Welcome to the fifth in the summer series of Little Windows. Bite sized peeks at art historical objects that tell stories of global connections, creative encounters and adaptations. Each piques my curiosity and creativity, and I hope will do the same for you.
A little window to open once a week.
It’s hot and all aspects of my life have melted into one bubbling soup that keeps running through my fingers because my own two hands are not enough to contain it all.
Still, August is here. I’ve deleted Instagram and Gmail from my phone and set an out of office message thanking people for their patience. We closed the curtains on the heat, watched movies, and walked to the park for ice-cream when we’d normally be doing bedtime stories. We talked about when I lived in Cambodia and the different rhythms of the day somewhere so hot. Don’t rush
Now it’s cooler and everyone else is asleep. I’m in my study and the heat of the day has melted a fancy Jo Malone candle bought for me after my baby was born. This small room - which is now crammed with detritus from all aspects of my life: books, papers, old school shoes, baby books, laundry - smells divine.
I’m reminded of Montien
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