It's Mother's Day.
In Her New York, it was not a day celebrated in a conventional manner. That's because in Florence's mind everyone was a mother...
So. Happy Mother..... Day.
Originally post Mother's Day 2011
Florence at her mother's apartment in Knickerbocker Village
These days, I am amused at the accolades on Mother's Day that often include the passing down of make-up tips and the special shopping trips for new clothes.
These were not the gifts Florence gave my sister or me. And although I inherited her love of lipstick, it's what is not found in a tube or a store that reminds me of my mother.
It is, instead, a ferocious, unending, tenacious, gut wrenching, miserable exhaustion, banging-head-against-wall, exhilarating 'til-death-do-us-part relationship with the work of an artist.
Personally, there are days I would have been just fine with a new dress or some blue eyeshadow.
The Downtown Gallery and the Woman Behind the American Art Market - In 1926, Edith Gregor Halpert was twenty six years old. She had, up until the year before, served as one of two female business executives in New York Ci...
4 hours ago