Last September I posted this image on my Instagram feed:
It was the end of the summer holidays and I was sad that our days of camping and trips out and messing about in the garden were over. I was also exhausted by juggling hemmed in and heavy with the weight of New School Term admin.
I felt like that image. Ensconced an/or imprisoned. It is one is a decades-long series of Femme Maison works, which Bourgeois began in the 1940s. In painting and sculpture, nude women are obscured, skewered, or seemingly trapped within a house. And there is all of the nuance, ambivalence, and humour that characterises Bourgeois’ work.
These femmes are funny.
There was a necessary rejection of the domesticity of the maternal experience by Western feminists in the 1960s, as epitomised in Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique, which highlighted the oppressive effect that being a housewife and mother had on – largely white, middle class – women. It was the important unmasking of the dark side of the 1950s suburban housewife.
Yet the oppressiveness of the home is not comprehensive nor universal. In the 1980s bell hooks argued that, historically, people of colour had vastly different experiences and opportunities in how they could organise their family life. hooks, therefore, rejected the characterisation of the domestic sphere as universally oppressive. She saw parenting and the associated domesticity as ‘one of the few interpersonal relationships where [working-class women and/or women of colour] are affirmed and appreciated’.
The home can be an empowering, enjoyable place. But I also need a horizon. As the primary parent of two children, who works from home, this sphere can sometimes feel quite suffocating.
Little Windows
I’ve often said I wrote my book, MILK, during my first maternity leave. This statement is accurate. And it gives a neat shorthand description of why and when I wrote the book. But it is also completely misleading.
See, the idea for MILK did come to me early in my first maternity leave, when I thought: hey this breastfeeding lark is nothing like I’ve seen in any pictures or read about in any antenatal literature!
So I started picking at the thread. A little Google here. A delve into the online archives there. A few pages of a book on the Kindle during the night feed. Each was a little window out of my maison, providing me with bites of information and inspiration that I could digest later on.
And then - during those walks around the park with the buggy, or while soothing my baby to sleep or chopping vegetables - my mind would start making connections. Sometimes, I’d have the chance to type the note into my phone, but mostly the book lived and grew in my head.
Eventually, I got enough child free time to write a book proposal. And then I got a book deal with an advance that allowed me to pay for more childcare.
But the only reason the book managed to get written - in my head and then on paper - were those little windows which allowed me to engage in worlds beyond me, which in turn helped me navigate the matrescent world I found myself in.
I'm currently teaching a course on Southeast Asian art at a university in Vietnam (online unfortunately). As I prepare my lectures, I realise how fortunate I am to have this work that allows me to engage in fascinating objects and histories and worlds beyond my own four walls.
These objects tell stories of global connections, of place-making, and gift giving. They tell of creative encounters and adaptations. They pique my curiosity, open up new ways of thinking, and allow me to return to my domestic life feeling a little more refreshed and renewed.
Let me open some windows
So I'd like to share some of these finds - as well as other amazing fragments of material culture with you. Starting from next week until the start of September, I'll share an object or art work, with a brief history, followed by a creative prompt.
A little window to open once a week.
These will arrive in the inboxes of paid subscribers on a Sunday afternoon. The first will arrive on 7th July.
There is no pressure to share anything in response to the posts, but I’d gently encourage people to share something in the comments - either to a piece of creative writing or reflections on the image or its history.
I hope you can join me, I’m having such fun choosing art works to share x
****Of course, I’m not promising these will help you write a book. Nor do I think anyone should aim to write a book during a maternity leave or summer holiday! It's a kind of madness.
I love this idea of little windows and cannot wait to glimpse in. As the primary caregiver to my 2 year old daughter, I relate fully to how you described the access to these windows were what allowed you to write MILK. It also feels inspiring to know that yes, these packets of time where I can jot something quickly into my notes app for a long term project can amount to something.