How pleasing to find out that most cave art was made by women

Why do so many women feel such a strong urge to paint? It has been troubling me for years now. There are hundreds of thousands of us up and down the country, not pros but dedicated nonetheless.

We pay for classes, huddle around artists we admire; we head to the coast on holiday to try, and fail, to capture the wash of sky and sea. On weekday evenings we congregate in art schools and stare in a demented fashion at naked men and women, determined to master the human form. All around the world, there are women with watercolours locked in battle with household objects: flowers, lemons, bowls. People talk of us as hobbyists or housewives filling the hours between lunch and gin. It feels more as if we’re following some inarticulable pull, like bees lured on by the earth’s magnetic field.

Why do women paint? Last week, I think I found a sort of answer.