A woman of her time and ours, she has long suffered from both her dogged independence and a suspicious deference. Call her the New York School's Hillary Clinton, only home grown, a kid from the city. At least one state art curriculum that I know lists every well-known Abstract Expressionist but her. She started early, but her work never took off till her husband's death. And then it offers soft, earthen colors, reassuring themes, and more than a hint of Pollock's final drawings.
Titles refer to traditionally feminine associations, in rebirth and the seasons.
More often than not, what looks like bare canvas holds washes of oil. A show some years ago, at New York University, brought together works by her and her husband. It made a strong case for what they learned from each other. Take the rigor of Cubism, in the firm grid from her classes under Hans Hoffman, the painter of floating rectangles. More than ten years later, after two great retrospectives, I can check the dates.