This book presents a curated selection of works conceived and created at Weir Farm during my father’s most productive years, approximately 1955 to 1995. The artworks are arranged thematically rather than chronologically to highlight the range of his métier. The title is taken from a letter he wrote the year my parents acquired the farm and studios, quoted below.
My aim has been to honor his work, preserve his legacy, and make his art accessible again, as much of it has remained out of public view for many years. The absence of formal artistic training on my part likely shaped my editorial decisions in ways I hope are sympathetic to the spirit of his work.
To introduce his work to readers who may not know him, I have included material from his personal archives—notes, diaries, letters—and remembrances shared at his memorial service. Citations distinguish between these sources: eulogies are attributed by author, while personal documents (notes, diaries, and letters) are identified by date only. Because most works are undated and rarely titled, the index provides simple descriptions along with media and dimensions.
-A Ballard Andrews
My aim has been to honor his work, preserve his legacy, and make his art accessible again, as much of it has remained out of public view for many years. The absence of formal artistic training on my part likely shaped my editorial decisions in ways I hope are sympathetic to the spirit of his work.
To introduce his work to readers who may not know him, I have included material from his personal archives—notes, diaries, letters—and remembrances shared at his memorial service. Citations distinguish between these sources: eulogies are attributed by author, while personal documents (notes, diaries, and letters) are identified by date only. Because most works are undated and rarely titled, the index provides simple descriptions along with media and dimensions.
-A Ballard Andrews
Why I would like to be an Artist
Our own United States is a beautiful country, with a strong spirit, which runs throughout the land. You can sense it on a bright morning in the Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter.
You can see it in our people, in our farm lands, our cities. You can rejoice and be inspired by it.
Our own state of Connecticut is rich with beauty and spirit, a kind of close beauty that’s small enough to embrace in an afternoon. Not spectacular our state, like some of our Western ranches, but gentleness, hills which are a synthesis with the countryside. Think of it. An afternoon by the pond, things that go with the time of season in accord.
I like to paint from these things, where I work out-doors on the sight. I like to get to know the countryside like a friend, and through this familiarity comes understanding, the more we know it the more we can enjoy it.
I think it is very strong this harmony, the intimate beauty of our Connecticut landscape. A painter finds here the Bluebird in his own back yard. Seek no further, I think there’s an annual grown in the state by that name.
The credo for the artist:
(Go where the heart goes
If we only could recapture
the first careless rapture.)
Sperry Andrews
Ridgefield, Connecticut
May 24, 1958
Our own United States is a beautiful country, with a strong spirit, which runs throughout the land. You can sense it on a bright morning in the Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter.
You can see it in our people, in our farm lands, our cities. You can rejoice and be inspired by it.
Our own state of Connecticut is rich with beauty and spirit, a kind of close beauty that’s small enough to embrace in an afternoon. Not spectacular our state, like some of our Western ranches, but gentleness, hills which are a synthesis with the countryside. Think of it. An afternoon by the pond, things that go with the time of season in accord.
I like to paint from these things, where I work out-doors on the sight. I like to get to know the countryside like a friend, and through this familiarity comes understanding, the more we know it the more we can enjoy it.
I think it is very strong this harmony, the intimate beauty of our Connecticut landscape. A painter finds here the Bluebird in his own back yard. Seek no further, I think there’s an annual grown in the state by that name.
The credo for the artist:
(Go where the heart goes
If we only could recapture
the first careless rapture.)
Sperry Andrews
Ridgefield, Connecticut
May 24, 1958
