5 years ago, I got pregnant and stopped painting due to the toxicity of the materials and dedicated my whole life to maternity. Back then, I thought of painting myself pregnant, floating on a river surrounded by nature. I never actually registered this moment. My son Leon was born, grew up, and the maternal life completely took hold of my time and my being.

 I got pregnant again, of a girl, Marie. She was born and, with her, the mother who would teach a girl how to be a woman. I stepped into feminism, felt empowered. I realized all the standards society imposed upon my body lost their meaning, it was perfect: it generated, gave birth to, and nourished my children. 

The image of the mother surrounded was present, I still felt close to this feeling of immersion, but the scene didn’t make sense in the vastness of a cold river now: how would I shelter and comfort my offspring there? Nature came as a house, in a bathtub with my daughter. We could enjoy our moment of shared loneliness.