One of the graces of her journals—Daybook in particular—is the revelation of the artist’s day-to-day. Truitt communes with herself about the work she is making and intends to make, and discusses problems of color and form, material and meaning. The most memorable passages draw on her precise eye: Japan from above is “wrinkled-prune land, purple in an apricot-violet mist of evening light”; the telephone receiver is “shaped like a black tulip held to her ear.” The notebooks throw light upon her intentions, works, and methods as an artist, while also offering a psychological picture of artistic production from within. Her notes about the nerve needed and compromises made in order to be an artist act as both warning and encouragement for younger artists.

Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror