Monday, 30 July 1883

The Engelhardts, old Mme Tchoumakoff, Mme Bailleul and other regulars are away travelling. We shall be more on our own at dinner.
I work without being able to compare what I do, which is a drawback; I remember that at Julian’s, in the early days... Nothing taught me as much as watching the others. My sculpture will be naïve, oh, certainly: no system, no technique, no example, no guidance. And I am pleased with what I am doing; it seems to me I have made great progress since I began.
Saint-Marceaux has never said to me what everybody says: how fine it is to work, but you work seriously, but this is not woman’s work, but you have talent, in short everything everybody says; he seems to find it perfectly natural that I work, and has complimented me only on the pastel and also on Irma’s head. He was a little too witty last time... Stop working, walk about and see things in a certain way, no more craft. Did the Byzantines have craft? The Renaissance artists are already wretches; they know too much. Rembrandt is great although very skilled, but not because of it.
Let us say too that a visit from this great sculptor is beginning to seem to me an almost natural event. It is not that he comes often, but still he has come three or four times in the past few months, and I am a little accustomed to these joys.
I am very much afraid to look again at what I painted today; it seems to me better... But tomorrow? And every day there is the same anguish, unless one knows at once that it is bad.