KENT ROCKWELL Three Typed Letters Signed in full or Rockwell

Sale 2446 - Lot 446

Price Realized: $ 281

?Final Price Realized includes Buyer’s Premium added to Hammer Price

Estimate: $ 400 - $ 600

ON CHILD PSYCHOLOGY: "MAKING PICTURES . . . MIGHT HELP" KENT, ROCKWELL. Three Typed Letters Signed, in full or "Rockwell," to various recipients. The first, to talent agent Ernest Briggs, declining to lecture next season because of commitments to Colston Leigh [another agency: W. Colston Leigh Bureau]. The second, to "Dear Mr. Harris," responding to a child's artwork sent to him by discussing his ideas about child psychology and returning the artwork [not present]. The third, to "Dear Charlotte," promising to send an inscribed Charlotte print [Charlotte, lithograph, 1934], expressing delight at her letter about her boyfriend, and anticipating her next visit. Together 3 1/4 pages, 4to, personal stationery; 1942 letter with cello tape along left edge recto, 1966 letter mounted at upper corners to board. (MRS) Au Sable Forks, 20 May 1938; 8 June 1942; 30 July 1966

Set Alert for Similar Items

Additional Details

8 June 1942: ". . . I am old enough to remember vividly the psychological era of the late twenties--when grown-ups were eagerly submitting themselves to the psychoanalysts and getting a great thrill and, incidentally, the balance of their life pretty thoroughly disturbed, by having the most profound and devastating significance attached to every dream and memory that they could produce.
"I am sure that there is a significance to dreams . . . . But I am not sure that the dream interpreters are right. . . . I am sure that there's meaning of some sort in child's art--or, rather, that it is related to the child's innate temperament and to its external environment . . . .
". . . It's probable that a child does get some release through making pictures, and that making pictures of a bogey-man might help to free a child from fear of him. I remember definitely curing my little children of fear of thunder and lightning, when we lived in a tiny two-room house on the prairie of Minnesota, by furnishing them all with tin pans and sticks and telling them to pound and yell and make all the noise they could every time the thunder came . . . ."