Susie MacMurray: Hinterland Catalogue to accompany the exhibition "Susie MacMurray: Hinterland" at Danese/Corey, New York from April 22 - May 21, 2016.
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Susie MacMurray: Hinterland Catalogue to accompany the exhibition "Susie MacMurray: Hinterland" at Danese/Corey, New York from April 22 - May 21, 2016.
Susie MacMurray: Hinterland Catalogue to accompany the exhibition "Susie MacMurray: Hinterland" at Danese/Corey, New York from April 22 - May 21, 2016.
(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQX9dpQyuT4)
lego shoe stop frame. The work is about being a mother and an artist. There is myth that a woman can't be both. This work uses materials hat a mother would have access too, to create artwork. the size of the heel of the shoe is the emphasise the pressure a mother feels between being an artist and a mother. This work is a feminist piece, standing up for women. If a man can be both, then so should a women, without being frowned upon by society.
A pram in a hallway The pram in the hall … still the enemy of good art? Photograph: Agencja Fotograficzna Caro/Alamy Elena Marchevska artist, researcher and senior lecturer in drama and performance
Monday 13 July 2015 12.30 BST Last modified on Monday 13 July 2015 12.33 You cannot prepare for motherhood – you have to learn as you go along. You receive advice, hear endless stories about nappies, chickenpox, antibiotics and nursery waiting lists, but nobody tells you how profoundly your life will change and how previously accessible pleasurable activities will become a torturous task. Certainly, nobody tells you about how motherhood will acutely change your career path.
Before becoming a mother I had a fairly successful career in the creative industries. I was used to long rehearsal hours, occasional touring, attending late night shows and managing the flexible working hours that are often a requirement for creative practitioners. Many will recognise this lifestyle as the norm. Indeed, it’s difficult to stay visible and present without following suit.
Yet, after my daughter was born and I came out of the three-month daze of changing nappies, breastfeeding on demand and adjusting my sleeping pattern, I realised that what was once a norm for me was now a formidable task.
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Click here Very quickly I realised that all the shows, openings and parties inconveniently started at the same time: the dreaded “bath and bed” hour, when you and your child are in tatters.
I got tired of making excuses and started to ignore invitation emails and phone calls. The creative world felt like a lonely place. In spite of the richness of motherhood, I felt like a poor artist. As literary critic and writer Cyril Connolly snobbishly asserted back in the 1930s: “There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.”
I am still a practising artist but have also built a career as an academic, in which I have been contemplating and researching the concourse where motherhood meets creativity. In June, I brought together a group of 60 artists and scholars for a two-day celebration of motherhood and creative practice at London South Bank University, where I now teach.
We were joined by scholars from the US, Canada, Europe and New Zealand, and we talked, shared good practice, created art and voiced our individual and collective needs. We realised that we are not lonely and that being a mother in the creative sector is definitely not an impediment to good work.
We enjoyed much lively debate and fiery discussion, but two concerns kept rising to the surface. First, it would seem that creative practitioners who are also mothers would really value wholesale improvements in their ability to access childcare. The issues of overpriced childcare in the UK are familiar to every working parent and the government recently announced a welcome extension to childcare support from 2017.
But this means little to parents working in the creative industries. We work long, unfriendly hours and many creative art institutions do not operate on the 9-5 model. We rarely hear about alternative models of childcare, which offer improved flexibility, but it is enough to look to the Nordic model, where mothers who need it are entitled to night and weekend childcare, to know that potential solutions do exist and should be fought for.
Second, cultural institutions can do more to make themselves accessible to artists and cultural researchers with young children – a vital audience group that not only sustains the cultural sector professionally, but is also nurturing the next generation of artists, patrons and funders. When it comes to institutional accessibility, many cultural organisations have made great strides in carefully and successfully running programmes for families.
However, support is limited for parents who wish to visit galleries or attend events as part of their professional practice. Imagine visiting the gallery as an artist, trying to inspire your own work, with a young child in tow. You are naturally welcome to take your child into the galleries with you, but it’s impossible to stay and enjoy quiet contemplation, while your child roams the gallery, requesting food and to use the toilet within five minutes of entering the space.
Research in this field by Martina Mullaney, founder of the Enemies of Good Art project, found that major art institutions in London don’t offer basic crèche facilities, where artists can leave their children while researching and analysing exhibitions and shows.
Why not? Such a service would have allowed me to reap the benefits of researching other artists’ work – looking, discussing and enjoying undistracted learning, knowing that my children were in safe hands within the cultural institution, rather than excluded from it.
After our conference, I reflect on this newly discovered community of artist-mothers who are calling for change. Motherhood is of enormous importance to the growth of women’s political consciousness. Surely we can’t leave behind these women’s everyday experiences when we discuss career paths and opportunities across the cultural sector.
Sometimes it seems impossible to conceive an articulated answer, but we must continue the debate and stay vocal in our requests. Motherhood is not a problem we need to solve; it is a reality that we need to acknowledge.
Dr Elena Marchevska is an interdisciplinary artist, researcher and senior lecturer in drama and performance at London South Bank University’s School of Arts and Creative Industries
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Photographer and author Qiana Mestrich asked 12 artist moms to find the answer.
Lisa Solomon
On being a working artist mother
I could start by telling you how having a child is life altering an experience that is so personal that I scoff at the notion that I might be able to describe it in some universal way. I could repeat the clichés about the power and beauty and wonder of parenthood. I could be a hard ass and simply say that it’s harder than childless people could possibly imagine. Trying to juggle motherhood, teaching, an art practice and the stuff that we call LIFE is a daily challenge for which some days I feel more prepared than others.
These are all undeniably true statements - but feel hollow and don’t even begin to describe the complexity of what it is that makes up my existence. I’ve realized, particularly as I’ve encountered younger [especially women, but really any] artists that they often turn to me wide eyed and ask – how is your life possible? How do you maintain a studio life and a life life? How do you balance? How do you do everything that you do? And often I just stare back and say: I don’t balance. It’s incredibly hard. My husband might have a sharp word or two about all the things I manage to neglect in our household [a good wifey I do not make]. I just move forward. I make lists, I put out fires as they ignite, and I’m committed. This actually might be the biggest thing. I need my practice. I must make art. I’m simultaneously dedicated to my daughter/family/friends, and teaching. There isn’t balance, there are choices, desires, longings and decisions that get made – sometime on impulse, sometimes with hours of agonizing planning and forethought.
I have no use for catch phrases – you CAN or CAN’T have it all – because they are just that, a catch. No life philosophy/approach can be summed up in 5 words. And honestly I don’t even want to attempt to have it all. I don’t know what “all” is. Your “all” is surely very different from my “all”. I want what I want in my life. A full life. One where sacrifices are necessary and made as needed, but also not chosen as the path of least resistance.
When Sarah asked me to write for the [Pro]create Anthology I thought hallelujah. Here is a space to write about the topic being a working artist and mother. A place to collect and read and discover varying viewpoints and perspectives about mothering/parenting/art making. Perhaps something here will fit your bill and somehow you can cobble together bits and pieces that resonate with you. This excites me as a maker/educator because this is how it works in the studio/classroom. There are moments when you recognize yourself in what is presented and then your brain lights up. In an inquisitive, excited state something is born.
I was never sure I was going to have a child. I was not someone who was born with an urgent need or desire to have a baby of my own. Sometimes I felt completely comforted by Agnes Martin who proclaimed that artists shouldn’t have children. She was a bit extreme as she also thought we should eschew pets, but still… I got what she was saying.
But then one day my husband suggested it. And then about a year later we had a baby. [It all happened a bit too quickly for my liking, but if there is one thing you learn as a parent it’s how to surrender and understand that so much is out of your control]. I did not revel in being pregnant – I felt like a science experiment. I was very worried that I was going to loose my identity. I didn’t know how I was going to find time to make my work. I also silently feared that I might want to give up my work, or that I wouldn’t be able to do all the things I wanted to at the level that I wanted. Luckily I had a few amazing examples of artist mothers who just by living their life were showing me that it was indeed possible to make art and be a mom. Luckily, too, I was at a place in my career and practice where I felt like I wasn’t going to loose momentum completely.
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