Friday, April 22, 2016

Cultural ReProducers Reading Group

Yes! Cultural ReProducers is organizing a monthly Reading Group to discuss writings on parenthood in the arts, artist-child collaboration, expanded concepts of motherhood, art and everyday life. If you’re looking to flex your cultural-critical mind from home and think through ideas like these with us, consider yourself invited.

The goal here is that no matter where you live or what your family situation is you can participate through live chat, a dedicated Facebook group and (coming soon) visiting artists and live conversations through Skype or other online video programs. We’ll be figuring things out as we go along, so your feedback is always welcome.

We'll discuss our first selection of essays live via Facebook on Wednesday, May 25th, 2016 at 8pm Standard Central Time. If you’re in a time zone where that’s not ideal, the conversation will continue through our private Facebook group. Interested in joining the discussion? Join the CR Reading Group and we’ll get you a link to the readings.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Interview: Oubria Tronshaw

Oubria Tronshaw is a writer, a mother of four, a collector and circulator of human experience. She received a BA in creative Writing from the Santa Fe University of Art and Design and several years later earned her MFA at Chicago State University, a degree she began while raising three small children on her own and struggling to make ends meet.  An incredible tenacity and pragmatic optimism ground her writing practice, and in sharing experiences with other women she's discovered a new creative direction.  Her current project, Marrow Women, is an evolving archive of anonymous interviews that dig deep into poverty, sexuality, abuse, transformation, and everything between. 
 
CR: To start out, could you briefly describe your kids?

Oubria: 
Okay, well first there’s Nzinga. She is eight, and she is very sweet, and very helpful, and also grown as hell and I just always feel like I’m never good enough for her (laughter).  Othello is seven, and he keeps lying about brushing his teeth in the morning. He tells me he loves me all the time, gives the best hugs, and … I don’t have a favorite, but if I did... it would be him. Free is four. She runs my life. And If Nzinga’s like a teenager then Free is the naked grandma who doesn’t give a shit. (more laughter) She’s done everything she needs to do and she’s ready to just have fun now – she doesn’t give a damn what you think. Amun is eight months, and he lights up my life. Just lights it up. I mean, even when I’m mad at him, his smile is just…. oh! So juicy. I love him to pieces.

CR: You pursued an MFA in creative writing when your children were little. Graduate school can be a challenge even without kids. How did you make the decision to go, and how did you make it work?

Oubria:
Well, I already had Nzinga and Othello and I started looking at MFA programs when I was pregnant with Free. I never really wanted to be a teacher, but I've always known I wanted to be a writer. I had a Bachelor’s Degree and I had a job writing online, writing articles for eHow.com and stuff at $15, $20 an article. I’ve done almost 1,500 articles now, and that was paying the bills. It was nice to work from home, but it wasn’t joyful – it was such a grind, you know?  And then I got pregnant again and I was like “now I’m gonna need MORE money. This isn’t going to work.”

My mom took me out to dinner for my 30th birthday. I was pregnant, I was super nauseous, me and my husband weren’t getting along and I was thinking about leaving him, and my mom said to me – and she’d said this to me before, but somehow I didn’t really hear her ‘till then – she said, “an MFA is a terminal degree.” People always try to push you toward a PhD if you’re black and you’re smart - it’s a thing - and I didn’t really know if that was for me. But when I realized an MFA is a terminal degree in my field… and I realized I could get loans and I wouldn’t have to work so hard at this internet stuff and then maybe we could move and get a fresh start, I really threw myself into the application process.

So how did I make it work? I got a graduate assistantship. I’d left my husband before I started the program -- we needed some time apart. I lived with my stepmom who had a home daycare. So that was, you know, I don’t know how I would’a done it otherwise because I certainly didn’t have enough money to sustain us at all. At ALL! My assistantship paid me $630 a month. So between that and writing as many articles as I could, that’s how we did it.

 
CR: But I mean, how did you make it work as far as your own writing? Paying the bills is a serious part of things, but doing creative work is so…
 

Oubria: Yeah. I wrote a hundred and sixty pages of a novel for my thesis, and lots of ten and fifteen-page papers. But don’t forget, for work I had written about 1,500 articles, so I was used to writing with people crawling on my head. And even more so with the motivation of “I gotta get this grade,” but I was already writing for “well I gotta feed you tomorrow, so I gotta write through you being on my head.” Once you can do that…

CR: So many of us struggle to prioritize a creative practice, but in your case writing was actually putting food on the table! Time management aside, has parenthood affected your approach to the kind of creative work that you do?
 

Oubria: Completely. I’ve always had a gift for writing, but before I had my kids and my husband I really didn’t have much to write about. I’d write about, like, failed relationships or that angsty “I don’t know what the fuck to do with my life” feeling. But to be honest, there’s enough of that in the world, you know? If you’re an artist you want to contribute something real, and I just couldn’t find – I just couldn’t tap a vein that was deep enough to think, “this is what I was meant to share with the world.” I think that if I hadn’t had children I would have been perfectly fine with this vague, distant disgust with my life. Forever! I would have traveled with it, and had affairs with it, and had lunch and taken selfies and looked awesome with it, but I just would’ve been this miserable, lonely, super smart and sensitive and creative… unmoored person with no real purpose.

 We have so many privileges that other women in history didn’t have, but they just made it work. We’re not the first women artists to be mothers.

For me, the way I had children and the way I got with my husband and the way I had to parent -- through eviction and poverty and swallowing my pride and living with my Mom and living with my Stepmom, and breaking up and gettin’ back together and then his ex-wife and all these things about motherhood that no one explains to you! Like how you don’t always want to… more and more you just don’t want to. How tired you are. How sometimes you just don’t recognize yourself or your life. How you don’t have any time for yourself…. Your kids will never give you permission to have a moment or be sane. Ever. You have to learn to be an advocate for yourself. All those things inform my art.

I was having these conversations with other women, like my friend Sagashus who’s doing “Infamous Mothers.” She’s a single mom with six children, she’s in a PhD program, and we talk about how motherhood is changing our lives and ourselves. And we talk about how there is really nowhere you can go when you’re having a breakdown and you want to read that someone else is dealing with this. So my art became to just be as transparent as I can for anyone else who might be feeling the same way. I stopped trying to make up stories, because all I could do was just be like “no, this is some real shit… realer than what’s in that book!” 


CR: How did your project Marrow Women evolve out of that, and how does it work as an extension of your writing, your creative practice?  
 

Oubria: Yeah, I think about that. Am I selling out because I’m not ‘writing’? But it’s more important to me right now to create a resource for women who want the real. We always give people a polished version of life and that’s not what we need. We’re starving for reality.

When I was in undergrad for creative writing we had to write an apology for why you do what you do. Mine was that I just always want people to know that they’re not alone. And that I really would like to create an encyclopedia of human experience. This was in undergrad – I had no idea how I was gonna do this, but I wanted a giant encyclopedia from A – Z, like Abortion, Abandonment, Adoption, Betrayal, Betrothal….whatever. Whatever you were going through, like you… murdered someone? Here’s a story of somebody who murdered someone, and they’re okay! Like, oh God, there’s a space for me! (laughter)

When I was a graduate student I was talking to other women I met there. We would just talk all the time about our husbands and everything we were dealing with. There’s all this emotional labor, physical labor that comes with marriage that no one tells you about. And then another woman I was talking to was telling me a story, and… I can’t tell you the story because I’d have to mention where she worked. These women would tell me their stories and they were super personal, and I’d be like "damn, her story would help you but I can’t tell you because…" fuck it. I’m just gonna type down people’s stories, and then whoever needs it can read it. I don’t have to be a gossip, I can just put it there and if they need it, get it. I see Marrow Women becoming a series of books in volumes. I look forward to seeing how many volumes there can be.

CR: Who would you say are your models for artist-parenting?
 

Oubria: Tony Morrison. Buchi Emechata. She had a lot of kids, and her husband destroyed her first manuscript. Can you imagine? Lucille Clifton. They all talk about just writing when your kids are in the room. Lucille Clifton’s daughters talk about how the dining room table would just be papers everywhere, and the typewriter… I think it’s so important. You know, first of all, your kids are never gonna leave the room long enough. Second of all it is important for them to see that you’re an artist and not just a mom. And they may feel now that "aw, I should be the most important thing to you," but there’s gonna come a time in their lives when they have to [make themselves] the most important thing. And if they can see “oh, that’s what she was doing,” then they have a model for that. If you devote everything to them and you hide your art in secret… They’ve got to see that you’re a full person outside of them.

We have so many privileges that other women in history didn’t have, but they just made it work. We’re not the first women artists to be mothers, or even the first mothers whose art couldn’t be public but who had these artistic impulses. I think sometimes we say “I’m an artist and I’m a mother and that’s so important.” And it is important… but when you make it such a big deal I think you don’t make the art you might want to because it’s like “no, you have to take the children because we need to make art.” If you need to be an artist then you’ll find ways to do it.

CR: What was your process like for returning to your creative work with a newborn? Do you have any advice you can share with artists who are struggling with that?
 

Oubria: Do it right away. Because they sleep the most when they’re new. I know it’s hard for new moms because… you’re new. But if only you knew that this was the most time you were gonna get, then you would take advantage of it. As they get older you get your bearings, but what you realize is that damn, they slept 20 hours a day that first month! What did I do? Did I just try to invite people over? No! If you want to write, then write! When I look back at my journals when I started to write heavily, I have entries from when my babies are days old. You know, I’m sitting here with this newborn and then all this angst comes out, but it’s good writing. Don’t wait. Just do it.  Do it at the hospital if you have to, you know? Take your journal.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Making It: Aviatrix Atelier, Berlin


Making It
profiles cultural producers creating the systems of support they need in the art community. The events, spaces, and other projects here s
upport the work of professional artists while also being accessible to families.

kids take over the child-height mezzanine gallery overlooking Aviatrix's café
Just down the street from Berlin’s  Tempelhofer Park - an expansive public part that was once the city's main airport - it might be easy to pass by the modest Aviatrix Atelier without knowing what's brewing inside. Its name invoking the adventurous spirit of female pilots, Aviatrix is a vibrant little social club, an evolving all-ages studio, gallery, and café organized by and for creative parents and their families, as well as the local community.

When designer and artist Renata
flexible workspace during the week = gallery + event space on the weekend
Faccenda first became a mother, she realized that bringing her baby into a typical shared studio cooperative just wasn’t going to work. Instead, she joined forces with other mother-artists in the city to make something new. After some early attempts at configuring child-friendly collaborative spaces with others she met Sarah Salters, a clothing designer and teacher who shared her vision for an all-ages studio with space for work, play, and public events. The duo secured a multi-room storefront space in the Neuköln neighborhood, and Aviatrix Atelier was born.

Aviatrix operates in so many ways it’s a little hard to keep track sometimes. On weekdays, its core group of parents share a dedicated studio in the back, while up front a high-ceilinged room equipped with wide tables, lamps, and wifi is rented out as co-working space. On weekends, its custom-built furniture (designed by Renata herself) folds up and away to serve as a pop-up gallery for all-ages exhibitions, film screenings, performances, and dance parties with great musicians and DJs. You enter all this through an adjacent café that doubles as a sort of social club for the creative community, featuring simple but
tasty food and drink and a small boutique selling the creative work of Aviatrix collaborators.

children emerge from the mezzanine gallery over the café during an exhibition
I felt lucky to experience the magic of this place during a solo show of my work there this fall. It felt even luckier to get to share it with my four-year-old daughter. To be sure, Aviatrix is a pretty cool place for adults to hang out, but Renata and Sarah are also deeply invested in the creativity of children: all exhibiting artists are asked to lead low-cost workshops for kids, part of the atelier's multifaceted children's studio programming. A kid-height mezzanine gallery built over the coffeeshop is the perfect space for young creatives to showcase their art for the public, curate their own exhibitions, or (between exhibitions) just contribute to the washable graffiti covering the mini-gallery’s ceiling and windows, while keeping an eye on their parents in the café below.

Berlin is a pretty special city in its approach to integrating family life into the larger culture: childcare is affordable for all, playgrounds double as sculpture parks, and there's an amazing array of “Eltern-Kind-Cafés,” relaxed coffeeshops and restaurants that include built-in sandboxes, toys, or indoor slides, and even playgrounds with adjacent beer gardens (a concept we can only fantasize about in the US).  Still, what Aviatrix offers is unique. Billed as "Berlin's only kid-friendly atelier,"  it’s not just for families, but truly supports artists of all ages. For more photos, videos, and news about events past and present, check out Aviatrix's Facebook feed and explore their website for more information.

Balloons - Tartaruga Feliz Solo Show from Tartaruga Feliz on Vimeo.

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Christa Donner reimagines the human / animal body through a range of media including large-scale drawing, printmaking, digital animation, and small-press publication. Her process often incorporates public projects and collaborations around narratives of bodily experience. Her work is exhibited internationally, including projects for the Museum Bellerive (Zurich, Switzerland); the Horst-Janssen Museum (Oldenberg, Germany); Kravets-Wehby Gallery (New York, USA); BankART NYK (Yokohama, Japan); Chiaki Kamikawa Contemporary Art (Paphos, Cyprus); the ANTI Festival of Contemporary Art (Kuopio, Finland); and the Centro Columbo Americano (Medellin, Colombia).

Saturday, February 20, 2016

Cultural ReProducers in NYC and Chicago - join us this week!

We have been quietly busy working on some exciting projects in Chicago and New York, and here’s news on a few that are coming up soon. We'd love to see you there.

Who's Holding the Baby? the Hackney Flashers, 1978
WAH-WAH, SHH, CHOMP, MUNCH, NOM, BURP, POOT, SLURP, YUM, TOOT, MWAH. BUT WHO’S HOLDING THE BABY?
EFA Project Space
323 w 39th Street #3, New York, NY
Saturday, Jan 27, 3 - 5:30 PM


If you’re in or near New York you’re invited to participate in an open forum with Christa Donner from Cultural ReProducers, Maiko Tanaka from The Grand Domestic Revolution, Marisa Jahn from The CareForce, and artist Jacqueline Hoang Nguyen for Wah-wah, shh, chomp, munch, nom, burp, poot, slurp, yum, toot, mwah. But who's holding the baby?

This open forum explores the intersection of cultural work, arts institutions, and caring labor. …But Who’s Holding the Baby? is presented in conjunction with the exhibition "The Let Down Reflex", curated by Amber Berson and Juliana Driever, at EFA Project Space in Manhattan. Come join the conversation on February 27th between 3:00-5:30pm.
Free childcare will be available.


ART + FEMINISM WIKIPEDIA EDIT-A-THON


School of the Art Institute of Chicago

37 S. Wabash, 1st Floor Neiman Center
, Chicago, IL

Saturday, March 5, 
drop in between 12 pm - 5 pm

Why are some of the most important mamas in art and design missing from Wikipedia? Well, because you haven’t added them yet. Cultural ReProducers is pleased to team up with Art+Feminism and Tracers to participate in the Chicago 2016 Wikipedia Edit-a-thon, and we need your help to expand its content and scope.

Everyone's welcome, and you need not have any previous Wikipedia editing know-how to take part: facilitators will offer 10-minute training sessions every hour on the hour and offer individual support as needed. Library staff will offer resources. Free childcare is in the works... get in touch if you can use it!

So: mark your calendars, pack up the kids, and please bring a laptop and a photo ID (for building access). To make the most of your time at the event, we recommend you create an account before you arrive. For more information, check out the Chicago meetup page.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Interview: Ana Álvarez-Errecalde

Simbiosis / Symbiosis (Serie Las Cuatro Estaciones, 2013-2014)
Ana Álvarez-Errecalde is an Argentinian artist based in Barcelona.  In her work she delves into personal experiences such as vital cycles, immigration and motherhood. She has exhibited throughout Europe and South America, including solo projects for the City of Women Festival (Liubliana, Slovenia), Centro Cultural de Espana (Buenos Aires, Argentina), and the Centro Cultural Drassanes (Barcelona, Spain). Her work is part of the 2015 exhibition Critica De la Razon Migrante, which has traveled to venues in Paraguay, Honduras, and Guatemala. Ana is passionate about issues of childbirth, which she has addressed in the projects The Birth of My Daughter (2005) and Cesarean: Beyond the Wound (2009). Cultural ReProducers is honored to share this conversation with Ana Álvarez-Errecalde brought to us by artist and mother Irene Pérez.

Cultural ReProducers: Briefly describe your children in your own words.

Ana: My eldest son is pure contemplation, beauty, and a mixture of fragility and strength. He inspires us by pushing our limits, making us face humility and embrace the lack of control, while letting us appreciate sublime mysteries. My daughter and my younger son are joy, curiosity, creativity, wit, endless possibilities, strength, assertiveness, freedom, collaboration, beauty and genuine empathy.

Anunciación / Anunciation (Serie Las Cuatro Estaciones, 2013-2014)
CR:  What was it like for you to become an artist-mother? What kinds of support or lack of support did you encounter?

Ana: I became an artist when I became a mother. My first son was born with a severe neurological condition, and with that experience I saw all of my certainties crash around me. We were in New York City and I was spending a lot of time caring for him and trying to do a very exhausting early intervention program while living far away from friends and family. Everything was so overwhelming and I was feeling so lonely that I started taking photographs as a way to cope. I needed to focus on the beauty of my son regardless of his challenges.

Combining my family life with my art has become something organic. My children are around during most of my photo shoots, and they also take part in my husband's projects (he is also an artist). We have decided to create a life together where there is no delineation between the art creation and family life. We travel together, mount exhibitions with the children around, and discuss new ideas at the dinner table.

The arts community and market has offered very little support. I have submitted a few of my projects to open calls which offer funding but curiously enough all the money had to be spent on the art production, so there is never money left for personal and family needs.  My immediate community (which lately is mostly online) supports my art by giving visibility to what I do and by taking part in my projects. Over the years, with a broader recognition of my artwork, I am starting to participate in art festivals and exhibitions that have given their support not only economically but also logistically.


CR: At what point did you begin incorporating your children and other family members directly into your work?

Ana: Before focusing on photography and installation, I was working as a producer for Buenos Aires Television and also at PBS in New York City. I was mainly involved in the production of documentaries, so I was always intrigued by the recording of personal stories. 
From the moment I became pregnant for the first time I started documenting this transformative process. I was not pursuing any specific artistic or aesthetic goal, but the shift in priorities, learning about myself under a completely different perspective, was intriguing. Documenting that change was a tool to understand what I was going through and who I was becoming.

Sombra / Shadow (Serie Las Cuatro Estaciones, 2013-2014)
CR: Do you consider parenting as part of your artistic practice and vice versa? Would you say including your children in your work plays a role in their upbringing?

Ana: My mothering is not a performance. The relationship I have with my children exists even if no one is looking. The reason I expose certain aspects of my mothering to the public is because I think that motherhood has been idealized, and only a very constricted version of birth and parenting has been exposed. I feel that it is important to contribute these experiences that have been banned or silenced, and that can expand the references that as a society we have about mothering. In my artwork I not only portray myself as a mother but as a daughter as well.

I have learnt a lot through each one of my empowering respected births, mothering a child with special needs and total dependency, having a late gestational loss (at home), raising a pre-teen girl,
and committing to freedom not through a selfish pursuit of independence but through the exercise of
chosen responsibility and generous love. I have met wonderful people who have told me they had abortions because they knew that their babies had certain anomalies and they could not imagine themselves coping with these difficulties. Although I am pro-choice, I also feel that in order to choose you need to have as much information as possible. You need to know that life can be wonderful and meaningful even when you are facing difficult challenges, and this is something that is not usually
told. The lack of horizontal and empathetic information makes for an easily manipulated society.


Including my children in my work and my husband's work plays a role in their upbringing in the same way that it did for us to go to work with our own parents when we were young to help them in their non-artistic jobs. The importance is not in the kind of job that they are participating in, but in the quality time we share. The importance for any child is in realizing that their contribution is useful and appreciated. That they are part of something bigger. That they are important.


CR: The body, mostly but not exclusively female, has a central role in your discourse. Where does your interest in the body as a vessel and communicator of ideas come from? Do you think this interest has a direct connection with your motherhood?

Ana: I photograph the body, mainly female, to re-appropriate something that is ours and which has been used, ridiculed, violated, admired, judged, exploited, and objectified throughout history. How I relate to the  body is a mirror of my fascination with life. I am accepting of my changing body, amazed by how my children grow, and intrigued by the aging process. I have enjoyed my pregnancies and have had joyful, intense home births. The blood and nudity seen within the context of my artwork is linked to this authenticity and undiluted sensuality.

I am interested in the body as territory: a place in which each life leaves its trace, not for its aesthetic value. Culturally, female bodily functions have been concealed and treated as something shameful. I expose blood in order to show that we are not objects, and to denounce the debilitation, domestication, and exploitation that women are often subjected to.

Ana Álvarez-Errecalde, My Parents, 2003
 CR: Some of your work documents events that are private and intimate - for example the birth of your daughter or the caring labor for your eldest son. What has it been like to bring these to the context of the exhibition space?

Ana: I took the photographs for El Nacimiento de mi Hija (The Birth of my Daughter, 2005) because I had a profound need to see this sort of maternity represented. While I was pregnant with my daughter, every time I would close my eyes to go to sleep, I had this recurring image of being connected to my baby by my umbilical cord. When I took these photographs it wasn't my intention to include them as part of my artistic work. I didn’t know if the home birth would allow me to capture these moments, I just wanted to do my best to create an image like the one that had enchanted me in my mind. When I saw the contact sheet (at that time I was still shooting film) I soon understood that these photographs had a universal importance that transcended the personal documentation of my experience. I was healthy, happy and lucid to the extent of being able to do a self portrait! I felt that these photographs could help others rethink the idea of the fragile, painful, out of control and overly medicated birth that is considered the norm, but it also goes beyond the occurrence to delve into deeper issues of our understanding of society, fear, and life. This is why it was important to share this and other projects in the context of the exhibition space.

El Nacimiento de mi Hija / Birth of my Daughter, 2005


CR: The photograph of your daughter’s birth has provoked strong reactions, for and against. What did you want to convey or express? Do you think people have understood?

Ana:
With this diptych I wanted to contribute my experience to expand on the constrained social imagery of motherhood. My experience of childbirth is not unique: throughout history many women have had enjoyable, unmedicated, independent, and free births. However these stories have rarely been told. Circulating these self-portraits through arts and media contexts is my way of refuting the idea that childbirth is a divine punishment, an imminent danger, and a painful burden, which we need to free ourselves from. The intensity of labour has a purpose. The pain is proportional to the fear. Childbirth can be a rite of passage. Often I get messages from people from different parts of the world who thank me for sharing this intimate experience. There are also those who feel distaste and compare giving birth to other physiological processes, like defecating. For me this is indicative of the value we give to childhood and maternity. There are people who have had horrifying, abusive, or simply misinformed experiences of labour, and seeing these photographs can confront them with what their experience could have been but wasn't. Sometimes we hide away our sorrows and these images can act as a trigger to something we wish we could forget.

Though I am proud and thankful for many of the positive changes gained by the activism of the Feminist movement, much of this feminism from the last decades was responsible for putting motherhood in the closet. Maternal desire became seen as a failure and a weakness that hindered our creativity, intelligence and development. The natural expectations of babies, as mammals, were not taken into account. Medicine and the pharmaceutical industry rushed forward to offer anesthetized births and milk in bottles that freed the mother from the intrinsic dependence of her young.  For me, violence towards women begins with the repression of sexuality, the appropriation of childbirth, the interference with all vital cycles and the creation of manipulative roles. A negated mother will also negate her body and her presence to her children, so they will all ultimately conform to our unattended, unloved, and unnourished society. This violence consists in promoting shortcomings that trigger a disproportionate consumerism that is perverse and unsustainable. A fulfilled woman who accepts her body and finds pleasure in sharing it with her offspring is a revolution in her own right, because she stops being part of a establishment that feeds the enormous unsatisfied needs of future men and women.

from the series, CESAREAN, beyond the Wound, 2009



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Irene Pérez is a visual artist now living and working near Barcelona, Spain. She shares her life with a passionate physicist, their vibrant five-year-old daughter, and a black cat named Nit. Irene is currently working on the project New Universe; a series of works that explore the learning processes occurring within a family. New Universe will open in fall 2016 as an exhibition, lecture series and workshops at the Documentation Center and Textile Museum of Terrassa, Spain.


Friday, December 18, 2015

Residency Report: Family-in-Residence, Three Ways

Residency Report is an ongoing series of posts from artists undertaking creative residencies with their families. Find out about programs that support artists with kids, and see how other artist-parents balance the residency experience.

Sarah Neville is an Australian chorographer, theatre director, and multimedia performance maker whose current work examines climate change, the effects of which are rapidly impacting the landscape she calls home. Her recent practice incorporates an ongoing series of Family-in-Residence projects together with her two young daughters and her husband, scientist and musician Matthew Thomas, to creatively explore the environment, human impact, and the next generation. We’re thoroughly pleased to share her thoughts on family residency here, a process that continues to evolve and change.


Until recently I spent most of my time researching new projects, applying for grants and leading teams of collaborators in a creative process. Over the last two years I have been sustaining my arts practice through a ‘family in residence’ model. Having young children has changed my perception of work and life. I realised that this was not just a phase of life I needed to manage but that my life can positively inform my creative practice. My husband’s field is music and visual arts, but his primary work is in the science of Human Factors, and together with Miranda (now 6) and Florence (2) we have pursued research on the artistic project Weather Lore / Speculative Culture over a series of family-focused residencies.

'Changing the world will always require action and participation in the public realm, but in our time that will no longer be sufficient. We'll have to change the way we live, too. What that means is that the sites of our everyday engagement with nature - our kitchens, gardens, houses, cars - matter to the fate of the world in a way they never have before.' - Michael Pollan, “Cooked”

Family in Residence I: FoAM
How we live matters to the fate of the world. Our first residency was facilitated by FoAM in Brussels, Belgium, who explore ways of living and working as creative processes. They are also committed to the concept of the ‘family in residence,’ and so were a great fit for us.
Working as an independent artist means I can organize work around my own availability and creative focus. Thanks to FoAM and their very generous family in residence program, in 2012 I travelled to Europe with five-month-old Florence in tow. We spent a week in a mini castle in Istria near the legendary city of Motovun, participated in a futurists meeting at Time’s Up Austria, and ended by consolidating our residency at FoAM headquarters in Brussels. Throughout, Florence was great company.

The residency was structured to include our whole family. Collaborating remotely from our home base in Australia, my husband Matt experimented with sound and Miranda sent drawings and stories in response to the creative content generated there. FoAM founders and collaborators Nik Gaffney and Maja Kumonovic not only contributed creative ideas, but picked up the ‘hard to do with a baby in your arms’ tasks like note taking and documenting. I am not sure what I would have done without any of them.

In my experience, working in the performing arts cannot by design be a selfish pursuit, so there has been no giant shift in life perspective now that I am responsible for a family. It goes without saying that without a sense of others in the world then collectives would fail, partnerships dissolve and collaborations would bomb. During my residency, Florence’s smile, giggle and attentive observation of the world were a delight.

All in all we arrived home with much gained. For Florence, a sense of herself in a larger world. For Miranda, that wherever I am I cherish her involvement in my work. For Matt, that creative collaboration is part of the glue of our relationship, whether that is formalized in an artistic collaboration or the creative stuff of flexible parenting. For me, high quality artmaking takes fabulous teams of people working together seamlessly; the same goes with creative parenting and a workable family life.

Family in Residence II: Adhocracy
The following year we trialled the Foam model at the art lab Adhocracy at Vitalstatistix in Port Adelaide, Australia. Here I found that my creative drive was by necessity directed into being active in daily life: cooking, playing with the children, caring for our plants and talking to our visitors. Whilst I was frustrated at not being able to focus on my work in a way I was used to, by bringing my domestic life with me and living the artistic questions that came up, I found a new method of working. We also had challenges with visibility. Our residency was the only event not reviewed, and there was little documentation taken of our presence by the arts organisation. This raised the question of whether a domestic space can be perceived as a public space and whether family life/ artistic work can possibly co-exist in the spectators’ expectations.  

Family in Residence III: Oratunga Sheep Station
Our most recent iteration of Artist-Family-in-Residence finished on the first week of November at Oratunga Sheep Station in the Flinders Rangers, facilitated through Open-Space. Here Matt, Florence and I were alone, without outside arts facilitators, at a large sheep station. Interestingly, though we were based in a house, domestics were not as in focus as the last residency, which was housed in an arts organisation. The home was not ours, and the landscape and weather immediately dominated our experience. Our presence as a family definitely softened our relationship with the larger community and, as in our first residency, Experiencing the world through Florence’s senses certainly heightened our observations of the world around us and fed into the richness and depth of our artistic enquiry. 

To Be Continued
I am still uneasy with my new method of artistic practice. Sitting alone researching, sorting, and speculating is an old habit to kick. However the Artist-Family model is similar to contemporary dance/ performance studio practice in the short time of practical creativity that comes after the millions of hours of planning, grant writing and imagining. Whilst you enter with a depth of knowledge and a handful of expectations, what happens ‘on the floor’ is what really matters. Managing energy, personalities, co-operation, and synergy of ideas becomes the main state of play. With a family this state of play is the full focus of the creative journey, and what is really exciting is that creative outcomes become grounded in family history.












Thursday, October 29, 2015

The Mothernists, Rotterdam


Mothernists and children at Upominki - image courtesy of Weronika Zielinska

Last summer Cultural ReProducers took part in not one but two international gatherings exploring the role of motherhood in creative work. A little while ago we shared our report on Part I, the Motherhood and Creative Practice Conference in London, England. Now at last we're sharing Part II, on The Mothernists in Rotterdam, the Netherlands.

From June 5th - 7th, 2015,  a group of artists, curators and scholars came together in Rotterdam to take part in The Mothernists, a remarkable three-day conference on cultural reproduction and creativity in caring labor.  The event was organized by the Dutch based m/other voices foundation, and sparked by the work of the Danish artist and writer Lise Haller Baggesen, whose recent book, “Mothernism” and its interconnected installation work reframe the language of the mother-artist.

a shared meal before the event at PrintRoom
In contrast to the large-scale Motherhood and Creative Practice Conference in London earlier the same week, the Mothernists was an intimate gathering, emphasizing the exchange of ideas. It featured thirteen presenters from eight countries, a gallery exhibition, a reading / book launch event, and a roundtable discussion, all free and open to the public. Since several presenters were invited to extend their stays in the region to present at both conferences, we had the chance to catch highlights we’d missed in London along with plenty of new material. The Mothernists also offered an important opportunity to process it all: over homemade meals and a shared bottle of ouzo, women from across Europe, Israel, and the Americas had some of the most complex and provocative conversations I’ve heard on artist-parenthood to date.

m/other voices began as a research project initiated by artist, writer, and curator Deirdre M. Donoghue in 2013, and has since developed into a full-fledged organization supporting critical writing, creative projects, and a range of events reflecting on the crucial role of the maternal figure as a thinker and maker. From the m/other voices website:

m/other voices considers maternity as a verb, as a type of labor, rather than as a noun pointing to
presenters at Printroom (from l to r: Lise Haller Baggesen, Karin de Jong,
Christa Donner, Deirdre Donoghue, and Andrea Francke.
a fixed, physiological state of being, the notion of maternity will be examined here as an attitude and as a discipline in the production of art and knowledge. 

This approach was present in every aspect of the conference, resulting in a unique hybrid of critical thought, generosity, and creative exchange. Active participants included not just mothers but also fathers, m/other voices followers, some of whom are not parents themselves, and caregivers of many kinds. Between presentations, participants were offered free massages by local doulas, those women skilled in caring for women first entering motherhood. And instead of congregating in a hotel, (m)other voices coordinated a network of local artists to host out-of-town visitors in their homes (and for a lucky few, a fully-outfitted camper van).

The Mothernists opened on Friday night with a potluck meal and a book launch/reading at PrintRoom, a vibrant bookstore and risograph workshop piled high with small-press, artist-made publications from around the world. Lise Haller Baggesen kicked off the evening with selections from “Mothernism”, followed by dynamic presentations by Andrea Francke on her project “The Invisible Spaces of Parenthood,” Christa Donner on “Propositions, Manifestos and Experiments,” and actress and writer Terri Hawkes on “Performing Motherhood.”

Andrea Francke (top) and mothernist doula care (bottom)
Saturday offered a full day of lectures by curators, writers, and artists including Natalie Loveless, Courtney Kessel, Irene Perez, Shira Richter, Rachel Epp Buller, Mirjam Westen, and many more. For those who couldn’t make it to Rotterdam, video of these presentations are now available online! The sessions took place at Lees Zaal West, a remarkable volunteer-run reading room, book exchange, and community event space created in response to the closure of many of the city’s local libraries.  The presentations were unified in supporting the vital role of motherhood in cultural work, though it is interesting to note that what this means may depend on where you live. The US is exceptionally poor in its support of working parents, with no paid maternity leave and a standard cost for childcare that often exceeds that of rent. In comparison, the Netherlands (as well as Denmark, Japan, Germany…) provides sliding-scale childcare and paid parental leave that encourage mothers to return to work. So while Dutch presenters focused on the re-valuing of maternal caregiving, American and British participants sought support in the form of supplemental childcare to find time for their work. Beyond this point, however, the stigmas and other challenges surrounding motherhood and career seem to be universal, profoundly impacting the type of cultural work that is produced, experienced, and supported both critically and financially.

In the evening, a group meal at the Ethiopian restaurant M'n Schoonmoeder or “My Mother-in-Law” offered space for further conversation before overflowing out and across the street to the nonprofit gallery Upominki for a richly interconnected exhibition curated by Gallery Director Weronika Zielinska, who we learned had just given birth to her second child just a few days before the opening!

The event closed on Sunday with an informal roundtable discussion to process the weekend’s events. There was a sense of urgency to the conversation, and a commitment to continue it in various forms. I packed my bags to return home feeling inspired, supported, and that with collaborators like these, a whole lot is possible. The revolution may happen slowly, organized via Skype after our children are in bed or off to school, but it’s underway. Stay tuned.