PEOPLE BLEED

One in four pregnancies result in a loss. One in four will end in miscarriage or premature birth/fetal loss. So many women will experience this yet it remains something rarely spoken about or understood. As a result, the lack of conversation leads to a sense of isolation, failure and negative impact on mental health.

This oil painting depicts four eggs, one cracked leaking yolk (resin) which becomes red like blood. The egg in this collection symbolises fertility, femininity and fragility.

Oil on Canvas

80 x 110cm

Inspired by my own journey of infertility, where I experienced 6 miscarriages, an ectopic pregnancy, a round of IVF...all whilst working as a doctor and at times having to silently and professionally support other women going through the same thing. I have discovered through my own journey and professionally as a doctor that women bleed...but not in the way people think. The female reproductive cycle is often trivialised and minimised to a monthly 'period'. One word, a simple concept and one which is often taboo to talk about. What sex education in schools does not teach, is the fragility of fertility. The pain and anguish that comes with the loss of a pregnancy. The pain, damage and morbidity that comes with having gynaecological conditions such as endometriosis and PCOS. That female genetic-linked cancers are greater in number and severity than male-genetic linked cancers. Gender inequalities in health and society are still unforgivable and poorly understood. This piece depicts an egg as a symbol for ovaries/female gynaecology and as the yolk oozes in the hand (covered in resin for a dramatic finish) the yolk/resin turns red to mimic blood and emphasise the bleeding/pain that is often overlooked.

Oil on Canvas

80 x 110cm

After first sharing pieces on fertility and loss (of a pregnancy or a child)… I was originally focused on the female perspective. I was politely challenged to observe the other perspective which started a discussion over months, prompted a lot of soul searching, reflection and steering me very much out of my comfort zone. What we came to explore was thus; that there is a real irony in life that conception/procreation often begins by an intimate, solid bond and closeness between two beings. Joined in love and intimacy, a promise of new life, a pregnancy, a hope is borne. When there is the tragedy of a loss (be it in pregnancy or of a child) two things can then happen: the world looks to the woman. The one who has physically suffered the loss, her physical organs in pain and processing the loss. The spotlight turns to her with support as the origin of the trauma. Hidden in the shadows and often (without intention) is the partner who has equally suffered the tragedy and the emotional impact of the loss, but who can somehow become invisible almost in the shadow of the mother. Then the irony and secondary tragedy that so many couples experience: a life that was once formed from such intimacy and closeness… when lost can cause a painful divide between the same two people. Two people once bound by such intimacy, forming a promise of life… suddenly divided so abruptly and unexpectedly by grief in loss. 

Oil on Canvas

80 x 110cm

Those that take time to look closely are rewarded, whilst those that don't miss the point entirely... What initially looks like a simple still life painting of the cross section of a lemon actually has a lot more depth to it and meaning. The seeds of fruit, particularly in the lemon, are shaped in such a way that it is no coincidence that they are similar in form to the 'seeds' and components of the human reproductive cycle. The parallels between the seeds and stages of the fruit of nature and the stages of the human reproduction have been lost on some people today in society. Some attitudes amongst mankind have found their way to a place of arrogance, a sense of immortality and indestructibility within the human race. What people are forgetting is that we are no more resilient than the rest of nature. without learning to live harmoniously with our environment we risk being discarded form the Earth like unwanted seeds. The bitter message is meant to invoke thought; reminding us that not only are we no more indestructible than the fruits of the Earth, but that the miracle of life itself is something to marvel and appreciate.

Oil on Canvas

The female form is overly censored. Breasts and the naked female physique is seen as a symbol of sexual desire and pleasure. This archaic view overlooks the other realities and traumas that are sometimes more pertinent to the souls within these bodies. Is it ironic or poignant that the vagina has so many nouns in language when its purpose and what it is capable of producing is as varied itself? The vagina, something people often feel uncomfortable with being confronted with, is the source of the most immense pleasure one can experience. Equally it can be the origin of the cruellest traumas imaginable; directly from the pain of labour, of gynaecological conditions like Endometriosis, the focus of sexual abuse. Some people will see this piece and immediately see in the physique a woman on the flight of pleasure, others will see a woman in labour, some will see a woman in pain and anguish. The vagina at the center of all these interpretations is deliberate and unapologetic. Until we can overcome our sensitivities over something so powerful, we can not begin to break down the barriers and taboos that obstruct owners of their vaginas seeking the liberation they need.

Oil on Canvas

Any mother with a baby born premature is usually not the first person to hold, comfort or change the baby. Even the first contact a mother eventually does have is usually obstructed by wires, healthcare staff and beeping noises of disruption - a barrage to the senses acting as a barrier between mother and baby. When my son was born premature countless people laid eyes on him before I did. It was over a week before I could hold my son, wire-free. I was not even one of the first ten people to physically touch him. The trauma and anguish to come to terms with a moment that should be natural, after a mother waits 9 months anticipating and earning the right to, and is then robbed of. The moment I first held my son after a week of painful separation was captured in a photo and I have tried to paint this multiple times over, never getting it right. This painting, using colours and a more abstract, impressionist feel was the closest I could come to portraying the complex range of emotions I encountered that day. Love, anguish, trauma, grief, relief.

Oil on Canvas

The modern world sees the invention and development of technology as a saviour. The technology that is now available to support Neonatal Intensive Care is a miracle; it has improved the mortality and prognosis for babies born premature no end.

But to a mother with a baby born premature, all those wires, barriers, unnatural materials are painful barriers separating her from her child. Whilst it is doing its best to recreate nature where nature has failed, in the moment it provides a complicated conflict of comfort vs painful barriers to the mother.

Oil on Canvas

80 x 110cm

Society often fails to recognise the continuous burden a mother experiences when her children are born. The cord is not cut at birth, the cord is never cut. A mother's movements are forever weighed down by the ties and responsibilities to her offspring. Whilst a blessing, and a joy, at times this can feel burdensome which is ok to admit. This sculpture depicts a woman rooted to the earth in molten metal, an infant on the hip, a child clutching at the leg. Thus is the inability to move forward without the weight of her offspring. A mothers load is always there.