A girl on the cusp of adolescence gazes down at a book. Her left hand rests against her flushed pink cheeks, while her right clutches the pages, ready to turn to find out what happens next. She has porcelain-like skin and golden hair seemingly full of air, executed in textures that contrast with the scratchy, loose marks that make up her shirt and the book’s pages. When I look at this drawing, I am struck by how the artist, the American-born impressionist Mary Cassatt, has perfectly captured the all-consuming sensation of being submerged in a book – the feeling that the whole world is dissolving around you. For a moment, only that story matters.
Cassatt, who worked in Paris for most of her adult life when women were finally beginning to be accepted as artists (and deserving of state-funded art education), was hailed for her intimate portrayals of women and children. They are glimpses into their minds, their private worlds, yet they also emphasise intellect and ambition. Young Girl Reading is one such example. I often wonder if she is reading something like Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, published nearly three decades before, which tells the story of the four March sisters, who are figuring out their journey to womanhood themselves.
