Hello dear friends, I don’t know if I have enough time till my leave to find all these wonderful and great genius women who are not actually hidden but that the society is so blind or rather dumb to disclose them to the poblic.
At least, I must be lucky to find out them. Here is another Brilliant one:
I don’t know if you know or have heard of this amazing woman. I didn’t; till Mike Ben, a FB friend of mine caught my attention on this fascinating Dame whom every man (including me) could fall in love with her. She’s not only a great painter but also a writer and poet.
Here, some dropping words about her life;
In her own words… Dorothea Tanning was born in 1910 in Galesburg, Illinois and attended Knox College in her hometown before studying painting in Chicago (haunting the Art Institute where she learned what painting was.) In 1941, now in New York, she met the art dealer, Julien Levy, and his surrealist friends, refugees from Nazi occupied France. Late in 1942 Max Ernst visited her studio, saw a painting, (Birthday), and stayed to play chess. They would have 34 years together, at first in Sedona, Arizona (a mere outpost at the time). Here she would continue to paint her enigmatic versions of life on the inside, looking out: The Guest Room, The Truth About Comets, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Interior with Sudden Joy, Insomnias, Palaestra, Tamerlane, Far From. By 1956 Max and Dorothea had chosen to live and work thenceforth in France. Though Paris was headquarters, they preferred the country quiet lure in Touraine and Provence. These years included, for Dorothea Tanning, an intense five- year adventure in soft sculpture: Cousins, Don Juan’s Breakfast, Fetish, Rainy Day Canapé, Tragic Table, Verb, Xmas, Emma, Revelation or the End of the Month, Hôtel du Pavot Room 202.
Max Ernst died on April 1, 1976 and Dorothea faced a solitary future. “Go home,” said the paint tubes, the canvases, the brushes. Returning to the United States in the late 1970s, and still painting, Tango Lives, Woman Artist, On Avalon, Door 84, Still in the Studio, Blue Mom, Dionysos S.O.S., she gave full rein to her long felt compulsion to write. Words, poetry. Written, read, heard. Would she join these voices even then? Her poems have since appeared in a number of literary reviews and magazines, such as The Yale Review, Poetry, The Paris Review, The New Yorker, The Boston Review, The Southwest Review, Parnassus, and in Best Poems of 2002 and 2005. Her published works include two memoirs, Birthday and Between Lives, a collection of poems, A Table of Content, and a novel, Chasm.
At present Dorothea Tanning lives in New York City, breathes words, as well as air, and looks at her paintings with amazement. It is 2009.
About the artist: Dorothea Tanning died at her home in New York City on January 31, 2012. She was 101 years old, and had just published her second collection of poems, Coming to That (Graywolf Press, 2011).
Still later, when I was more in touch with
the world, they told me, “You have a future.”
I thought that over. Even if I believed them,
what did my little future, whatever that was,
have to do with the real thing, whatever that is?
Let’s enjoy her paintings with the beginning of her self-portrait; Birthday.
Artist, Once https://poets.org/
Dorothea Tanning – 1910-2012
That was in a room for rent. It had a window and a bed, it was enough for dreaming, for stunning facts like being at last, and undeniably in NYC, enough to hold enfolded as in a pregnancy, those not-yet-painted works to be. They, hanging fire, slow to come—to come out—being deep inside her, oozing metamorphosis in her warm dark, took their time and promised. Fast forward. Trapped in now, she's not all that sure. Compared to what entwined her mind before the test, before the raw achievement pat, secure—oh, such bounty to be lived, yet untasted, undefined—all the rest...