By Shweta Bist
I have a constant beef with Time. I don’t like how every second becomes history in a flash. There are moments I don’t want to let go of, I can get that attached. So, I use photography to subvert the impermanence of Time and hold these moments for as long as I want.
Fig. 1, Shweta Bist, Intro to a ‘Joe Bell,’ Outer Banks, NC, 2013
One of my favorite places to be is behind the viewfinder. My daughters often refer to my camera as my third child. “Technically, she is my first!” I say. But they don’t find that funny. I have a burgeoning archive of photographs that document my daughters’ early childhood years- the years I spent being a stay-at-home mother. Lately, it has been rather difficult for me to look at these old photos. Although the pictures are mostly of the children, they are also an account of my life. A testament not only to my presence in every ounce of their childhood but also a reminder of the invisibility of my being during that time.
I was born in New Delhi, India, to middle-class working parents. Although creative from a young age, I chose instead to pursue a career that was more acceptable and expected in the environment in which I was raised. By qualification, I am a postgraduate in commerce and have worked in finance and manufacturing in Delhi and later in Dubai, where I gave birth to both my daughters.
Fig. 2, Shweta Bist, The Girls and My Shadow, New York, NY, 2014
My husband and I moved to New York City in early 2013, when the girls were ages 3 years and 8 weeks, respectively. I had quit my last office job with the birth of our first daughter. There are several reasons why I chose to stay at home, such as wanting to preserve and nurture my daughters in their infancy and early childhood years, inadequate maternity leave, expensive child care and lack of familial support.
In later years, I wondered if I stayed home because of a lack of choice to do otherwise. Raising children in a capitalist country, where mothering is not considered to have any economic or political consequence, has its downside.
Fig.3, Shweta Bist, Melded, New York, NY, 2018
After being a household resource for the better part of a decade, the illusion that I was doing noble work or that I was doing work that could be valued in quantitative terms within the context of a productive adult life dissipated. Isolated in my domestic life, and financially dependent on my husband, I could no longer fight the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy that I felt at the loss of my sense of self. I also became increasingly frustrated at my inability to feel like a ‘good mother’ despite my best efforts to be one. This title, ever so evasive in the blur of mounting self-doubt and self-criticism.
In the words of Sara Ruddick, “On the best days, a mother can only do her best, and her best often, in the long run, does not seem quite “good enough.”’(30) As a young mother, I didn’t know that the ambivalence I felt did not make me a bad mother. Further, that I couldn’t possibly control all the events in my children’s lives and be wholly and solely responsible for their successes and failures.
Fig. 4, Shweta Bist, The Girls at My Window, New York, NY, 2018
Over the years and over several cups of coffee with others who consider childcare to be a central aspect of their lives, I have learned that there is a vast gap between how motherhood is thought to be, and what it really is. Susan Maushart attributes this discrepancy to The Mask of Motherhood, which she explains is an “assemblage of fronts- mostly brave, serene, and all knowing- that we use to disguise the chaos and complexity of our lived experience” (2). She further states that to be masked is to “deny and repress what we experience, to misrepresent it, even to ourselves” (1-2). It only follows that to free mothers from aiming for impossible standards and from the consequent sense of failure from their non-achievement of these, the experience of mothering must be represented for what it (really) is. And that has been central to my practice.
Fig. 5, Shweta Bist, Fixtures in My Horizon, New York, NY, 2020
Motherhood pushed me into needing a creative life. Art became my savior, a means for healing and storytelling. And it became imperative for me to tell stories on behalf of the mother— to share my truths, so I may present an authentic picture of what it really feels like to care for another life. Consequently, in my work, I am deeply interested in making the emotional labor of mothering visible.
There is a lot I have learned from being with my children, and by observing them in the way they carry themselves in the world. But I would be telling a half-truth if I were to omit the moments I have felt despair in my role as a mother. Although the love we feel for our children pulls on our heartstrings like no other relationship, it can be inconvenient, physically challenging, and emotionally draining to raise them.
Fig. 6, Shweta Bist, Pivot, 2021
I have felt painfully invisible and utterly lonely when I was a young immigrant mother. And although my children have given me more love than I can handle at times, caring for them without support has been one of the most difficult things I have had to do in my adult life.
Fig.7, Shweta Bist, A Covid Family Portrait, 2021
The invisibility of motherwork and its importance came into sharp focus with the onset of the Covid-19 Pandemic in the spring of 2020. The demands that the pandemic placed on care work were immense and intense. Single mothers, mothers of preschool-aged children, and those that were still working from home while navigating home school or caring for younger children, were among those hit especially hard. As for me, during the first lockdown in NYC, I was cooking all the time, doing mountain loads of dishes, and cleaning constantly because everyone was always home. At the same time, being available to the children as an educator, entertainer, and counselor as they dealt with a mix of confusion, fear, and anxiety about the whole situation and tip-toeing around the home as I did so, lest I make noise to the ire of my husband who was on non-stop and loud work calls all day. I had no paid work, and it felt like I had been thrown back into the days of my oblivion. It felt apocalyptic, and I was in mama-bear mode.
Once the initial anxiety settled down it became apparent to me that if I didn’t take photographs I would perish, virus or not. I just needed to come up with a solution to do creative work while engaging the children. It was also important for me to turn this adversity into an opportunity- something I tell my daughters is the key to tide over rough times. This was the moment for me to walk the talk, as they say.
Fig. 8, Shweta Bist, Wish Upon a Dandelion, 2021
It was decided that we would work on a photo project together- inside the apartment. Once every few days we turned the living room into a photography studio. There were lengthy discussions about theme, costumes, props, and background. Sometimes, the idea was discussed over days before it was finally shot.
The outcome is Covidity– a series of photographs made in collaboration with my daughters during the pandemic. They were ages 7 and 10 when I started work on the project in the of summer of 2020. It is a visual diary of our conversations and curiosities at the time. It started as a means for us to process all that we were going through and became an expression of it. The series moves from the children being the subjects and eventually includes me in the imagery. Themes that may come across to viewers include isolation, healing through positive thinking, the bond between siblings, the interdependence of mother and child, maternal love and maternal ambivalence. Some of these were difficult topics, but what I noticed was that my children responded with a lot of empathy and love, and seemed to be able to understand the complexity of the emotions we all were feeling at the time.
We engaged in another project together in 2021. I shot the series for an exhibition called the ‘Mythical Mother’ that was held virtually by the Spilt Milk Gallery, Edinburgh. The series considers popular myths that have had implications for women and mothers, and how we might change the narrative that surrounds mothering if we are to interpret these myths differently. A lot of religious texts have been written by men and interpreted through a patriarchal lens. But if women were to write and tell stories, what would they be? How would they portray the roles that mothers, daughters, and sons are expected to play? These are some of the questions that I hoped the images would encourage viewers to contemplate.
Fig. 9, Shweta Bist, Motherhouse, 2021
As a mother of daughters, educating them about their maternal inheritance and empowering them in knowing that their femininity is their strength has been very important to me. I find it empowering to be able to tell my own truths, and want that to be something my daughters watch and learn from. I have also felt it necessary to guide them to use Art as a tool for expression, catharsis, activism and outreach.
Fig. 10, Shweta Bist, United We Stand: Mothers Day, 2021
I often marvel at how they have been a driving force in my creative practice- as patient muses and powerful collaborators. But it hasn’t been easy. It has taken a lot of patience on my part and an acceptance that sometimes things won’t go the way I expect them to. Because mothering is a central aspect of my life, I have had to be ready to pivot at any given point of time. My creative practice has had to mold depending on my maternal responsibilities. Despite the challenges, I continue to strive to share my journey of motherhood- to share my truths. It is an experience that is carved out of love and peppered with trials and tribulations. But no matter the hardship, mothering is essentially a practice rooted in love; and love has always been and will always be central to my work.
Works Cited
Maushart, Susan. The Mask of Motherhood: How Becoming a Mother Changes Everything and Why We Pretend It Doesn’t. Penguin Books, 2000.
Ruddick, Sara. Maternal Thinking: Toward a Politics of Peace. Beacon Press, 1989.
List of Photograph Titles
Fig. 1, Shweta Bist, Intro to a ‘Joe Bell’, Outer Banks, NC, 2013
Fig. 2, Shweta Bist, The Girls and My Shadow, New York, NY, 2014
Fig. 3, Shweta Bist, Melded, New York, NY, 2018
Fig. 4, Shweta Bist, The Girls at My Window, New York, NY, 2018
Fig. 5, Shweta Bist, Fixtures in My Horizon, New York, NY, 2020
Fig. 6, Shweta Bist, Pivot, 2021
From the Series, Covidity
Fig. 7, Shweta Bist, A Covid Family Portrait, 2021
From the Series, Covidity
Fig. 8, Shweta Bist, Wish Upon a Dandelion, 2021
From the Series, Covidity
Fig. 9, Shweta Bist, Motherhouse, 2021
From the Series, Mythical Mother
Fig. 10, Shweta Bist, United We Stand: Mothers Day, 2021
From the Series, Covidity
- JourMS - 