Before Georgia O'Keefe redefined the desert landscapes of New Mexico and Frida Kahlo revolutionized the art of self-portraiture, Emily Carr blazed a trail onto the early 20th century art scene with her boldly modern and inventive renditions of the British Columbian landscape. With her uncompromising brushstrokes and against all odds, she was able to capture not only the fading wilderness slowly marred by encroaching industrialization and assimilation, but also the indigenous villages, the tribal peoples, and their dying customs and art forms. With great detail, Vreeland conveys how Carr overcame self-doubt and grew to believe in her own passion and ability and chose, at no small cost, to live a life less ordinary. From illegal potlatches in tribal communities in the interior and a tryst with a French fur trader to Paris in 1911, where she was part of the birth of modernism and cubism, Carr's story is as arresting and vibrant as her many canvases. Above all, it is the story of a woman who faced hypocrisy and injustice, and was always true to herself and to her art.