In the weeks that have followed the last post, I’ve felt strong connection with some illustrations brought to me by a childhood flashback. The artist, Camilla Mickwitz, is probably most vividly imprinted in the subconsciousness of the 80s born Finns through a public safety campaign geared to keep kids off thin ice (which was the kind of thing parents worried about before internet.)
She also wrote and illustrated a series of stories about a 5-year-old Jason and his single mother Kaarina. Kaarina really is something of a subplot or the backdrop like all adults – the blockers and the enablers – generally are to children’s much more interesting lives. What we know about her is that she’s always running as she can’t be late for work; on her days off she loves getting her hair done; and to supplement her income she does some nude modelling, which is a bit random in a children’s story but consistent with the societal critique of the time that I’m not sure is apparent in today’s children’s literature.
I can most closely identify with the first two (although one day I should probably write a post about single mothering and lap dancing).
In the theme of this blog, never mind the glass ceiling, I’m worried about the thin ice on which my corporate race is run on.
Talking of which, this week we moved to a spare bedroom of my friend’s family home in NW3. Having thrown away almost everything that I thought was worth less than the health of my back, my material belongings could be fit in thirty one cardboard boxes.
I’m still undecided whether for a 31-year-old woman that speaks of a massive failure or some yet undefined achievement. What I do know is that even those will be a pain in the arse to ship to South America, when our current living arrangements have helped me finally save enough for our one way tickets. There may just be room for one more Jason book though: ‘Jason leaves the Country’.
“In order to change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one’s mind and psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use. I keep nothing to remind me of the passage of time, deterioration, loss, shriveling.”