My mom taught me to be an artist
not by what she said, but by what she did.
Trained as a draftsman,
she could not get work in the 40s
due to sexual discrimination.
Marrying my dad shortly after the war
her life rapidly absorbed into being
the wife of an entrepreneur:
he was building a sheet metal business,
she was taking care of a growing family (three kids by 1955)
But all the while she was being the dutiful wife,
she also took art classes, was painting,
learned sculpture,
started designing jewelry and built a side business designing and selling gold and silver jewelry...
She fought the stereotype
of the hausfrau and the corporate appendage
to be her own person, and follow her own muse.
And now, at age 87 (as of next week)
she has a gallery showing in a Boston suburb of her latest 13 paintings, plus a selection of her other related work,
13 canvasses completed in the last 6 months or so
inspired by this, her first gallery showing in 15 years.
As an artist
she made choices in her life
to support her art
or bury her art
or subvert her art
but in the end she is an artist
and the art will come out
It is not a choice
It is who she is
Helping you see things differently
Helping you hear things differently
Helping you feel alive.
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