Georgia O’Keeffe 1918By Lisa Catherine Brown

I first became tuned in to Georgia O’Keeffe when I bought A Painter’s Kitchen in 1991. It was the first time I read a cookbook for the narrative, rather than for recipes.

Of course, I had known of Georgia O’Keeffe and her art and the critiques that her abstract realism flower paintings were nothing more than scandalous up close and personal versions of female vulvas, but that knowing was the extent of my experience of the late great artist at the time of the early 90’s.

Black IrisBaking casseroles and zucchini bread for my household of six, I really had no time or inclination to invest myself debating the sexual abstractions of Georgia O’Keefe, no matter how much I admired her work. I only knew that any artist, who would find herself inspired by long-dead, bleached bones found in bleak desert scrub and then give them respect with justice through the time and gift of her talent, was okay in my book.

The fact the she created (intentionally or not!) sensuality and sexuality within her images also affirmed my belief that untamed feminine qualities are an intrinsic part of all life created within Mother Earth and Father Sky. Both entities deserve recognition, respect and are worthy of most devout reverence.

1936 Oil on Canvas