I don't know if that's really true or not, but it's something I remember when looking at artists' work.
I borrowed a coffee table type book from the library on British woman artists because it looked interesting. In all honesty, when reading about the women, I think some of them are more impressive than their works.
One artist was Leonora Carrington, whom I'd never heard of before. She grew up in a Downton Abbey world of privilege between the two world wars. As a young woman, she became a free spirit and an artist and had a love affair with surrealist Max Ernst.
On the eve of World War II, Ernst fled Europe and she had a breakdown, ending up in a mental hospital. When her family sent her to another facility in South Africa, she escaped and fled to Mexico, where she lived for the rest of her long life.
She created many paintings and also sculptures. And, she wrote ten published novels. Her work has been shown many times in exhibitions and some of her artwork is in the collections of some of the world's most famous museums.
With that said, I couldn't help but thinking about the "illustration versus art" comparison mentioned above when looking at her work. It's interesting to examine for a few moments, but would I want to look at it on my wall for twenty years?
Below is her self portrait, painted in the late 1930s (enlargement). It's in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum in New York.




















