The Selected Letters of John Cage. John Cage

busy with several other commissions, and I would therefor appreciate it if Miss Page can arrange to again come to New York. It is possible that we might come to some agreement and produce something interesting and worth the trouble.

      To Merce Cunningham

      [Undated, postmarked March 19, 1946] | 326 Monroe St., New York¹²⁸

      Dearest

      I am at a peculiar kind of stand-still. Inspiration ceased. I have discarded one of the Sonatas¹²⁹ and thrown away many sketches. I have three good ones finished. Of these Maro has chosen two to play and I will write, God willing, two more that please. Laussat¹³⁰ and I are at odds but still comforts to one another. She does nature things in the house which doesn’t help matters between us. I think she does it because I do it and it’s the first time that she’s been privy to the little room. I think my standstill is due to having been impressed pretty deeply by Alan’s concert,¹³¹ Lou’s new book on Ruggles¹³² and dissonant polyphony, and a long conversation I had with Virgil re expressivity. I do not know exactly where I stand. So I am still and waiting. I will copy the sonatas I have and wait a while. I love you forever. I hope my telegram kept bad previous letter from having bad effect. Your suit is not being sent till tomorrow because the weather was bad and they could not let me have it safely until tomorrow (Monday). I will send key ring and chain then too. When they get around to making the shoes, should they be in colors or simply plain to be dyed? They may not have the colors in suede they said, and you might have trouble matching what colors they do have. What do you advise? I didn’t see Genevieve Jones; she was never in when I called; you should perhaps write to her: 5851 Forbes St. Pittsburgh 17 Pennsylvania. I love you.

      My class went beautifully and they want it to go on forever they said; I had about eight in it. And they are composing two-minute dances. They gasped at end of class and said nothing like it had ever happened to them before.

      It is very hard for me, not being with you. I miss you deeply.

      [handwritten on left bottom] Love I love you.

      Mailing suit now.

      Books arrived.

      To Charles Ives

       May 13, 1947 | Location not indicated

      Dear Mr. Ives:

      Lou Harrison, our mutual friend, has been very ill lately, and at the advice of his doctor and analyst, Richard M. Brickner, 1000 Park Avenue, New York City, is at present receiving custodial care at Stony Lodge, Ossining-on-the-Hudson, New York. His illness is diagnosed as a curable case of schizophrenia. He must remain at Stony Lodge until he is granted admittance to the Psychoanalytic Clinic at 722 W. 168, N.Y.C. When he is in the latter hospital, there will be no charge for his treatment, which, I understand, will be excellent. While he is at Stony Lodge, however, the charges amount to about ten dollars a day.

      Being one of his closest friends, I have taken the responsibility of arranging for the payment of bills connected with this illness; I, myself, am not able to help, since I just manage to pay my own bills. I am, therefor, approaching his friends whom I have reason to believe might be both willing and able to be of assistance in this matter.

      The first bill from Stony Lodge covers a period of nine days ending May 15 and amounts to $96.42. Lou may need to stay there two or three weeks, dependent as I mentioned on his gaining admittance to the other hospital.

      Would you be willing to assume all or any part of this expense? I am certain that Lou will want to repay as soon as he is well and working those who help him at this time. He does not know that I am asking for this assistance. Any details which you want to know can be given by me, or by Dr. Brickner, whose address I have given, or by Dr. Berger at Stony Lodge.

      The day I took Lou to Stony Lodge, he asked me to write to you concerning the work which you had given him to do in connection with your compositions. Naturally, he is unable to do it at present. If there is urgency about this, I will be glad to take care of either the return of mss. to you or their transmission to someone else. Otherwise, he might continue that work when he is well.

      I look forward to a reply at your convenience.¹³³

      To Mrs. Charles Ives¹³⁴

       [ca. late 1947] | Location not indicated

      Dear Mrs. Ives:

      Through Mrs. Cowell, I hear that extended work on Mr. Ives’ compositions is to be done. It is my feeling that Lou will be able to do this and that he might even devote week-ends to it immediately. He is recovering quickly and is in full possession of his mental faculties (he remains somewhat unstable emotionally, but that too will be improved). At any rate, he will be in need of work; and I can think of no other work which would be as congenial to him. Please let me know what your needs are, the work to be done, etc. And I will discuss it with Lou. Or, you might even write directly to him at the

      Psychiatric Institute + Hospital

      722 W. 168th St.

      NYC 32

      To Anni and Joseph Albers¹³⁵

       [Sometime after April 8, 1948] | Location not indicated

      Dear Anni + Albers:

      You were so friendly and Black Mountain was so good to be at, and the last minute gestures and gifts brought us to a kind of ecstasy (the heads among the eggs were discovered near the summit of the Smokies where the mists made everything gently awe-inspiring,—you were as generous as they).

      We visited a Trappist Monastary at Gethsemani in Kentucky (there is also one nearer you in Georgia), and we heard the monks singing Gregorian Chants; we may stay there a few days on the way back.

      Every experience in going through the country and stopping with friends or as with you making new friends is revelatory. Of course, there is also ugliness and meanness too (a disgusting dinner + waitress in Indiana); but for the most part this trip seems tending always toward what is beautiful and meaningful, and I can only say that we feel we were profoundly lucky to spend some days with you.

      Merce is doing his technique now in the middle of [Gretchen and Alex] Corazzo’s kitchen. Last night we read out loud one of your pamphlets, Anni, and all of us were moved by the clarity and truth of your thoughts.

      Being in New York without leaving it for so long had made me believe that only within each one of us singly can what we require come about, but now at Black Mountain and again with the Trappists I see that people can work still together. We have only “to imitate nature in her manner of operation.”

      We love the gifts you gave us, but especially loved being with you.

      Tomorrow morning we go on to Wisconsin.

      [Merce Cunningham’s part] I did my exercising on the Corazzo kitchen floor, but kept thinking about the Black Mountain dining-hall. I wonder why?

      The Trappists were interesting, but Black Mountain was better, because we were able, not just to observe, but to share, if even a little intangibly.

      To Katherine Sophie Dreier¹³⁶ and Joseph Albers

       June 17, 1948 | New York City

      Night Letter for Dreiers and Albers

      From New York City

      GREETINGS TO ALL. HAVE MADE SEVERAL ATTEMPTS TO OBTAIN SCHOLARSHIP FUND FOR MERCE’S STUDENTS BUT TO NO AVAIL.¹³⁷ BECAUSE OF THEIR INNER TRANQUILITY AND SUMMER PLANS (SARA HAD ALREADY GOTTEN SUITABLE CLOTHES AND FLASHLIGHT) PLEASE SEND FINAL WORD BY FRIDAY WHETHER ONE, TWO, OR THREE OF THEM CAN BE TAKEN CARE OF. THEY ARE PENNILESS. ALL OF US ARE EXHAUSTED HERE AND HAVE PROFOUND NEED OF BLACK MOUNTAIN. CAN LIPPOLDS COME TOO?¹³⁸ THEY HAVE TESTED THEIR HEARSE FOR SLEEPING PURPOSES AND FIND IT WORKS. SARA PRACTICALLY INSISTS ON COMING IN THE MANNER OF A STOWAWAY IF NECESSARY. PLEASE CONSIDER ME THOUGHTFUL IN ALL OF THIS FOR I HAVE NOT MENTIONED ALL THE MANY OTHERS WHO WANT TO COME TOO.

      To