[RB journal entry]
June 6. Sunday grey.

Dachine [Rainer] lives idylically in an ancient manor house with bright fields of cattle + lambs, a tributary of the Thames at her back and a persecuting neighbor. She has a dog, a cat, a boy, her daughter when she comes, fire places, bathrooms, an air of luxury, a well-being. She looks like Gertrude Stein, plump, rosy, unchanged in temperament. She’s never had to earn a living. Her ancient prejudices and passions remain. I’m like her especially in reverence. We are mad about art, each in our way.
No joy like sitting in her garden with a fine wind blowing, the sun warm, the meadows moving gently, the dog sporting + silly - making drawings. I could spend a summer there not moving far from one place + find many motifs. But all familiar. The question is can they be seen again? And refreshed? It might make one simple not obsessed with narrative pictures. Here it seems an affectation.