It’s a trope that’s no longer uncommon: a modern-day academic reaches back into the shadows of history to bring a forgotten woman artist into the light. The Miramonde series, by Amy Maroney, and Possession, by A.S. Byatt, come to mind. In this particular tale, Nancy, a graduate student who has reached a dead end with her PhD. research, comes across odd botanical art by an English artist at the turn of the century. These captivating, sensual drawings, a Strangler Fig vine and Kapok tree, strike her as botanical portraits. She sets off to find more work by the same artist.
In a story set in another time, Hannah Inglis comes to Kuala Kangsa, Malaya, at the end of the 19th century, a young bride accompanying her husband, Colonel George Inglis, who will be second in command there. They have a large house on Ridge Road, which the servants refer to as the Street of the Big Bosses. The British community carries on as if they are living in London. The wives continue with their corsets and teas in the middle of the jungle.
But Hannah, who has been studied art in Paris, is enchanted by this tropical land. There is something new to paint wherever she looks. She can’t go alone into the jungle, of course, but Sergeant Singh, a Sikh police officer whose avocation is recording undocumented botanical specimens, is happy to accompany her. He has always hoped to find the elusive Parasol Flower—as tall as a man, with a bloom like an umbrella—and this becomes Hannah’s goal, as well.
Soon, the gossip begins.
The Colonel approaches Hannah. “Several residents have noticed you painting out of doors…”
“She was painting a…a lady of ill repute,” reports a missionary’s wife.
“Myrtle had the impression that you were pursuring Sergeant Singh.”
“You are humiliating all of us with this mad behavior!” the Colonel insists.
“Mad behavior? I am an artist…Painting is like breathing to me.”
Author Karen Quevillon has the gift of being able to describe the artist’s process, which does indeed sound a natural as breathing:
She lets her hand draw curls over the page. Clouds change so effortlessly. She is a vessel for clouds…for change. Soon, there is only the task of balancing void and shape, creating forms that generate points of interest, and she goes on until a painting reveals itself…
“There is something wrong with you, Hannah, that this mess should matter so much to you,” the Colonel decides. He forbids his wife to paint, and determines to get her busy with babies right away. But Hannah is resourceful. She approaches the one woman she knows can help her, Eva Petersborough, an eccentric aristocrat and author of a scientific tome who is as impatient with the British community as Hannah is. She invites Hannah to set up a studio in her mansion and work there under the guise of daily visits.
All goes well until a scandal explodes, pitting the British against the local population of Malays, Eurasians, and Sikhs. As norms disintegrate and classes collapse, Hannah disappears amid the chaos, remaining hidden for a century before a curious woman comes looking for her.
Why have tales of women artists who were considered too unruly to be accepted by polite society become so familiar? Is it because they lived unconventional lives, performing independence for viewers who confuse art with the artist?
No one should make the mistake of believing that these obstacles are all behind us. While Hannah could only dream of the freedoms Nancy enjoys, she also faces disapproval. She doesn’t seem to fit into academia, and even her boyfriend has dropped her. If she doesn’t find a stellar career or a husband, will Nancy, too, disappear from history?
An artist who has left Paris far behind, ensorcelled by an exotic land, described by an author who deftly evokes setting, the artist’s eye, and complex relationships—while integrating dual-timeline stories—put The Parasol Flower in a category of its own.