Alfred Stieglitz, [New York City], [May 26, 1918]
What do I want from you? —
— It's hardly six — morning — Sunday — cool — clear — the window wide open — I propped up in bed — feeling rather sick at heart — yet — still dreaming — having thought all night — sleeping impossible —
What do I want from you?
Your letter — I sent you a letter finished at the Manhattan Hotel — I went away & ordered something to eat — I re-read your letter — read it really for the first time as at 291 I was not alone — The food stood on the table & I seem not to have seen it for I was paying the bill when I realized I hadn't touched a thing — was just staring into space. — The waiter laughed. — So did I. — I guess he must have thought me half-witted. — Sometimes I feel that I have gone completely dippy.
There it stood in large blazing letters — Wherever I looked: "What do I want from her" — And there was no answer. — Do I want anything from her that she hasn't already given me over & over again — from the first moment I saw the drawings.
— All the drawings — all the letters. — Perhaps they set mad dreams agoing — Or were they merely the tangible evidence that the dream of a life was no longer a dream —
What do I want from you? — Nothing — nothing —
Perhaps I merely dare not want — No, that's not it — I dare if I really did. —
I fear the youngsters in their idealism see possibilities & think you & I are of one spirit — & they love us — & they have dreams that they would like to see come true — through you — & through me.
Beautiful dreams — if the world were more beautiful they would come true — But the world is relentless & cruel — people are — they must be I suppose or they could not live —
Dearest Child — What do I want from you — You say I seem to need you — that you need me less than I need you — That's true in a way — Still — it's not entirely fair to me or to you —
Sometimes I feel I'm going stark mad — That I ought to say — Dearest — You are so much to me that you must not come near me — Coming may bring you darkness instead of light — And it's in Everlasting Light you should live —
Your living is important — that's what I want — my living is really not important. — I am young in spirit — As a spirit of some use — Otherwise truly hopelessly unfit —
— Of course I'd love to see you — talk to you — be with you — hear all you have to say — & tell you all I have to say — but if I am taking you away from your own natural center — away from Leah who can do more for you than I ever can — more materially — in the way of actual care — & I know that here you will feel the cruelty of the city — will live a restless existence — primarily because I'm not entirely free — having still responsibilities — & above all because I am a poor man as far as money is concerned. —
I need very little — but you should have sufficient — not because you think you need it — but because I feel you should have it — I know I'm no money-getter — It nearly drives me mad to see how helpless in a way I am — & --
Why Great Child — You don't know me at all — You know me as the Dreamer — as the Spirit —
What do I want from you — Perhaps one big kiss to put me to sleep — & give me peace forever — I want to know you strong & well — I want to know you free —
I know you are a woman — First — & always — I know you need a home — a child — Those take a man to give you — I am not a man — That's my curse. —
I could give you a child — It would be the purest that was ever conceived but it would be drowned to death — & you with it — & I too — because I do not know how to be part of the big game —
My love for you is so great — as wonderfully pure — It's not the physical self seeking your physical self — I don't know what it is —
Madness I guess — Madness like 291 —
Great Heavens — Everything seems to hurt this morning —
If you should decide to come because you feel you must — for no particular reason — expecting nothing — hoping for nothing — wanting nothing — Just coming — whatever happens then will happen naturally — What it will be I have no idea —
— Strand I fear has not made things very clear to you — How could he — He brought you quiet — that's why I wished him to go — But I had hoped he'd be able to give you a picture of myself — conditions — Why — Because he felt — Elizabeth felt — I felt — you wanted to come East awhile — & I felt that you should know conditions — I could not write them — I can give you no picture now — My existence seems to be one great mess in spite of its spiritual purity — & I want to drag no one into the mess. —
Your getting sick made matters involved — It's the sickness which in a way drew in the youngsters — I seemed so helpless to help you — so I spoke to them about you — I thought perhaps they could be of some assistance — & they have been — but they have brought glasses to you — colored — & you don't see directly as you did before. — Not that which existed between you & me. — Really exists now —
Strand was really to rid you of the glasses — Of course it's I responsible — I can write now all this — a couple of weeks ago it would have been absurd —
The sun has gone — it's clouding up —
I wonder what you'll decide to do — My last letter gave you an idea of the situation here —
Remember if you feel you want to come — are strong enough — I'll be very happy — But if you come because you think I want something from you -- the coming will be a false beginning. —
Beginning of what —
I'm so tired — I could cry —
Your letter — it's beautiful — It's full of passion — the Woman's Soul — Crying for Completeness — Heart Rending —
Like your work — heartrendingly beautiful — Can anything bring you peace on earth unless it's home & a child — And who is there fit to give you these? Honestly — Fairly to mother & child. — As you would need —
These are terrible days —
I wonder — I hate to send this letter —
Somehow I feel I ought to have you here — my arm around you — like Strand — Leah — listening — or not — & I telling you all this & more — Perhaps it would bring some light to both of us —
Perhaps I'm afraid — afraid that I am steering you for pain. —
— I am to go to the country — to my brother — I don't feel a bit like it — I'd like to shut out all light & stay in bed — & not think —
There goes the clock —
Georgia O'Keeffe, [Taos, N.M.], [July 9, 1929]
Tuesday —
My dear Alfred —
I did not get a letter off to you this morning because I overslept — it was a gray day and usually the sun wakes me up — It was after nine when I waked —
Last night your letters put me in such a daze — I didn't seem to have thought enough to write — I was not here when the telegrams you speak of came. I wired you as soon as we returned — that is we got in late at night and the housekeeper gave me your telegrams in the morning. I wired you immediately — asked how you were that day — You did not answer — I sent you a night letter last night —
I really see nothing for me to do but return to you if you are going to worry this way. I don't want to wear you out with anything like that — I am as conscientiously careful in everything I do as can be — I have not missed writing for more than a day unless maybe that time I asked Beck to write — and then it was because I was working all day every day — and I think that even that day I wrote you a little note after she wrote —
— If you are uneasy this way I will just not stay any longer — so you must tell me —
Mail in these places is not very certain — and on our trips I sent letters from any crazy little place we happened to be — Tony and Beck both laughed at me for writing so often — and we were not often still when I could write — I can't tell you how sorry I am that you have been so distressed — It was entirely unnecessary — I assure you — If anything goes wrong — we wouldn't be six days telling you about it — You have just worn yourself out — doing more than you could this spring — and being tired get into a state of mind that you wouldn't if you were in better condition physically —
— As for other things you write of — of the past — things that have hurt me — and things that have hurt you — I have purposely not written of it or remarked on it because of the distance between us — the long times between letters — and possibly — I do not want to hurt you — I have put out my hand to you so many times of late and more often than not felt you turn away from me — In the Room you usually made me feel that you were just waiting for me to go — You feel that I am mistaken in many things — Going into it all does not lead anywhere —
I do not wish to blame you for anything — and I do not want you to be having any regrets — I think I understand it all better than you imagine — In a way I am very grateful to you for all of it — It makes me understand so many things about other people — and makes it very very difficult for them to touch any place in me that hurts — in either big or little things —
It is as tho it has given me the big balance wheel — It is as tho it has taken my heart — and at the same time left it for me in a usable form —
Maybe you will not like what I feel myself working into — maybe I just imagine it is different — I am not making an effort toward anything — in particular — It is nothing to grieve over — It feels right — and sane and alive to me —
Tony has done much for me — quiet — solid — a warm warm heart — his hurts and his loves — and his checking off my nervousness of many kinds — What I see between him and Mabel — his way of handling it —
You really need have no regrets about me — You see — I have not really had my way of life for many years — When I felt very close to you — that there was a home for me really within you — I could live — I will say — your way as much as it was possible for me to live another's way —
But when that seemed gone — there is much life in me — when it was always checked in moving toward you — I realized it would die if it could not move toward something — Here it seems to move in every direction — There it didn't seem to move at all — it seemed only to meet cold — cold —
Miss Young — the very keen Irish woman who is here looked at me across the breakfast table yesterday morning and remarked — "I never saw anything like you – You never seem to tire — You always live — How do you do it — Mrs. Strand goes up and down — She sometimes looks terrible — You get up at all hours — You go on long trips — You stay up late at night — You do all the things everybody else does and work besides — Tony looks all worn out keeping up with you at times — But you are the only one who seems able to stand it without there being any feeling of wear and tear — You seem to thrive on it always" —
I had to laugh —
— I go to sleep when I want to — Last night — everyone else playing cards — I went sound asleep on the floor — done up in a blanket at the feet of Tony's nephew – he drumming Tony's big drum in my ear — till they say he went to sleep too almost buried under the big drum — And Tony got up and rescued the drum and sent him to bed — I had gone numb with your letters — and all the people that came in — the Hapgoods and others — and the telegram I sent you — and wondering — should I just pack up this morning and leave — and just walk in on you — So I just got as close to the drum as I could — the Indian beat has a terrible persistent rhythm — it just carries you — so that even after I walked home across the alfalfa field — I went off again into a dead sleep — .
With this morning — Dasburg was in to see me — I showed him my work — He seemed to like it very much — thought that I had put down both the thing one sees in this country and the thing it does to you — He was very nice — seemed a bit sad as he left — Maybe I flatter myself but I often feel that a kind of live life quality that my things have makes other painters sad because it is something they haven't — and can't get — and I just have it — I have no choice — it seems to be right in my teeth —
Charles Collier is here too — he is stretching canvas for me — does it as well as I can — and you know that is saying a great deal — I taught him — You will meet him. He goes to Columbia next winter —
— Now listen Boy — I am all right. And what is between us is all right — and I don't want you to worry a bit about me — There was much more cause to worry about things when I was right beside you — If you will just quiet down and be normal I will stay — If you can't — I want you to tell me — But if you can — I want to stay here longer — But not at too great a price from you — So you must tell me —
I assure you — there is nothing to worry about — The things I do may seem crazy to you — I thought of not telling you — only it seemed too foolish not to —
Do not worry about anything — We will work out something together — I feel very strong — Just try to give your little body a chance — You see I know that if I had not come away you would be in just as much of a stew over something I would be doing there – everything about me would have irritated you — Every summer you get ready to leave Lake George because of something I am and do that you can't stand —
Strand is with you today — Beck has a telegram from him — I wonder if he will quiet you a little —
You see — I feel — if I hadn't come away I would have irritated you — being away you worry — There seems no chance for me to come out right --
And I chose coming away because here at least I feel good — and it makes me feel I am growing very tall and straight inside — and very still — Maybe you will not love me for it — but for me it seems to be the best thing I can do for you — I hope this letter carries no hurt to you — It is the last thing I want to do in the world —
Today it rains —
Please leave your regrets — and all your sadness — and misery — If I had hugged all mine to my heart as you are doing I could not walk out the door and let the sun shine into me as it has — and I could not feel the stars touch the center of me as they do out there on the hills at night — or the silver of the sagebrush way off into the distance as well as nearby — seem to touch my lips and my cheek as it does —
— A kiss Little Boy —
I have not wanted to be anything but kind to you — but there is nothing to be kind to you if I cannot be me — And me is something that reaches very far out into the world and all around — and kisses you — a very warm — cool — loving — kiss —
Excerpted from My Faraway One: Selected Letters of Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz, Volume I, 1915-1933, edited and annotated by Sarah Greenough. Excerpted by permission of Yale University Press.
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