for Maria Farrar "Overseas": A journey of femininity

Text by BuBu de la Madeleine 

Oh. She is currently turning her back to me. With some hesitation, I begin to observe her, sensing an opportunity to be "inquisitive". The audience is guaranteed a full view of her and her surroundings.

We usually stare at "objects" that we find a little curious or intriguing - on the street, in front of a show window, in a closed room. Or, at times, we spy on them, taking care not to be noticed. The pastry flaunts its burnt edges and gives us a glimpse of its creamy texture. Fruits are displayed in such a way that their ripeness and the protrusions are effectively visible, with no way to deny that they are a metaphor for all genitalia. Both the bread and the fruit exude the taste, smell and nourishment that we expect.

Maria sends me, a woman, a sign. I love the bright colours on the inside of the pumps. The sheen and print of a dress or apron reminds me of the feel and smell of the fabric. Their designs remind me of a certain film, an actress or a certain era. I am also implicitly proud of the thickness of the arms and calves as a sign of labour.

Maria and I have something in common. She wrote in one of her texts that her mother had at one time worked as a hotel room attendant and was proud of it. My mother did the same job for a while. It was not a hotel, but a simpler accommodation. She changed the sheets in the lodgings used for pleasure by American soldiers who were stationed in Japan after the war. Maria's mother and my mother are from different generations and backgrounds. But this episode of hers, combined with the crisp and strength of her work in colour, composition and touch, reminds me that women have survived for themselves and their families, and it empowers me.