Siren's Return

A very opportune time to pull the pregnancy card and remember Ashley Stewart Rodder

---

When I got pregnant, I didn’t think much about the implications of it. I thought: why not? My husband and I are married, we’ve been together for five years. What are we waiting for?

But as one of the first of my friends to embark on this journey, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. Probably for the best.

For a girl who usually jets off to the next art fair and is always having one too many cosmos at the end of the night, my identity took an abrupt shift

Instead of worrying about how I was going to make it to the next big event, I was taking the temperature of my daily baths and avoiding omakase. Instead of buzzing around NYC to see clients, I was passed out involuntarily at 3 p.m.

For the first time in my life, I was forced to slow down, physically and mentally, and wrap my mind around the idea that I was no longer just living for myself. I was bringing life into this world.

The hiatus from Substack, although I’ve continued writing articles as Editor-at-Large for Cultured, was more of a personal choice. I felt somewhat crippled by the lack of identity pregnancy bestowed on me and wasn’t sure there was much left in the tank.

The number of times I wrote this Substack, rewrote it, and then deleted it would make your head spin. But transparently, every time I tried to write about art, I felt inauthentic. It felt strange to casually speak about shows I was seeing when I was completely consumed by the existential crisis of an impending new title: Mom.

This all changed for me when I lost my dear friend and colleague, Ashley Stewart Rodder. Something about that loss made me realize that the perfectionism I had been chasing, the idea of getting Substack right or not doing it at all, was meaningless when time was never promised.

Ashley was a force to be reckoned with. She carried herself with both poise and grace while firmly holding her ground as a woman in the art world.

I remember vividly the first day I met her at Gagosian. She had come to an opening downtown, and I remember giggling to myself as I overheard her conversation with one of the male colleagues. He was prying into her background, asking question after question, and she tactfully navigated the minefield, sharing only what she wanted to. She was the polar opposite of my overt openness, and I wanted to be just like her.

So naturally, I forced my friendship on her, and from that point forward we shared many of our big life moments together. I like to think that I cracked the shell a bit and managed to make her laugh at some of my wild antics throughout these years.

But in that same private vein, she kept her sickness unknown…even from friends like me.

When you love someone, you can tell they are suffering or carrying something heavy. But when you really love someone, you let them handle it the way they want to. You continue your friendship exactly as it has always been and let them lead the way. In this case, I did just that.

Ashley wanted to have fun with me. She wanted to talk about art world tea. She wanted to spend time outside of work in the Hamptons with Felix, Harrison, and me. Most importantly, she wanted to maintain a sense of normalcy.

Although I didn’t get to say my goodbyes, I know that preserving the lightness and ease of our friendship was what she needed. I’m comforted knowing the special place we held, and will always hold, in each other’s hearts.

I will miss her impeccable style, her quick-witted responses, her ability to talk me off my more insane ledges, and the infectious laugh I was always desperate to pull out of her.

The world will miss someone who genuinely cared about her artists and her work, and who was bound to continue pushing the agenda forward for women in the art world. She never slowed down, not even in her final days.

She will be deeply missed by everyone who knew her, and even by those who only heard about her and the impact she made.

I miss her every day, but I’m so grateful for the time we did have. A forever tattoo on my heart and a voice of reason in my head.

Ashley, thank you for getting me out of this funk and reminding me to embrace the time I do have.

Back next week with some art talk (unless I give birth).

xx SC