He doesn't say what he thinks of my paintings, but I know anyway. He thinks they are irrelevant. In his mind, what I paint is lumped in with the women who paint flowers. Lumped is the word. The present tense is moving forward, discarding concept after concept, and I am off to the side somewhere, fiddling with egg tempera and flat surfaces, as if the twentieth century has never happened. There is freedom in this: because it doesn't matter what I do, I can do what I like
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The narrator reflects on the perception others have of her artwork, feeling that it is dismissed as insignificant. She senses that her style, particularly her use of traditional techniques, is categorized alongside trivial subjects like flower painting, indicating a lack of relevance to contemporary art. This categorization results in a sense of alienation from the evolving art world around her.
Despite this marginalization, she finds a sense of liberation in her work. Since she believes her art is not taken seriously, she feels free to explore her interests without pressure. This freedom allows her to create authentically, embracing her unique approach to painting even as the world moves forward, leaving her behind in her traditional methods.
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