Welcome to Bronwen’s Biography

Bronwen Edwards was born June first 1948 in upstate New York. She grew up with brother Eugene, sister Irene, and sister Barbara. Her father was a politician, her mother an avid reader and original dumpster diver. Apparently in the fifties most people thought she was crazy, however she managed to acquire some amazing antiques and paintings over the years. Needless to say, her mother was quite eclectic, and obviously an influence in my mother’s art career. No one is exactly sure when her life as an artist began, she was a part of the bohemian crowd in high school, often seen smoking cigarettes in the parking lot before school. She ended up winning the heart of an achievement oriented football star named Raymond Ross and they later wed. She gave birth to daughter Rachel and three years later a son named Aaron. These two children became her main mission in life. In 1979 Ray went from operating a small awning shop to a regional sales manager for the largest textile manufacturer in the world. Life had changed and our family moved to Indianapolis. It was there I remember some remodeling took place, and she took her brand new walk in closet and turned it into an art studio. You can imagine my father’s after coming home to find her closet was now a studio and his closet had become hers. Ahh...life’s irony. It was in this closet however that an obvious God given gift was realized, but still took decades to develop.

It was in this house however that my parents relationship began to deteriorate past the point of no return. In all fairness, they were both to blame and admitted that freely. They divorced in 1983. Dad moved to Missouri, and after a brief move to Atlanta mom settled in Destin Florida after a man asked her to design greeting cards full time. This was her big break as an artist. And for several years she was the epitome of artistic success. This came to a screeching halt when she decided to design some figurines for a third party. Hurt and jealous, this man from Florida, we’ll call him Slim Shady for lack of a more dignified persona, decided never to pay her royalties again. This was something to which he was bound contractually for life. Things turned for his favor when her attorney actually lost her contract, the one thing that in a court of law would have held him accountable for his actions. My mother was devastated, Slim Shady continued to reap enormous profits and never paid her a cent. Spilled milk at this point, not a gallon but a tanker truck. I’d like to say that he was the only “horse trader” she fell in with but the art world is rife with these people.

Things finally turned around when she started a new project with a man named Bob Parrish, A former titan of the chicken industry, and good friend. Theirs was an interesting endeavor involving Victorian calling cards, invitations and stationery. This was profoundly successful and they both did quite well. Various other projects followed, most were only marginally successful. Licensing doesn’t usually work out well for an artist in this world, companies pay you for your images they use on their products based on what they sell. Unfortunately the artist many times becomes an afterthought when they already have the art. Hence the term “starving artist”. After much of this she finally relocated to Missouri to be closer to her children, who were mostly grown by now.

She settled in a town called Jackson, and after another failed marriage, she decided she was better off alone. So there she was in Jackson, probably the happiest I’d ever seen her. She decided she loved chickens and kept many. She also kept a pair of ridiculous pigmy goats that were loads of fun. Her life progressively grew more focused on animals, an obvious relation to her artwork. She admittedly retreated to a fantasy world where kitties wore shoes, and the fox wore a top coat with tails, and everybody had a wonderful and decadent name. Fagan Haslip, Emmet Peacock, Sam Goody were a few who were discussed on a daily basis, and all had a place in her fantasy world. The deeper she delved into this world, the more fantastic it became. She described these creatures with love and as if she had just had tea with them and had known them for years. In some sense she did. In the late 70’s she had started a manuscript about a town called harmony grove that involved these and many other characters. She wrote the book, illustrated the book, kept the illustrations, and decided she didn’t like the story, and threw it away. Just one of many things about my mother that didn’t make much sense, but that is what made her an artist.

Life in Jackson was good for her. A busy art desk, lots of animals, and many side projects. One in particular was a beautiful topiary built around a toilet plunger. I stopped by one day to find her putting the finishing touches on this thing of beauty, these wonderful vines she had found in the woods seemed a perfect material for intertwining around the plunger just so. She just couldn’t stop scratching her arms. Upon closer inspection, we determined that these wonderful vines just so happened to be none other than poison ivy. After a round of steroids, she was as good as new. Obviously an eclectic woman.

Bronwen was of course meticulous in nature and appearance. She adored the Victorian era and really dressed the part. Sundays were always interesting. She would walk through the doors at church dressed to the nines in full Victorian regalia, complete with an enormous hat and gloves to match. She would absolutely light up the room, and if the hat and gloves didn’t do it, her loud voice and infectious laughter would. You couldn’t help but smile. She eventually grew lonely enough for her children to move even closer to them and finally moved to Springfield where Rachel and I had settled with our own families. This was to be her last move.

It was around this time that she was approached by a group of investors from the Atlanta area who wanted to start a new greeting card company, She enthusiastically agreed. The past few years had been difficult for her financially. It was for this company that her finest works were achieved. Her craft and talent had come to its full realization and these pieces paled any of her previous efforts. She had designed 88 cards in all and published “Mouse Mischief” with Briar Patch Creations. It was much to everyone’s sadness that she was diagnosed with cancer in October of that year, and everything Briar Patch was doing fell apart. To his credit I must thank Wes Sarginson, Briar Patch president for taking care of my mother until she died. Most people would have pulled the plug before she was gone.  We had seven weeks from the time she was diagnosed till she died. Needless to say it was a shock to all. My wife was actually in the hospital giving birth to my first son while my mother was two floors up dying. Again life’s irony. We had just enough time to say goodbye, and she held my son one time before she died.

It has been seven years since she left us, most of my children she has never met. That will always be sad but it gets a little easier every year. I wish I could say the same for her artwork. It’s not so much a blessing versus a curse, but more like a hard blessing. In my adult years I am certainly finding it easier to relate to my mother’s tormented artist mentality. To have something so beautiful and want only to share it with the world, as the saying goes: It is easier said than done. Now the promotion of my mother’s artwork and legacy seems to fall squarely on our shoulders, and God willing, we’ll make her proud.