This past week brought on a surprise visit to the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln. My mother-in-law’s been up visiting and DeCordova is a favorite. Brought two teens along and let them explore on their own. Within minutes I came across both sitting on a leather couch, one who will not be named here was playing with his cellphone. That situation was rectified.

The exhibit is of New England women abstract artists. (I do look forward to the day when particular note need not be made for ‘women’, but for now it feels right and good.)

The overriding thought I had walking through the galleries was that all this creating was going on while men were receiving most of the recognition – except of course for Georgia O’Keeffe – the only woman artist painting at the time all those men were – though I do allude to a lack of art world awareness on my part.

As I read the blurbs by each painting I saw the many galleries where these artists have had shows. I read parts of their artistic sojourns. And I witnessed the passion deliberations and executions of their work. I marveled.

And I left further schooled.