“I am not what I am, I am what I do with my hands.”

Louise Bourgeois died yesterday, she was 98.

The art world feels the loss of such a creative force. A woman who created art her entire life without recognition until she was in her seventies. A woman who said, “I believe that not being picked up by the market was a blessing in disguise. It allowed me to work undisturbed, at my own pace and in my own way.” A woman who cared for her family while creating art for herself. A woman who threw the roast out the window when her family did not rush to the dinner table to show gratitude for the meal she prepared. A woman who represented the United States at the Venice Biennale in 1993. A woman who used artwork to explore the deepest parts of her psyche. A woman who showed great courage, strength and force, eventhough she appeared petite and frail outwardly.

I could go on to discuss her tumultuous childhood, her move from France to America with her husband, how she has grown as an artist over her long and eventful life. But why? All you have to do is look at her artwork. Every piece is personal; every piece represents a feeling and a moment in her life.

Her magnificent life continues in her prolific and magnificent body of work.

* photo of Louise Bourgeois by Annie Leibovitz, [source: www.nytimes.com]