created, maintained, and curated by womyn, for all.
April's theme is
MOTHERS & SISTERS.
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RAINCOAT is a community of musicians, writers, visual artists, filmmakers, and more. We champion the work of womyn and the nurturing of safe, dynamic spaces that encourage its creation and distribution.
I find a rough draft of a letter sitting atop my mother’s bedside table, scrawled into a beaten spiral bound notebook. The header reads “Dear Brittany”. It’s a letter written to me, but one I never received. It begins, “I am sitting here in the wee hours of the morning, unable to sleep as I am still in shock and utter disbelief to your recent decision to have your body tattooed and permanently disfigured.” The letter quickly digresses from simple motherly concern to something
Dear Mom, Thinking back on our family trips together, more than the stressful plane rides and grand sightseeing destinations, I most vividly remember the little things. I wanted to reminisce about a few of them with you. My current adventure, which has become yours and Dad's by extension, is exploring Japan. Temples are all well and good, but I think you like the clothing shops, katsudon, and Yoku Moku cookies the best. We will make sure your next visit is filled with all of
Whenever I post pictures of mothers with children in Russia I get comments that they look miserable and unhappy. However that's not the way I perceive it. Maybe more people would see tiredness, and general vulnerability and motherly attachment instead? #photography #motherssisters
My relationship with food photography began long before Instagram: with my family’s first digital camera, in the days when four megapixels represented the height of technology. I was fascinated by the ability to permanently freeze the world around me, and fell under the impression that everything deserved to be thus captured. Yep, the oldest picture of food in my computer’s library is blurry, homecooked penne. My pajama pants on the bottom are a fun bonus. I became more selec
忘れ物はございませんか？ Have you forgotten anything? The refrain in schools, buses, trains, bathroom stalls, any place you leave in Japan. And at the elementary schools where I teach, there are lost-and-found corners for otoshimono, lit. "dropped things." Everything ends up there, from cartoon-branded hand towels to tiny coats, from hair scrunchies to gloves; the adorable debris of everyday life in Japan. 忘れ物はございませんか？ Have you forgotten any piece of yourself? Hearing the reminder repeat
"over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day” I travel through the lives of my students in Hokkaido, a queen of the wild things. Their world is still mysterious to me, but their creative energy becomes rays of sun, dispelling the fog and bringing fresh light. We study, play, sing, even hike through town together, learning every step of the way. One day I will return to my very own room at home, where my still-hot supper is waiting for me – but for now, the wild rump