In case you needed some quiet beauty today, this painting is called The Orange Glass Jug and Green Cutting. It was painted in 1894  by Marie Kroyer

Let me pass along some information about Kroyer. I’ve been learning about the Skagen Painters lately and am fascinated by this flourishing artist colony who were part of the ‘Golden Age’ in Denmark. It was a time a number of artist colonies were established in Europe, with artists leaving behind city life.  During her lifetime Marie was best-known as the wife of Peder Severin Kroyer and often served as his muse.  There are worlds, complications, and sorrows contained in that sentence. The artist colony not only gathered in a remote fishing village in the northern part of Jutland, some members lived there. Part of the draw was the exquisite light.

Her husband was the most famous and successful artist and leader of the group.  It is claimed she was considered the most beautiful woman in Denmark. She dreamed of being an artist since she was a girl–I’m guessing some writers might relate to this. And, she studied her future husband’s paintings. He was 16 years older than her.

Unusual for the mores of her time, she pursued her dreams, including attending a private school since women weren’t allowed to attend the more prominent art academies and helping other women artists get access to schooling. At 21 she went to Paris and studied in various studios and met and began a lifelong frienship with Ann Ancher who was another Skagen Painter.  Which is where she again encountered Kroyer–they’d met previously in Copenhagen and  married six  months later after a ‘whirlwind’ romance. They moved to Skagen and her friends feared this would be ‘artistic suicide.’ Only 20 of her works are still in existence, and like Vincent Van Gogh, her talents weren’t recognized during her lifetime.

After moving to Skagen {they spent summers there}  and the birth of her first child she switched to architectural and interior designs, including furniture, fabrics, pillows, and wooden art panels. Over time her husband’s mental health deteriorated, his eyesight began failing, and he was repeatedly institutionalized. While vacationing in Sicily she met a Swedish composer and violinist Hugo Valven, and began a scandalous affair. Her husband only granted her a divorce when she became pregnant with their daughter Margita.

But that marriage also ended in divorce after many courtroom dramas over her husband’s philandering. She died  in 1940 still haunted by her unfulfilled artistic dreams. The death of her daughter Vibeke in 1986 brought her remaining paintings into the light and many were acquired by the Skagens Museum. There’s so much between the lines in Kroyer’s story–postpartum depression after the birth of her first daughter, the humilating, flagrant affairs of her second husband, her comparing herself to her first husband’s artistic prowess. And hints that he might have discouraged her from painting.

And one more thing that has me musing–Kroyer’s admirable  body of work contains so many portraits and inclusions of his wife in landscapes. But this meant she also spent a lot of her time–besides tending to her daughter and managing a household–posing for her husband. And I wonder about her output before her difficult marriage since she was able to pursue art then.

It’s been noted that Peder’s mental illness and manic episodes, as depicted in a film by Billie August, included violence. {I’m planning to watch it soon.} It’s seem likely that  PTSD played a role in her life, doesn’t it? I’m especially curious about the research behind the film, but she did write that her many household obligations were a barrier to her ambitions.

And so was comparing herself to an older, more experienced artist–her first husband. Something I’ve heard many writers do. Naturally we can admire or want to emulate other writers, but comparisons can sometimes be detrimental. Espeically when those writers are more established.

Keep writing, keep dreaming, believe in yourself