ECLIPSE
The joy and chaotic stillness of motherhood.
Words by Gem Fletcher
In A Lifes Work, Rachel Cusk describes childbirth and the journey into early motherhood as the catalyst for an emotional shift that we will grapple with for the rest of our lives. "Birth is not merely that which divides women from men: it also divides women from themselves, so that a woman's understanding of what it is to exist is profoundly changed."
This confrontation with the unknowns of matresence is what Rose Marie Cromwell explores in her new book Eclipse. Published by TIS Books, the photographs are marked by a chaotic stillness that describes a practice of devotion. Everyday moments acquire a numinous power as our capacity for joy and wonder becomes even more generative.
Through intimate and revealing moments, the Miami based artist honours the complex experiences surrounding this transition creating a form of visual solidarity, radically reimagining how we can be in community together.
There is something about the energetic force of birth that leaves very little room to ease into the transition of motherhood. Your book Eclipse charts this new beginning of your daughter’s birth that was followed quickly by the pandemic and a global lockdown. What was the most prominent shift for you in those early days?
My sense of time has been altered forever. Labor felt like an eternity but also a timeless space where I had to be so acutely aware of the present. I remember walking around the neighbourhood of my birth centre while having contractions, observing my surroundings in greater detail than ever before. The postpartum period was intense due to lack of sleep. Nights turn into days and days into nights.
My daughter was two months old when the pandemic started, and we became further isolated. This past year felt like a time vortex where everything inverted. My world became 100% introspective - whereas before, I was on a plane every week. The book title, Eclipse, was inspired by this.
For me, one of the most remarkable aspects of this transition that Eclipse captures so perfectly is how everyday moments acquire a numinous power as our capacity for joy and wonder becomes even more generative. How has motherhood and your relationship with Simone shifted your ability to see the world anew?
My previous book, El Libro Supremo de la Suerte, looked at the power of everyday rituals and seemingly mundane objects to guide meaning in our lives. This interest just continued into my early motherhood photographs. These care rituals are what fills our days as parents, and they can sometimes feel overwhelming and never-ending—the pumping. The endless washing of clothes. The soothing. The holding. The diaper changing. The doctor appointments. They all become small acts of love and devotion. They can cement your spiritual relationship with your child. Like so many families, we were alone in the pandemic with no help and remembering these were acts of devotion helped me through.
Motherhood has also created a whole new level of empathic feeling. It seems to have opened up a new place of emotion and connection that I didn't have access to before. It's been an immensely expansive experience, even though at first it felt very isolating.
There is a moving photograph of you breastfeeding Simone outside while another mother cares for you and cuts your hair. This theme of sisterhood runs through the book - What did these bonds between mothers represent for you?
I met the photographer Gesi Schilling during the pandemic, who also had a newborn. As we both were taking similar precautions, she was one of the few people I would see. It was cathartic to see someone else spending her whole day nursing and her whole night waking. She was also a great collaborator in the project. I also made some images with fellow photographer and mother Irina Rozovsky who is pictured in the image you mention. Creating images with other mothers felt cathartic. Combining the two kinds of work (photography and mothering) that mean so much to me was therapeutic.
How did photography function for you during this time?
Motherhood is the most challenging and most rewarding thing that I have done. I think my profession has prepared me well. Women photographers have to have great stamina - the long hours, travel, endurance, and ability to connect with others are qualities that prepare us for motherhood.
In making Eclipse, I was testing how my creative life and motherhood life could coexist. I found that they are more compatible than I had imagined.
As a devoted artist, how do you navigate this division of labour between the work you love and your child?
I felt insecure while pregnant that people may underestimate what I was capable of. I did not taper my work back at all. I was travelling and working through almost all of the pregnancy. After birth, I did go back to working occasionally, but it didn't involve travel as we were also in the pandemic. I know all of our lives have changed due to the pandemic. Right now, I am resuming travel for work, but not at the same rate as before. I want to be more decisive and deliberate with the projects I take on. I don't feel that motherhood has limited me - it has been such an expansive experience.
Attachment and detachment are important themes in the book. How did you deal with the physical demands on your body?
In the beginning, there was this push and pull of my daughter and I being deeply co-dependent. Interestingly it was not just the baby needing the mother- my body was also reliant on my baby for nursing and skin to skin time to help regulate my hormonal levels. As she gets older, we are establishing independence from one another. It is a continuous separation but also the growth of a deep bond.
I’m curious as well if pregnancy and birth have opened your eyes to a whole world of birthing bodies who are marginalised and silenced despite their mighty strength?
My birth was eye-opening to the reasons why so many Black women could suffer high mortality rates. My midwife pulled a life-saving move in my case, and if she hadn't been so attentive and experienced, who knows what the outcome could have been.
The reality of racial bias and discrimination are very dangerous. I had my prenatal care and gave birth at the Magnolia Birth House in Miami, one of the US's only nine Black-owned birthing centres. It was an inclusive place where all experiences were given validity. We urgently need more diversity in birthing care in the future.
I have also gained a huge respect for the midwives I met, many of whom have ancient and innate wisdom and work hard to keep us mothers safe and provide safe care for all birthing bodies. But, unfortunately, I don’t feel like they get the credit they deserve.
In many ways, Eclipse is about making visible the unknown unknowns of early motherhood. I think our generation is no longer interested in perpetuating the silence or invisibility around the reality of mothering. How do you feel about the social and political realities?
As photographers, we have the tools to make so-called "private" things public. This year I've been so happy to see more photographers making images about their path to motherhood than ever before.
For me, It's not about doing it all, but it is about having options and not feeling you need to limit yourself. I want motherhood not to be seen as a detractor from work but as something that prepares us to do our jobs even better.
We need to reclaim a public conversation about birthing and mothering. It will enable us to validate the experience and stop the ostracisation and politicisation of the female body. In the United States, I feel like we have come so far away from our bodies and what they call for, falling victim to the medical-industrial complex's profit-driven priorities. I want all women to have access to safe, personalised care while birthing.
