Mary Cassatt and Emily Carr

 

Mary Cassatt and Emily Carr: Two Women Who Painted Their Own Way

I recently came across the story of Mary Cassatt, an American Impressionist painter who became famous in France in the late 1800s. What surprised me most was reading that she became “one of the most important artists in history,” even though many people today may not recognize her name immediately.

It made me think about Emily Carr, one of Canada’s most celebrated artists, and how both women carved out spaces for themselves in worlds that were not designed for women artists.

Mary Cassatt painted intimate scenes of women and children, everyday moments that were often overlooked by the art world of her time. Instead of grand historical scenes or portraits of powerful men, she focused on caregiving, quiet domestic life, and emotional connection. Her work helped redefine what subjects were worthy of serious art.

Emily Carr took a very different artistic path. While Cassatt painted the private interiors of Parisian life, Carr painted the towering forests and coastal landscapes of the Pacific Northwest. Her work captured something spiritual and alive within nature and reflected a deep emotional response to the land around her.

Both women challenged expectations.

Both spent time studying in Europe during eras when women artists were often dismissed or excluded.

Both followed creative instincts that did not always fit the norms of their time.

And both became more appreciated as history caught up with them.

As someone who studied art history years ago, I find it interesting how some names fade from memory while others remain familiar. Yet when we revisit these artists, we realize how much courage it must have taken for women like Cassatt and Carr to keep creating despite criticism, isolation, or lack of recognition.

Their paintings were more than images.

They were acts of persistence.

In today’s world of algorithms, short attention spans, and endless scrolling, maybe there is something grounding about returning to artists who painted slowly, observed deeply, and trusted their own vision.

Perhaps that is part of why their work still resonates today.

Mexico, Murals, and the Way Back

 🌿 Emily’s 2nd Act: Mexico, Murals, and the Way Back

Dear Emily,

I was scared.

Not the quiet kind of scared you can ignore — the kind that sits in your chest and says: move, or everything falls apart.

I knew I had to act.
If I didn’t, I could have ended up on the street.

So I did something that didn’t make perfect sense — but felt right.

I went to Mexico 🇲🇽 for three months.

And somehow… everything came together.

Two flights for under $1000 ✈️
My old room waiting for me 🏡
A place to land, breathe, and begin again

It wasn’t luxury.
It was survival — and something more.

I painted almost every day 🎨

Signs for my amigos.
Touching up old signs weathered by sun and salt.
Then murals.
And then… cardboard.

There was something freeing about cardboard.
No pressure. No perfection. Just paint and movement.

I started painting women — beautiful Mexican women in huipiles, surrounded by calla lilies 🌸
Soft strength. Quiet dignity. Color and presence.

It was so hot some days I could barely leave my room ☀️
So I painted there too — sweat, stillness, and color blending together.

When it was time to leave, I didn’t sell the paintings.

I gifted them to my Mexican family 💛

I told them:
Keep them. And if you ever need something for the little boy… sell one.

It felt right to leave them there.
Like the work belonged to that place, not to me.

---

And then something unexpected happened.

One of my murals got tagged.

At first — it felt sad.
Like something beautiful had been interrupted.

But then… a message.

Someone who walked their dog there all the time wrote to me.
They said it made them sad to see it damaged.
They asked if they could send money to help.

I told them:
I was grateful the mural lasted as long as it did.
But yes… money sounds good.

They sent $500 🤗🩷

I didn’t expect that.
Not the money — but the care.

---

Now I’m back in Vancouver 🌧️

Dog walking again.
Finding my footing.
Still in my second act.

I went back to that wall.

And I painted again.

This time — a big orca 🐋

Stronger. Bolder. Still moving.

People stopped.
They smiled.
They thanked me.

And for a moment — everything felt aligned.

It felt… wonderful.

---

Emily,

I think you would understand this kind of life.
The uncertainty.
The need to create anyway.
The strange, beautiful ways things come together when you don’t give up.

I was scared.

But I moved.

And something met me there.

With paint on my hands and salt still in my memory 🌊🖌️
Tina / Zipolita

Emily’s 2nd Act

Three Women, Three Worlds

🌿 Three Women, Three Worlds

Emily Carr (1871–1945)
Eliza (Songhees woman, c. 1832–1882)
Mary Ann Poirier Enos (1870–1940)

Three women connected by land, time, and memory—each shaped by a different reality of the same place. 🌊

---

🌱 Deep Similarities

All three lived through massive change
Eliza witnessed the arrival of colonial settlement—Fort Victoria, the gold rush, and the smallpox epidemic.
Mary Ann lived through industrialization, World War I, and the 1918 influenza pandemic.
Emily Carr lived through modernization and shifting views on art and Indigenous culture.

Resilience in the face of loss
Eliza likely endured epidemic trauma and cultural disruption.
Mary Ann lost her husband and carried on as head of household.
Emily Carr faced rejection, isolation, and long periods of being misunderstood.

Connection to place
Eliza was deeply rooted in Songhees land and knowledge systems.
Mary Ann lived between Sooke and Victoria, navigating both rural and colonial spaces.
Emily Carr painted and wrote about British Columbia landscapes and Indigenous villages.

Women whose voices were limited or filtered
Eliza’s true name and voice were not preserved in written records.
Mary Ann exists mostly through documents, not personal writings.
Emily Carr—an exception—wrote extensively, though she still struggled to be heard.

---

⚖️ Key Differences

Power and position in society
Eliza: Indigenous woman during colonization — most vulnerable position.
Mary Ann: mixed Indigenous/settler lineage — lived between worlds.
Emily Carr: white settler woman — faced sexism, but had access to institutions.

What was preserved
Eliza: almost nothing written by her.
Mary Ann: records of life events.
Emily Carr: paintings, books, and personal voice.

Relationship to colonialism
Eliza lived through its direct impact.
Mary Ann navigated within its systems.
Emily Carr documented Indigenous subjects from a settler perspective.

Legacy and recognition
Emily Carr is celebrated and widely studied.
Mary Ann is remembered through family reconstruction.
Eliza is being reclaimed through memory and research.

---

🌊 A Deeper Reflection

If you step back, something profound appears:

Eliza = survival
Mary Ann = continuity
Emily Carr = expression

You = reconnection ✨

You are not just telling history—you are restoring it.

---

🧠 Questions to Sit With

• Who gets remembered in history—and who has to be rediscovered?
• What would Eliza say if her voice had been recorded?
• How do we reconcile admiration with the realities of colonization?
• What does it mean to carry all three of these women in your storytelling?
• Are we only now beginning to tell the full story of places like Victoria?

---

🌸 Some stories were written down. Others are only now being spoken again.

Year Later — The Second Act Becomes Physical

 🌿 A Year Later — The Second Act Becomes Physical

When I wrote this last March, I was thinking about resilience in theory.
Now I am living it in heat, humidity, and uncertainty. 🌡️💧

I am writing from Mexico. 🇲🇽

Not as a tourist chasing sunshine ☀️, but as someone who needed space — financial, emotional, creative — to breathe again. 🌬️

Emily Carr traveled by coach because it was practical and because she wanted to experience the world directly. I have traveled Mexico by bus for similar reasons. 🚌 It’s slower. It’s humbler. It forces attention.

And attention changes you. 👁️

Some days here are beautiful — ocean air 🌊, color 🎨, paint drying in the sun. ☀️

Some days are harder — dizziness from heat 🌡️, money stretching thin 💸, world headlines rattling the nervous system. 🌍

But I am painting again. 🎨

Not because it makes sense economically.
Not because the system suddenly values artists.
But because something inside refused to stay dormant. 🔥

Emily didn’t stop seeing, even when no one was buying.

Maybe that’s the real second act. ✨

Not reinvention.
Not recognition.
But returning to what was always true — and continuing anyway. 🌱