(and have fought, and have far-too-often died doing so) for us.
Please make time to thank a service person or military family member you know.
It means a lot, on Memorial Day or any time.
Peace.
some of the is not my words but am sharing wish they were:
Why aren't there more women artists represented on these walls?"
This is a good question. This is, in fact, the same question women of my generation - and my mother's - and hers - have asked.
Mind you, I'm no expert on gender studies,
but I do have a few thoughts gleaned through decades of being an artist,
art teacher and a lifetime of being female.
If you'll permit me to reprint information I have gathered,
the reasons there aren't more female artists in art museums are threefold:
About reputation.
To be fair, "artist" wasn't exactly a respectable profession for anybody (male or female) until the Italian Renaissance made it cool. Even then, most parents would've chosen anything but "artist" as a great job for Junior. (Artists are a puzzlement to people who do not realize that art is hard, noble work.)
Still, long after "artist" was an acceptable career choice for men, it remained outside the sphere of Nice Girls. I don't know if it was the occasional nudity (as in figure studies) or the occasional partying, but art was considered an unsuitable pursuit for women. The end result was that males got a huge head start on becoming famous artists.
Now, in regards to women artists being taken seriously.
Forgive me, but there's an axe to be ground here. For too many centuries, women who've endeavored to make art have been seen as "odd" or (that irritating patronizing word) "eccentric."
Being taken seriously as an artist often meant that whomever-She-was could not be taken seriously as a woman. The sort of woman who did the so-called right thing: managed a pleasant hearth and home for her man and procreated like crazy. It was all right if a gal wanted to keep herself busy doing needlework or even painting some flowers. Those things made the house look better. And it's no accident that some of the first female artists we know by name illustrated children's books. Women + Children = Acceptable.
But, as far as Serious Art went, that was the exclusive domain of men. Women - and everybody knew this - were not capable of artistic genius. This is both wrong and wickedly unfair, but that's the way it went down.
Then there is multitasking.
This is the crux of the matter, in my book. Art is fabulous; one of the most rewarding endeavors a human being can pursue. But (and this is huge), you burn with it. Art consumes the artist deliciously, but it is a harsh discipline in terms of time and concentration. To create it spectacularly a person needs to eat, sleep and breathe art - which means a lot of other things must be neglected (temporarily or totally) by default.
Facts are, Ladies, it's us who bear the live young, and usually us who keep them alive. Raising children, in case you're wondering, takes a phenomenal amount of physical labor and attention. Parenting is important, rewarding work in its own right, but it doesn't leave a ton of free time, let alone free time during which the brain is bursting with creativity.
Wait! There's more! Women are so good at this nurturing thing, it often extends to our partners. Name me one famous male artist who was successful in his lifetime, and I'm going to point you toward either his wife or some trusted assistant as the person who made it possible for him to concentrate on art.
Michelangelo had somebody to cook his food. Rubens' wives darned his stockings so he looked good getting all those commissions. Gauguin had females taking care of him in two hemispheres. Rosa Bonheur? No children, no husband, and one companion who ran the house. Mary Cassatt: no children, no husband, and an independent source of income with which to hire servants. Georgia O'Keeffe didn't have children, and her husband actively promoted her career. Lee Krasner's career took off after Jackson Pollock self-destructed.
See where I'm going with this? It's a matter of choices. A female artist can concentrate on art or take care of other people, but it's nearly impossible to do both at the same time. Please trust me here, and never again wonder why Grandma Moses came so late to art.
So how can we rectify this?
We can't do anything about the past. My advice to you, today, is:
As I tell my own young, talented students, I see great things for women artists if your generation scrutinizes this issue with a level-headed gaze. And remember to work together!
Together, you can make up a lot of lost ground.
With fond wishes for your futures,"
An Elder Sister10. William-Adolphe Bouguereau, Temptation (1880).
What a lovely scene. The temperature is nice and warm, the grass has been mown, apparently we're not worried about potty training just yet, and mother and child are free to simply enjoy each other's company. I'll admit it: I like the Academics, and Bouguereau in particular.
9. Pablo Picasso, Motherhood (1965)
In my humble opinion, the single least latently hostile portrayal of the opposite sex that Picasso ever executed. Who knew he had such a tender side?
8. Vincent van Gogh, Portrait of the Artist's Mother (1888)
Painted by Vincent from a photograph, Mrs. van Gogh appears to be gamely giving her son a small smile. He has given her eyes and brow a somewhat troubled look, however. When the picture was taken, was she worried about, and thinking of, that troubled boy of hers? Mothers do tend to worry, after all.
7. Diego Rivera, Sleeping Family (1932)
Social Realism is a genre that often reminds me I have much for which to be thankful. The mother in Rivera's lithograph can only offer her child the shelter of her arms and the use of her lap as a pillow. These things aren't the same as food or having a roof overhead, but she has given all that she can, and it was good enough to lull a small child into the comfort of sleep.
6. Frederic, Lord Leighton, Mother and Child (With Cherries) (1865)
Leighton has painted us a gorgeously detailed look at a Victorian interior. Isn't it marvelous that these two can while away the hours eating cherries? Obviously, there are servants lurking somewhere in the background. No sane mother - without her own laundress - would sit around dressed completely in white, with a child dressed similarly, eating a fruit known to leave such nasty stains.
5. Paula Modersohn-Becker, New Mother (1907)
Paula was very optimistic about having a baby, even though she was stuck in an unhappy marriage when she got pregnant. She painted this shortly before giving birth to the child she didn't survive by more than three weeks. It's a testament to mothers everywhere that we give birth not just to humans, but to hope for a brighter future and the betterment of humankind.
4. Mary Cassatt, The Child's Bath (1893)
We can't discuss "mothers and children in art" without mentioning Miss Cassatt, can we? I never cease to marvel at the way she caught tenderness and concern in the mothers she painted, and love the serenity in this scene of an everyday occurrence.
3. Pieter de Hooch, Interior with Mother Delousing her Child's Hair (A Mother's Duty) (c. 1658-60)
Oh dear. The things we mothers are called upon to rectify. Isn't it a blessing that Mr. de Hooch never witnessed the millions of mothers who have tried to catch kid vomit in their bare hands? No amount of muted interior lighting could make that into an attractive painting.
2. Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother with Three Children (1936)
The woman in this picture was 32 years old at the time it was taken. She and her seven children were living off gleaned vegetable seconds (the fields having already been harvested) and birds the children were able to kill. She had just sold the car's tires to get food money. I am told she and the children survived this grim period in their lives. In the present era of "prosperity" she still has a shameful number of sisters in spirit - women who spend every waking hour trying to keep body and soul together.
1. Clement Hurd, illustrations from The Runaway Bunny (1942)
Though I have read this book approximately 84,000 times (to children who weren't nearly as sleepy as I was), it still makes my eyes well up with tears. Hurd helped the Mother Bunny morph into a fisher bunny, rock, gardener, tree, circus performer and the wind - all in the name of a mother's steadfast, unconditional love. Maybe these illustrations will never rate as "fine" art, or hang in museums, but they will always occupy a special place in my heart.
Happy Mother's Day, all, and have a carrot on me.