Maira Kalman Does Have Regrets, Actually

In a collection of mini essays, poems and painted vignettes, the artist and writer reckons with remorse and joy.

“Everybody’s saying, ‘Well, what do you mean by remorse?’” said the artist Maira Kalman, whose latest book, “Still Life With Remorse,” is a meditation in words and pictures on the nature of remorse, memory and family lore.

“And I say regret is, ‘I’m sorry I ruined the roast, I’m sorry I didn’t come to your birthday party.’ Regret is OK,” she said. “Remorse is, ‘I’m sorry I ruined your life.’ Remorse is deep sorrow and guilt. There is more history. There’s more, ‘What did I do to somebody?’”

It was a late afternoon in early November, less than two weeks before Ms. Kalman’s 75th birthday. She was sitting in her apartment in Greenwich Village, drinking tea she had brewed with fresh mint.

She has lived there for more than 40 years, with her husband, the graphic designer Tibor Kalman, before he died in 1999, and raised their two children there: Lulu works in the culinary world, and Alexander is an artist who also works closely with Ms. Kalman on her projects. She has an art studio a few floors below in the same building.

The idea for the book came in part because of aging: “That sense of: What are the things that are wonderful? What do I want to do? What’s happened?” But also because she heard the word “remorse” a lot. “Over and over again in context, out of context,” she said. “And I thought, ‘Well, that’s interesting.’”

Ms. Kalman was at an artist residency in Italy when she began work. “I was sitting there looking at the ocean and thinking of one story after another about remorse, and I thought, ‘This is perfect, the perfect setting,’” she said with a laugh.