Click here to listen.

This post tells the story of an exception to the rule of thumb: Never meet your heroes.
In the early ’70s, when my art students from Westhill High School competed in the state’s Scholastic Art Awards annual competition, we were upstaged and outshone by Norwalk High School’s Art Department under the leadership of department head, Mary Quinlan. Her pupils won first prize in every category while mine took home honorable mentions.
Attending the event in Hartford, I noticed Ms. Quinlan from a distance. She had a Prince Valiant haircut, an angelic face, and a confident posture as she stood surrounded by her students at the exhibit.
I was intimidated.
Several years later, in my home studio located a short distance from Norwalk High, I was successfully running my egg decorating business and needed help. I wondered if my role model, still at the helm nearby, might have a student to recommend as an intern. I gathered up my courage and placed a call asking to meet her.
We made an immediate connection and for several years, Mary sent me her top art students, usually for a year or two, until they graduated. It was mutually beneficial. The young women got to apprentice with a ‘real’ artist, listen to the conversations I had with vendors and clients, and experience the flow of my creative enterprise. An Egg by Jane, my company, flourished with the talent and youth she sent me. Her students helped me with production work, packaging and shipping. One junior, referred by Mary, edited my first volume, Decorating Eggs: Exquisite Designs with Wax & Dye.
In the early 2000’s Mary called me with good news and bad news. The good news was that she was retiring. The bad news was that my talent source would cease to be.
To keep the connection going, I invited Mary to join the Artsy Girls. She also became a member of Jane Pollak’s Art Forum (affectionately called JPAF) – a year-long mastermind group. After her retirement, and with my coaching and the group’s support, she became a full-time painter.
Like many artists, there can be limiting voices that are both loud and demanding. As a coach, and for my own benefit, I helped my clients and myself using an exercise–creating an alter ego–to counter those critical thoughts. Mary’s was “Vanessa,” a tough Biker Chick. Always the good student, Mary easily adopted that persona when coached to do so.
During one of our group sessions, Mary was hesitant about calling an arts center to show her work. I asked if Vanessa had any thoughts on the subject. Mary quickly channeled “Vanessa” who immediately responded, “Hell, yes! We’re doing it!” It thrilled Mary and us to witness the power shift within her. She—and “Vanessa”–moved through this daunting task that led to a display of her art soon after. From that point forward, Mary exhibited her work for years and won prizes for her talent.
Last week, I emailed an invitation to the Artsy Girls community for a reunion in August. The next day, I was excited to see my phone light up with Mary’s name.
“Jane?” a male voice greeted me when I picked up. It was Mary’s husband Dan calling to let me know that she had passed away a few weeks earlier.
Though I don’t believe he and I had ever met, we talked easily for 45 minutes about Mary – Dan telling me how much she’d talked about JPAF and my other coaching groups, and how she loved being an Artsy Girl. I told Dan how much I loved Mary and was inspired by her leadership, her tenacity and her support.
Looking through my files I found images of Mary’s artwork. Growing up in the Catholic school system and learning penmanship using the Palmer Method, Mary’s canvasses were composed of ethereal color studies and her personal marks which were reflective of that early training.

When I found these images, I was struck by how similar they were to my grid studies in felted wool. I hadn’t looked at Mary’s paintings in over a decade, but isn’t that the Big Magic that Elizabeth Gilbert writes about – a mystical transference* of ideas and images between women who are in relationship with each other.
Both of our works follow a structured layout and also allow a wildness beneath – a visual furnace in Mary’s and an undulating grayscale in mine.

I know this is an unusual topic for my publication, but the news about Mary’s death hit me deeply. It underscored how important it is to have fulfilling relationships – particularly with other creatives. I cherished knowing Mary, will miss her infinitely, and am so grateful that our lives were interconnected for so many years.
* In the book, Elizabeth Gilbert shares the story of working on a novel set in Brazil about an American middle-aged woman, but being distracted by other things. She believes she transmitted the idea to novelist Ann Patchett, whom she met at a book event, via a friendly kiss; later, she learned Patchett was working on an eerily similar plotline that became her 2011 novel State of Wonder. They had never discussed Gilbert’s half-finished novel. “My idea had grown tired of waiting, and had left me,” Gilbert writes. MACLEANS – SEPTEMBER 25, 2015
I am always sent into a period of reflection when I read these experiences you share. Most of my creative friends are still part of my life other than my grandmothers and mother. Time spent with them is precious and often a learning opportunity. Thank you.
@Jackie – So good to know that you understand. Thank you for your comment.
Jane,
Mary was my most favorite teacher in high school. I was stunned to learn that she had passed. She was a very important person to my young self. I think we got reacquainted at one of your events in 2008 or 2009.
She was dear to me.
I’m sorry for all of us.
Gini
Oh, Gini – I know how you feel, and I’m very sorry to have passed on news you hadn’t yet heard. She was extremely special and so understated in her talents and character. Thank you for letting me know how you felt. I wish there were a memorial service or something so we Mary-lovers could gather and share our powerful memories.