Family Tree

In some indigenous cultures, you are only considered to have reached adulthood aged 52. I want to explore the fact that at this age you become an elder: no longer focused on having and rearing your young, women can explore what their life means to them. After this age people reach a depth of understanding that is often unrecognised. It is reflected in the roots of this ‘family tree’, which stretch far below the earth. The branches, meanwhile, are reminiscent of the blood veins that run from mother to child. The portraits of the children are at the base of the oak, but there is a whole life that stretches up above them in the form of the tree; just as there is a life to be lived after children. While the representation of the children – the portraits in the pram – are artificial and self-conscious (the pram is

smart if old-fashioned, and the paintings are twice removed representations of the children), the tree itself is natural, abundant, and full of life. The period of early motherhood is filled with anxieties about not doing a good enough job, whereas the later life – the tree – is perhaps when adults become free to explore what maturity really means to them.

Feast in your life

The family table is at the heart of so many connections: those between children and parents, extended families, friends, acquaintances, visitors. Here it is transformed into a space to discuss the conventionally taboo topic of menopause. The formal place settings and relics of a middle class life, symbolising the pressure to ‘keep up appearances’, is balanced by symbols of organic growth and wisdom: the tree of life anchors the table, the acorns are sprouting not dying. The tree itself is gold and intricate, far more beautiful than the elaborate dining pieces. Two broken chairs, created for earlier work, ultimately an emblem of strength: they are still standing and still supporting others, even though irrevocably altered themselves. The napkins, usually used to catch and clear up mess also hear conversation starters for the ‘messy’ or difficult topic of menopause. They are stitched as children’s clothes maybe when torn, but this domestic task is reclaimed for the menopausal woman’s innermost thoughts. The white napkins easily show up the marks left by the guests, the remnants of the conversations, as they are encouraged to ‘sit and feast on your life’.

Stand Alone

The broken chairs symbolise the irrevocably damaged female form that is attempting to still stand as usual, but situating them in natural contexts such as the garden also removes their familial purpose: freed from their domestic constraints, the chairs are simply the forms they are.

 Lets talk Yoni…

Explores the patriarchal lens through which we so often view menopause and the fact that we have an insufficient vocabulary for talking about it. The vaginal structure overshadows the conversation between the two chairs, but it is secondary to the blue balloons - which are reminiscent of a young boy’s birthday party or a wedding, both symbols of motherly duty. It is also only truly visible when viewed head on: the structure which should be confronting and all- encompassing, is flimsy, vulnerable and exposes the chairs beneath. The chairs themselves are stripped back and barren not even turned completely towards one another symbolising the lack of an open and honest conversation. The depressing Birthday cards sewn and drawn into the cushions, depicting the all-too-common Western view of Menopause.

 Pram in the Hall