstasy—word from you. Pretty soon I’ll write music for you.
To Merce Cunningham
[Undated, postmarked July 20, 1943] | 550 Hudson St., New York
Letter came this morning: going to sea and sun will be marvelous, but please be lonesome enough to come back in not too distant time; I couldn’t help thinking how magic it would be to meet you some place on cliff or sand, but problems of communication and my own allergy to summer-nature mock romanticism.
No new word from Indian.
Martha’s dance sounds like maybe beauty. I hope it remains in intimacy; if it is tortured there, I can worship; but if it gets to “heights of frustration greatness,” would have difficulty.
I’ve found out that my muse’s name is Euterpe.105 This does not incline me farther in direction of the art.
I hope I’m right in thinking you rec’d. 2nd money order for long article. No mention in letter. I have new translation and will check for it next Friday or Saturday. If you want money mailed to sea-shore place, let me know. ($13.25)
Rudy Reviel has arranged a meeting for me with man who runs Blue Angel.106 La Touche107 is back from Congo and persuaded B.A. that I should be attraction there. At first thought it would be all right, but since have changed my mind: I am so completely on fringe of acceptability that such an action would remove what of doubt remains in bourgeois heads. Cannot discuss this with Euterpe since we do not get on together; would prefer to discuss it with you.
I love you and often think of fancy reasons why: spirit is very close to me and mine, I sent it, close to you.
Have Buenos tiempos y coloratura benefices y comprobar natura.
Translation was much better this time and easier to get into shape.
There is one more to be done, but no time to get Photostats, etc., before you leave (besides you’re probably sick of Spanish medical language).
My whole desire is to run up and down the sea coast looking for you.
Love
To Merce Cunningham
[Undated, 1944] 108
[This note, contained in a very small envelope, without postmark, is fragile and has been cut up into small pieces, some of which, folded, have over time broken in two. The fragments, comprising everything extant, have been pieced together.]
i am in a world you make with recherches: and the leaf is suspended by a pin near the little wooden saint. these things mean very much to me; but i think it is not to my credit that they do. i am beginning to think that the reason i “give so much” is that i am so poor in spirit, hoping through leaning on every little gesture, thought, word, and mood of other to get my empty spaces filled. so my giving is really demanding. where shall i go and what shall i do: read a book? how to benefit by what can be said by oneself!
not being spontaneous and relaxed about natural things, i get ideas about people connected with art, fashion little pedestals, love them and bring the public in. a rather disgusting scene.
i love you always.
xenia went all alone.
beauty.
i am in a muddled state.
calliope calls.
soul-searching; i did it once before, about 12 years ago. i’m not very good at it.
louis and satie at breakfast, what did that mean?
To Merce Cunningham
[Undated, postmarked July 3, 1944] | No location indicated
your letters i just plain love: they bring you so close that at any moment i expect the door will open and you will see me camouflaged in enigmatic home, built on shoes you made.
i went away for week-end; but you will be disappointed to know it was to Buchanan’s in New Jersey plus Virgil [Thomson]. However, it was quite pleasant, and everything was taken easily. There were not many bugs; it was cool; there were two yelling children, but on the whole well-behaved, and Virgil was in kind style. Drinks, swimming, damn good food; but best of all was the music and talks about music. Virgil had brought out one of the rare copies of Satie’s Socrate, and we must have played and sung it six times.109 I know now many things wrong with Four Walls110 musically, basic of all being that i made too much expressiveness via melody-means. Some time i [will] make better music for you. Socrate is an incredibly beautiful