Just as Edna’s character is neither all good nor all bad, as an artist, she is neither a brilliant painter nor a talentless hack. One key difference between Edna and a serious visual artist is that Edna does not use her art to express her discontent. On her bad days, “when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium,” she is not inspired by the darkness of human experience and emotion, as the great painters are. She can paint only when she is happily alive and reveling in the sensuality of existence.
While she does not seek to become a great artist, focusing instead on the satisfaction she feels in the process of creation itself, she is devoted to spending her time as her own person rather than as a possession or employee of Léonce. She persists in her art despite Léonce’s criticism and Mademoiselle Reisz’s friendly but authentic derision. Mademoiselle Reisz warns her about the fate of those who seek to “soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice” but who lack the fortitude to maintain flight. Relating her words to Arobin later, Edna remarks “I’m not thinking of any extraordinary flights.” This response indicates Edna’s utter lack of ambition and foresight; distracted by thoughts of Robert, she does not heed the warning. Meanwhile, her focus on process over result almost allows her to have the best of both worlds: the freedom of Mademoiselle Reisz with the security of Madame Ratignolle. Part of the novel’s message, however, is that she cannot have it all.
Edna admits her lack of artistry to Léonce, agreeing with his assessment that she is not, in fact, a true painter. “It isn’t on account of painting that I let things go,” she tells him. She is not driven to rebel so that she can pursue art; she just has more time for it after she decides to place her desire for solitude before all other external demands. Most importantly, her atelier (studio or workshop) at the top of the house provides her with a private place within her home. Léonce has his own office retreat but doesn’t see the value of a private sanctuary for Edna. He wants her, instead, to spend more time in the main rooms of the house directing the domestic traffic.
Yet Edna breaks interesting ground in her little studio. There is rebellion in her choice of subject: Calling her children up to the atelier to sketch them was safe and predictable for a woman painter but making the quadroon the subject of a portrait—in Louisiana, in the 1890s—was a daring move, unprecedented for actual artists at the time. Then Edna brings up the maid, Ellen, for a portrait and has her loosen her hair from the protective housemaid’s cap—a vote for impractical sensuality over domestic practicality.
Such bold steps taken confidently impact her work positively: Her teacher-turned-broker, Laidpore, is able to sell her paintings and illustrations as her work “grows in force and individuality.” Her art enables her, in part, to support herself financially, to fund her independence. The sale of her paintings therefore helps to liberate her from Léonce: By refusing his bounty, she frees herself from his definition of her as one of his possessions.
Like her passion for Robert, art is an escapist venture for Edna because of her devotion to process over product. Ultimately, Edna does not pursue art as a means to achieve self-realization or provide insight about the world around her but merely to escape that world.
