In the spring of 1905, a five-year-old girl named Leah Berliawsky boarded a steamship bound for Boston. Traveling with her were her mother Minna, her older brother Nachman, and her baby sister Chaya. The close-knit Russian Jewish family was on their way across the Atlantic Ocean to America to reunite with Leah’s father, Isaac. It was the last leg of a three-month journey—and the first step in Leah’s transformation into Louise Nevelson, one of the most celebrated sculptors of the twentieth century.

Leah’s new home would be different from the one she left behind. In Russia, Leah was raised in a shtetl, a small town where Jewish families lived according to traditional customs. Her earliest memories were of marketplaces teeming with peasant women and peddlers haggling in a centuries-old language called Yiddish.

The shtetl was a happy environment for Leah. But Russia at that time could also be a dangerous place for Jewish people, who often faced discrimination because of their religion.

When Leah was three years old, her father decided to seek a fresh start in the United States. He promised to send for his family once he got established. Leah was so her upset at her father’s departure that she stopped talking for six months. At first, her mother was afraid she’d been struck deaf or mute. But Leah was just quietly protesting the separation of her family.

Leah used this time of silence to develop her powers of observation. Because she wouldn’t ask for anything, she had to learn by watching others. She became more aware of colors, gazing with rapt attention as her grandmother soaked wool clothing in brightly colored vegetable dyes to turn them different shades.

By 1905, Isaac Berliawsky had finally saved up enough money to pay for his family’s passage to his new home in America. Minna and the children loaded all their belongings into a wagon for the start of the voyage. After traveling overland to the German city of Hamburg, they boarded a cramped ocean liner crowded with hundreds of other immigrants just like them.

The lower deck of the boat was more unpleasant than Leah could have imagined. People huddled together for warmth, or they jostled for a share of the paltry helpings of soup being ladled out by the ship’s cooks. Foul smells lingered in the air as bouts of seasickness rolled through the passengers on board. When an outbreak of measles struck, Leah’s family was forced to spend six weeks under quarantine in Liverpool, England. That turned out to be a lucky break. It was there that Leah made two discoveries that impressed her forever.

Because she spoke no English, Leah communicated through her eyes, not her mouth. On one of her strolls around Liverpool, she visited a candy shop for the first time. Row after row of glass jars, each filled with a different-colored hard candy, glimmered under the bright lights inside the shop. After spending so much time in the dark, dank hold of a steamship, Leah felt as if she were seeing a rainbow.

Leah’s second important discovery happened when she was playing with some girls. Leah watched in amazement as one of the girls picked up a doll and its eyes opened, then closed again when it was set down. Leah had never seen anything like it back in Russia. Surely the doll must be magic, she thought. Would her new home on the other side of the ocean be filled with wonders such as this?

Once the quarantine was lifted, Leah and her family were allowed to board the ship and proceed to Boston. They were met there by a Russian-born relative named Joseph Dondis. He explained to Leah’s mother that the children should change their names to better fit in among Americans. Leah became Louise, Nachman became Nathan, and Chaya became Annie. Joseph then secured them passage on yet another boat that would reunite them with Isaac in the city where he had settled: Rockland, Maine.

The next day, the Berliawskys arrived in their new hometown. Isaac met them at the wharf and brought them to the rooming house where they would live for the next several years. But if Louise thought the hard times were over now that she had arrived in America, she was wrong. Just as on the ship, the Berliawskys found themselves fighting for space. The rooming house was teeming with fellow immigrants.

Not only that, but discrimination had not been left behind, either. Louise soon discovered that hers was one of only a handful of Jewish families in town. Although they were treated better than they had been in Russia, Louise still felt like an outsider.

At school, Louise struggled with English. Kids teased her for speaking Yiddish and for the flamboyant clothes her mother bought for her. Fancy dresses and feathered hats were considered signs of sophistication back in Russia. But in Maine, where people dressed more plainly, they were thought of as strange.

School offered one bright spot, however. Louise loved her art class. From the moment she arrived in America, Louise spent all her free time drawing. It was her way of escaping from the unfamiliar world in which she found herself, and it allowed her to express her feelings without using words. One day, her teacher brought in colored chalk. Like the rainbow candies she had seen in the sweets shop in Liverpool, the chalk seemed to stir something inside her.

Another time, when Louise was in second grade, her teacher showed a picture of a sunflower and asked the class to draw it from memory. While the other students tried to reproduce the image exactly, Louise drew the sunflower as she saw it in her mind’s eye: a large brown circle surrounded by tiny yellow petals. The teacher held up Louise’s imaginative drawing for special praise, declaring it the most original interpretation in the class. It was the first time Louise had been singled out for something positive.

After that, Louise began studying with a drawing teacher named Lena Cleveland. At first, Miss Cleveland thought Louise was copying her drawings out of a book. But soon she realized Louise was working hard to improve her skills. Louise also liked that Miss Cleveland came to class wearing a bright purple coat and hat. Maybe, Louise thought, her own style of dress wasn’t so odd after all.

Slowly, Louise began to feel more comfortable in her adopted country. With new-found confidence, she started to think about pursuing a career in art. It took a chance encounter with a great medieval heroine to help her decide what type of artist she wanted to be.

That encounter took place one day when she was nine years old. Louise went to the Rockland Public Library, where she saw a sculpture of Joan of Arc made entirely of plaster. Like many old statues, this one was covered in a thin greenish layer called a patina. The figure had an otherworldly glow that left a powerful impression in Louise’s imagination.

As Louise was leaving, the librarian asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. “An artist!” Louise blurted out without even thinking. Then she paused and reconsidered. “I’m going to be a sculptor,” she said. “I don’t want color to help me.”

And so it was decided. Louise Berliawsky—who would become Louise Nevelson after marrying Charles Nevelson in 1920—grew up to become one of the most original American sculptors of the twentieth century. She worked almost exclusively in black and white, but when she added color to her sculptures, she did so with a purpose. Late in life, she completed a series of sculptures painted entirely in gold. It was her way of acknowledging her immigrant experience. When her family left Russia, Louise said, “They promised that the streets of America would be paved in gold.”

Like many immigrants, Louise Nevelson discovered that the path to prosperity was a lot rougher than she had anticipated. But through tenacity, perseverance, and a dedication to her art, she forged a golden ending all her own.