Look at this woman.
She was beautiful when she was young. But she had a haunting, defiant beauty when she was old.
She always did, always could, look a person in the eye.
She went to New Mexico, to the desert. She bought a house in 1940 and lived there until she died at 98, in 1986.
She had that essential rarefied beauty of the bleached skulls she loved to paint.
It doesn’t matter what you think of her paintings. She was an artist in a man's world. She did what she wanted to do and how she wanted to do it. That was character.
I'd like to have a face with that rugged simplicity in my very old age.