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A classic work for artists of all kinds, about reconciling the call of creative work with the demands of daily life and narrated by Anne Truitt herself. Renowned American artist Anne Truitt kept this illuminating and inspiring journal over a period of seven years, determined to come to terms with the forces that shaped her art and life. Within its beautifully written pages, you will come to know a woman whose range of sensitivity - moral, intellectual, sensual, emotional, and spiritual - is remarkably broad.

Anne Truitt (1921 - 2004) was a sculptor, painter, mother, and grandmother. Her journals provide both illumination and nourishment. This is the journal of an artist, as well as "an extraordinary woman: sensitive, intelligent, perceptive." (Doris Grumbach).

In Prospect, Truitt looks at the far end of her life's arc and feels the urgent need to reevaluate what she has done. A major retrospective of her sculpture in a New York gallery offers a daunting but exhilarating chance for the work to be considered anew. Meanwhile, a forced retirement from her teaching position leads her to examine her own vulnerability. In lambent and affecting prose, Truitt muses on the mingling of art and life, celebrates the love of family, and envisions the possibilities that the future yet holds.

The Garretts take their first and last family vacation in the summer of 1959. They hardly ever leave home, but in some ways they have never been farther apart. Mercy has trouble resisting the siren call of her aspirations to be a painter, which means less time keeping house for her husband, Robin. Their teenage daughters, steady Alice and boy-crazy Lily, could not have less in common.

"Solennels parmi les couples sans amour, ils dansaient, d'eux seuls préoccupés, goûtaient l'un à l'autre, soigneux, profonds, perdus. Béate d'être tenue et guidée, elle ignorait le monde, écoutait le bonheur dans ses veines, parfois s'admirant dans les hautes glaces des murs, élégante, émouvante, exceptionnelle, femme aimée, parfois reculant la tête pour mieux le voir qui lui murmurait des merveilles point toujours comprises, car elle le regardait trop, mais toujours de toute son âme approuvées, qui lui murmurait qu'ils étaient amoureux."