Ree Morton's work explores what it means to be a woman, an artist, and a mother. 

Morton began her career in art later in life. First, she had to get through her domestic period. She married a naval officer named Ted Morton, and they had three children by the time she reached the age of twenty-five. Due to her hubby’s work, the family moved around a lot, and wherever they went, Morton sought out art classes. 

Earlier in life, at the age of three, Morton loved to watch ants going about their daily business. Her parents incorrectly assumed this hobby to denote an interest in science, but Morton later said she was simply interested in life. Because of this mix-up, instead of heading to art school, she made the detour to nursing school. It wasn’t until she was unhappily working in a hospital that she came to the revelation that "Hey, maybe I’m not supposed to be here."

By 1968, Morton achieved a BFA from the University of Rhode Island. Due to a  divorce, Morton would become both a single mother to her three children, and an artist, simultaneously. She made the move to Pennsylvania with the kids and relied on suburban basements for makeshift studios. In 1970, at thirty-four years old, Morton graduated with an MFA. Two years later, she dropped the kids off with their dad in Pennsylvania and left for New York, moving into her own apartment where she could fully commit to her work.

Morton was always torn between being an artist and a mother. Doubt plagued her, as evidenced in her many notebooks. On top of her own guilt, society added plenty more, not fully accepting a mother who didn’t care for her children full time. Though it should be noted that her divorce was civil, and Morton and her ex shared custody of the kids. In fact, just a year after she moved to New York, they holidayed together in Canada. 

If there was one word Morton had an issue with, it was “commitment", which she said had "a lot of implications that I couldn’t accept.” Her dislike of the word may have originated from know-it-all art school teachers, who believed artists should be fully committed to their work, not half in, half out. This wasn’t an easy task when Morton, as even when her kids were living long-distance, she devoted much of her time to them.

Morton had been making art for almost a decade when she died in a car crash in 1977. Later that day, she was expected at a party, where many of her colleagues at the Art Institute learned of her death. The following day would be her art opening at the Walter Kelly Gallery in Chicago. Upon her death, Morton left notebooks behind, a couple of which she abruptly labeled ‘do not read’, and were destroyed by compassionate friends and family. What’s left is the body of work she created between 1968 and 1977: pioneering post-minimalist installation art and feminist sculptures with humorous references to womanhood and domesticity. 

It is sad to think what more Morton could have achieved had she been able to live and create into her old age. She is survived by her children, who, in their youth, felt somewhat abandoned when their mother took off for the big city. Today, they speak proudly of their daring, courageous, and artistic role model.