Why I Feel Responsible to Speak for Emily
Emily Carr was not just an eccentric artist or a misunderstood woman—she was a visionary who faced immense challenges, many of which have been misrepresented or outright ignored. Reading through historical accounts of her life, I feel a deep sense of responsibility to challenge the dismissive and sometimes cruel way she has been portrayed. She was labeled as a "nutcake," "hysterical," and "odd," but what if the truth is much deeper? What if her suffering wasn’t just emotional or psychological but also physical—exacerbated by toxic exposure, grief, and the sheer hardship of being a woman in a world that refused to take her seriously?
I want to find and share the truth.
Re-examining Emily’s Health: Was It More Than ‘Hysteria’?
Too often, Emily’s struggles have been chalked up to "eccentricity" or "mental instability," but few people ask: What if her health issues were caused by her environment, her materials, and the lack of understanding about toxic exposure in her time?
We now know that many of the paints and solvents artists used in the late 19th and early 20th centuries were highly toxic. Lead-based paints, turpentine, gasoline, and arsenic-laced pigments were common. It was routine for artists to thin their paints and clean their brushes with gasoline or turpentine, often using their bare hands. Did Emily do this? Almost certainly.
In my own experience as a photographer at Langara College, I made the mistake of handling chemicals without gloves early on. But then I read a book called Overexposed—about a photographer who developed a lump on his neck due to prolonged chemical exposure—and it was a wake-up call. I became much more careful, but Emily wouldn't have had that knowledge. She would have been exposing herself daily, possibly leading to chronic health problems that people in her time dismissed as “nervousness” or “hysteria.”
The Silent Poisoning of an Artist
Consider this: Emily spent time in a sanatorium, where she was likely exposed to fresh paint fumes. What kind of paint was used? For decades, “Scheele’s Green” and “Paris Green” were popular pigments—both of which contained arsenic. If the walls were painted with these or other lead-based paints, she could have been breathing in toxins that worsened her condition.
We also know that gasoline fumes and turpentine exposure can lead to neurological damage, chronic fatigue, and respiratory issues. Combine that with a lifetime of financial stress, emotional grief, and isolation, and it's no wonder her health suffered. But instead of acknowledging these possibilities, history has largely dismissed her struggles as part of her "odd" personality.
The Weight of Grief and Isolation
On top of the physical hazards, Emily endured profound grief and loss. By the time she was 17, both of her parents had died, leaving her in the care of deeply religious older sisters who tried to control her. She was forced into a life that didn’t fit her spirit, and her independent nature was constantly challenged by a society that didn't value women as serious artists.
She lived much of her life in poverty, often retreating to the woods not just for inspiration, but because she had no choice. Renting was out of reach for much of her life, and she had to rely on unconventional means—like running a boarding house and breeding dogs—to survive.
Rewriting the Narrative
The way Emily Carr has been written about for decades is not just inaccurate—it’s unfair. Instead of calling her "hysterical," "eccentric," or "difficult," we should recognize her as:
A woman who defied the constraints of her time.
An artist who worked with hazardous materials that likely impacted her health.
A person who suffered immense grief and hardship, yet still created beauty.
A visionary who saw beyond the limitations imposed on her.
We owe it to Emily to tell the full story—to acknowledge the realities she faced and not reduce her to an outdated stereotype. She was not "crazy." She was a survivor. She was a pioneer. And she deserves to be remembered with truth and dignity.
I feel responsible to stand up for her because too many voices like hers have been erased, dismissed, or misunderstood. It’s time we look at history through a more compassionate, informed lens and give Emily the respect she has always deserved.
What do you think? Have you ever reconsidered how history has portrayed certain figures? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Let's keep this conversation going.
