From Publishers Weekly
Arguably America's most popular painter, O'Keeffe (1887–1986) receives a full, too full, biography from art critic Drohojowska-Philp in her book debut. The first section reaches back four full decades before the artist's birth to O'Keeffe's immigrant grandparents' Wisconsin farm, and forward through O'Keeffe's studies (Art Institute of Chicago; Art Students League, New York), her jobs (commercial artist, art teacher) and her romances with various artists and others. The midsection, covering 1918–1946, details the New York years, O'Keeffe's relationship with photographer and art dealer Alfred Stieglitz and her blossoming as a painter. The New Mexico decades between Stieglitz's death and O'Keeffe's (1947–1986), years of large canvases, honors and aging, complete the triptych. O'Keeffe was a prolific artist (more than 900 works), and Drohojowska-Philp seems driven to remark on as many as can be squeezed in. Notably greater detail about Dorothy Norman, who became Stieglitz's lover, and John Hamilton, who attended O'Keeffe during the last decade of her life, mark the book, but are all but buried beneath a paralyzing avalanche of tiresome detail and hollow data: "At four-thirty in the morning, [O'Keeffe] watched the sun rise over the glacial lake." Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.


From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com
From a publisher's perspective, some biographical subjects seem to approach the inexhaustible. As I write this review, I can see on my shelves several books each about Fitzgerald, Hemingway, JFK, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and Frida Kahlo, most published within a decade of one another. Is Georgia O'Keeffe destined to join this company? Is she already there? For a woman who wanted her admirers to focus on her art, not her life, her personal story is simply too striking (and too pertinent to modern gender politics) to be ignored. Laurie Lisle led the way with her appreciative portrait of the artist in 1980; Roxana Robinson took another step forward with her more critical full-length biography in 1989; and, in 1991, Benita Eisler brought O'Keeffe's relationship with photographer and art dealer Alfred Stieglitz to a mythologizing height in O'Keeffe and Stieglitz: An American Romance. In between and after these capable writers, dozens of monographs, biographical studies and catalogue essays have explored every aspect of O'Keeffe's life, including her formative experiences in Texas, her relation to New York modernism, her ties to Stieglitz and the other men in their circle, her feminism, her anti-feminism, her New Mexico years. It could be argued, though, that all this disparate material needed to be synthesized to provide a vivid account based on newly available papers and interviews with contemporaries who had been less than forthcoming when she was alive. Lengthy, balanced and serious as it is, I am not sure Hunter Drohojowska-Philp's book is quite that. The outlines of the story are well-known. Born in Wisconsin in 1887 to an aloof mother and a likable but emotionally unsupportive father, Georgia O'Keeffe was raised in the heartland and in Virginia. Her childhood seems to have been neither brutally deprived nor overly loving. ("I was not a favorite child," she once commented.) Moving to New York to study art when she was 20 was a pivotal decision. Between the new work she absorbed in Manhattan's more advanced galleries and her fascination with the landscape of the Southwest, acquired when she worked as a teacher in Texas from 1916 to 1918, she was as psychologically and professionally prepared to let go of the past and enter an uncharted future as any artist of her generation. For many of us, the early watercolors and forays into color abstraction are among her most striking, original creations. Later, her precisionist city scenes, floral paintings and New Mexico landscapes achieved a tenuous but intriguing balance between representational and modernist principles, and many have become iconic images in American art. Until her death at 99, O'Keeffe remained the kind of painter she always wanted to be -- unaffiliated with any particular movement, a rare combination of severe and lyrical -- and the kind of artist mid-century America craved, a female celebrity with a tough-minded attitude about her power and persona. Those ends were not achieved with ease. Her evolution, as Full Bloom makes clear, was a matter of fits and starts, of uncertain yearnings and a healthy crankiness about being told who and what she must be. Not surprisingly, then, some of the most engrossing parts of this book are early chapters that give us Georgia O'Keeffe before she became "Georgia O'Keeffe." Too many biographies of major artists imply an implausible greatness and unvarying progress from earliest adulthood, but that isn't a trap Drohojowska-Philp falls into. O'Keeffe was also blessed with abundant good luck, especially in her relationships with male mentors. She studied under Arthur Wesley Dow, who urged his students to move beyond the narrow ideas about art and academic realism that dominated American life before World War I. She became involved with the avant-garde photographer Paul Strand, whose work influenced her thinking about abstraction, and -- most importantly -- with Stieglitz, who, as the most important art dealer of the day, launched her career and made possible her fame and spectacular sales. Her last, infirm years in rural New Mexico would have been much more trying had it not been for the attentions of Juan Hamilton, a companion 60 years her junior. Fiercely independent she might have been, but without these men, O'Keeffe's life would have taken a very different course. Yet her relationships with men, especially the much-older Stieglitz, whom she married, were tumultuous. Drohojowska-Philp provides a full, absorbing account of a union marked both by affection and manipulation. Neither Stieglitz nor O'Keeffe, emotionally needy and art-obsessed, would have had much use for a conventional spouse, but neither were they able to sustain their own, less traditional commitment. For O'Keeffe their bond turned out to be a kind of Faustian bargain. She began her life with the already-married Stieglitz as "the other woman" and, once she was established as a cultural force in her own right, was in turn relegated by him to the humiliating position of betrayed wife -- within a few years of their wedding. The author's access to the late Dorothy Norman, the married woman 40 years his junior whom Stieglitz became involved with in the 1920s until his death in 1946, was crucial in her examination of this aspect of O'Keeffe's life. For decades the wealthy and controlling Norman honed her own public image in Manhattan circles as an acolyte to a great seer, but the true picture is a little less genteel. In her need to worship at the feet of a great male ego, she seems to have been a woman of her time and class, directionless and breathlessly romantic. In her speculations to Drohojowska-Philp about O'Keeffe as a lesbian, she also comes across as robustly catty. No wonder O'Keeffe came to scorn the New York art world. Of course, O'Keeffe was not a likable person either, to put it mildly. Her rudeness and self-absorption knew no bounds. This fact shouldn't influence how we evaluate her art (my own view is that she is a fine but limited and far from great painter) and should be equally irrelevant to her worth as a biographical subject. One problem, though, is that she wasn't always unlikable in particularly interesting ways. Chronicling every snub, every arrogant gesture, every vindictive remark is a risky approach for any biographer, and we get an enormous amount of that flattening, numbing information in Full Bloom. Sometimes O'Keeffe's famously difficult temperament had less to do with ego and more to do with respect for her art and those who came to see it. Drohojowska-Philp describes the artist's 1966 trip to the Amon Carter Museum in Fort Worth to attend an exhibition of her work. Dismayed by the potted pine trees in the galleries and the glare on the glass that covered one of her best paintings, she took matters into her own hands when the curators proved unhelpful, talked her way past the guards before the museum opened the next morning, and got rid of the pines and the glass. I wouldn't describe these acts as "willful demonstrations" so much as a gutsy statement of passion and sound priorities. The more serious problem with Full Bloom, however, is its polite "Just the facts, ma'am" quality. Drohojowska-Philp's skills as a researcher and an organizer of her extensive material are never in question. There is an admirable crispness to her prose, and she offers sound commentaries on pictures, events and relationships. Yet memorable portraiture, narrative momentum and a distinctive authorial voice -- crucial skills needed to raise a biography to the level of craft we expect from a novel or an essay -- are just not her strong points. The people we meet in this book are a remarkable and eccentric lot by anybody's standards, but she often renders them through accumulations of facts and plausible quotations. She dutifully notes pain, expectation and delight but never truly evokes them. The book ends with a terseness O'Keeffe might have appreciated (or demanded, if she had any say in the matter), but it isn't appropriate to an immersion in a life we are meant to take as extraordinary, whose end should move us. The ashes are scattered, the estate is settled, the foundation is off and running, but where is the sense that the world is a lesser place without this woman in it? Death on the page should leave an ache. The reader's need for that kind of feeling isn't about cheap emotion or pandering to a tired myth. It's simply about gratitude for a life of struggle, originality and significant accomplishment.Reviewed by John Loughery Copyright 2004, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.


From Booklist
*Starred Review* After a decade of research, first-time biographer Drohojowska-Philp concludes that "Georgia O'Keeffe may be the best known and least understood artist of the twentieth century." In an effort to dispel the hagiographic nimbus surrounding this pioneering artist and finally bring the true story of her difficult life to light, Drohojowska-Philp reveals the strife that drove the artist's cash-poor family from its farm in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, to unhappy sojourns in the South, and discloses O'Keeffe's frustrations over the repeated interruptions to her education, her misery while working as a commercial artist, her transcendent experiences in rural Texas, and her arrival in New York while ill and destitute. Rescued by photographer and impresario Alfred Stieglitz, O'Keeffe quickly became one of the country's most successful artists, supporting them both. But as Drohojowska-Philp so empathetically reveals, O'Keeffe was not only offended by Stieglitz's presentation of her as a sensual intuitive (an impression bolstered by his famously intimate photographs) rather than an intelligent, purposeful, and gifted artist, she was also traumatized by his infidelity. O'Keeffe lived a long, adventurous, and profoundly productive life, and Drohojowska-Philp charts her triumphs over adversity in an involving, revelatory biography that attains the grand scope and depth her subject deserves. Donna Seaman
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved


Book Description
The untold story of an icon of twentieth-century art. Georgia O'Keeffe (1887-1986) was one of the most successful American artists of the twentieth century: her arresting paintings of enormous, intimately rendered flowers, desert landscapes, and stark white cow skulls are seminal works of modern art. But behind O'Keeffe's bold work and celebrity was a woman misunderstood by even her most ardent admirers. This large, finely balanced biography offers an astonishingly honest portrayal of a life shrouded in myth. When she was still unknown as an artist, O'Keeffe married Alfred Stieglitz, twenty-three years her senior and well established as a pioneer in art photography. The relationship was physically and intellectually passionate, but Stieglitz was a man of the world. Through the author's access to previously unavailable materials—including interviews with Dorothy Norman, Alfred Stieglitz's longtime paramour—we are offered new knowledge about O'Keeffe's defining relationships and the effect of her husband's infidelity. Driven to a nervous breakdown by the Norman affair, O'Keeffe relocated and redefined herself in New Mexico, where she created her unforgettable signature paintings. 16 pages of black-and-white illustrations, 32 color plates.


About the Author
Hunter Drohojowska-Philp is a regular contributor to publications including ARTnews, Art in America, Architectural Digest, and the Los Angeles Times. This is her first book. She lives in Beverly Hills, California.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

"Georgia O'Keeffe was one of the most successful artists of the twentieth century. She made enormous contributions to modern art, and in her seminal paintings of intimately rendered flowers, desert landscapes, and stark white cow skulls, she applied the photographic techniques of cropping and composition usually relegated to the camera lens. But behind O'Keeffe's bold work and celebrity was a woman misunderstood by even her most ardent admirers. This biography offers an honest portrayal of a life shrouded in myth." "When she was still unknown as an artist, O'Keeffe was discovered by Alfred Stieglitz, twenty-three years her senior and well established as a pioneer in art photography. The relationship was physically and intellectually passionate, and Stieglitz soon left his wife to marry O'Keeffe. But as O'Keeffe's career began to eclipse his own, Stieglitz turned his attention to another impressionable young woman, Dorothy Norman." "In Full Bloom, Hunter Drohojowska-Philp uncovers the woman behind the legend, revealing the life of the artist through her work, her letters, and dozens of interviews with those closest to O'Keeffe in her lifetime. As the first biographer to have interviewed Dorothy Norman, Drohojowska-Philp sheds new light on O'Keeffe's motivations to leave New York for New Mexico, where she effectively redefined herself." Drohojowska-Philp brings us much closer to understanding the genius of one of the greatest American painters. Rather than the bold, audacious woman most of us assume O'Keeffe always to have been, she emerges as a woman whose disappointments drove her to self-discovery - personally and artistically - far from the brilliance of Manhattan.

FROM THE CRITICS

The New Yorker

Georgia O’Keeffe’s long and prolific life lasted nearly a century, but much of it was comparatively uneventful. Her farmgirl childhood in Wisconsin and the retreat to New Mexico that occupied the second half of her life were separated by a glamorous period—a thirty-year sojourn in bohemian New York, where she was for a time the wife, muse, and protégée of the aging photographer Alfred Stieglitz. It was he who promoted her as an artist, and initially O’Keeffe struggled to assert her autonomy. Drohojowska-Philp’s biography painstakingly assembles the details of O’Keeffe’s life—love letters, financial problems, a schoolteacher who said that her drawing of a child’s hand was too small—but occasionally fails in the attempt to make them seem important in relation to the art. “Where I come from, the earth means everything,” O’Keeffe said, and she seems to have lived most of her life in accordance with this principle.

Publishers Weekly

Arguably America's most popular painter, O'Keeffe (1887-1986) receives a full, too full, biography from art critic Drohojowska-Philp in her book debut. The first section reaches back four full decades before the artist's birth to O'Keeffe's immigrant grandparents' Wisconsin farm, and forward through O'Keeffe's studies (Art Institute of Chicago; Art Students League, New York), her jobs (commercial artist, art teacher) and her romances with various artists and others. The midsection, covering 1918-1946, details the New York years, O'Keeffe's relationship with photographer and art dealer Alfred Stieglitz and her blossoming as a painter. The New Mexico decades between Stieglitz's death and O'Keeffe's (1947-1986), years of large canvases, honors and aging, complete the triptych. O'Keeffe was a prolific artist (more than 900 works), and Drohojowska-Philp seems driven to remark on as many as can be squeezed in. Notably greater detail about Dorothy Norman, who became Stieglitz's lover, and John Hamilton, who attended O'Keeffe during the last decade of her life, mark the book, but are all but buried beneath a paralyzing avalanche of tiresome detail and hollow data: "At four-thirty in the morning, [O'Keeffe] watched the sun rise over the glacial lake." (Sept.) Forecast: Almost everyone whose path crossed O'Keeffe's gets a life sketch here, and light touches are rare, but the wealth of data will keep this book on the scholarly rolls. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

For his first book, this ARTnews/Art in America contributor examines the betrayals that propelled O'Keeffe into the New Mexico desert. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews