Birth Rites Collection

Marie Brett, ‘Anamnesis’, Cork: Crawford Art Gallery, 2013.

Last week the Newcastle University Medical Humanities Network hosted Helen Knowles to speak about the Birth Rites Collection. An artist and curator, Knowles built up the Collection, which is the only collection of contemporary artwork dedicated to the subject of childbirth. Founded in 2009 and currently housed at the University of Kent, the Collection was formerly held at King’s College, London.

Knowles spoke about the history of the Collection, which seeks to encourage debate and increase awareness of practices of childbirth. She addressed questions of curation, and of the display of artworks that represent sensitive subject matter. She then presented a virtual tour of the Collection, highlighting and discussing a number of its key works.

The first artwork on the tour concerned the subject of baby loss. Bella Milroy’s Sharing the Gift From Elanor addressed the artist’s relationship with her older sister, who died shortly after birth. The work comprises a photograph taken on the hospital ward just after Elanor’s birth. Beneath this photograph is a reproduction of the same image, made by Milroy nearly thirty years later. The two images ask us to register the differences between them. The photograph captures those who were present to witness Elanor’s brief life, and provokes remembrance for those who were there. The reproduction emphasizes that Milroy’s access to the scene is secondary, and that she can only imagine rather than remember her sister.

Helen Knowles and Francesca Granato, ‘Conception’, 2008. Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

Other pieces in the Collection that address baby loss acted as key reference points for our own project. Knowles’ work is represented in the Collection through the printed wallpaper, Conception. From a distance, the pattern looks like an art-nouveau design, but close up it becomes apparent that it depicts scientific details of the reproductive organs. The wallpaper was on display at the Whitworth Art Gallery’s exhibition Still Parents: Life After Baby Loss, which was showing when we worked on the project, and which both Kate and I visited. Every aspect of the exhibition, from curation to interpretation, had been informed by the project participants; namely, parents who had experienced the loss of a baby during pregnancy or just after birth.

Working with professional artists, the Still Parents project encouraged participants to explore their experiences through creativity. Memory boxes displayed around the walls contained intimate objects that were associated with the loss.

Photo Credit: Anne Whitehead

It was moving to see how these objects were transformed across different media. This pair of shoes was worked into clay and fired as decoration on a pot.

Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

The shoes were etched onto paper.

Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

They were embroidered onto cloth.

Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

And they became part of a wallpaper pattern, combined with a little woolly hat from a different memory box.

Photo Credit: Anne Whitehead

Although our project worked with materials that were more indirectly associated with the loss, the transformation of those materials into ink, drawings, and the digital medium of film was based in the same process of enabling parents to explore their grief through creativity.

Marie Brett’s Anamnesis: The Amulet also forms part of the Birth Rites Collection. Developed in partnership with three Irish maternity hospitals, Brett’s project explored the amulet as an object that holds particular resonance in the context of pregnancy and infant loss. The exhibition displayed ten photographs of mementoes connected to lost infants, which were matched with audio clips of the parents speaking. The Collection holds the tables on which the photographs were displayed, the framed prints, and the CDs and headphone sets.

The words of the parents were very personal (see the pages from the exhibition catalogue, at the head of this post), yet Brett’s decision to place them in conversation with one another was suggestive of the power of objects in the context of grief. Many of the mementoes were kept in a safe space at home and brought out for private rituals of remembrance. In the Irish context, the public display of images of these objects challenged long-standing cultural taboos about infant death. I have written in previous posts about the cillini, clandestine burial sites across Ireland where babies’ bodies were buried in secrecy, often at night. The project’s sharing of stories offers parents the opportunities to talk about their children, and opens up a public conversation around their denied memories.

Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

As I type these words, I have on the desk in front of me the publicity flyer and catalogue for Brett’s exhibition, which were given to me by Judith Rankin when we first discussed collaborating on our project. Although we were not working in the cultural context of Ireland, the experience of losing a twin at birth still remains largely silent in the broader conversation around pregnancy and infant loss.

It was wonderful to learn from Helen about the Birth Rites Collection, as well as to encounter both new and familiar artworks that chimed with our project on baby loss.

Many thanks to Olivia Turner for organizing the workshop, and to the Newcastle University Institutes of Humanities and Arts Practice for supporting the event.

Speak Their Name

Yesterday, I went to see the North East Speak Their Name Suicide Memorial Quilt, which is currently being exhibited at Newcastle Cathedral. The Speak Their Name movement originated in Manchester and the first memorial quilt was made during the pandemic. The North East project was led by Tracey Beadle of the charity Quinn’s Retreat and Suzanne Howes, both of whom have lost children to suicide.

The quilt is made up of three panels with 120 squares in total. Working with suicide bereavement groups across Tyne and Wear, Teesside and County Durham, the project provided a supportive community for those bereaved by suicide to remember their loved ones by making their own square. Looking at the panels, it was evident how much care had gone into the design and making of each square, and they spoke powerfully to the lasting impact of suicide loss.

Some of the squares used photographs of loved ones to make portraits of them as they are remembered now. Kelly’s aunt used a photograph of her niece to create a cyanotype on the fabric, capturing the lovely young woman that she was.

Dyllon’s mother used a photograph of her son that was on his laptop and that he himself had drawn. Tracing over the image, she sewed in details to celebrate her son’s artistic nature and love of Goth.

Other squares focused on the person’s passions. Paul was remembered by his aunt through a nurse’s uniform and stethoscope, representing his ambition to be a nurse and his commitment to his studies through a life-threatening illness. The square also celebrates the qualities of compassion and care that drew Paul to nursing as a profession, and that characterised him as a person.

Samuel’s brother shared his passion for football and they often went to see Crystal Palace together. He used the shirt that his brother wore to the games to make his square, and sewed onto it his name and the age he was when he died. Samuel had worn the shirt to the FA Cup Final in 2018.

A number of the squares had quotations embroidered onto them. Graham’s son wrote onto his square the words of a song that his Dad used to sing to him every evening when he went to bed.

Mark’s son remembered the Moomins book that his Dad had given him, and which became a firm favourite. He embroidered onto his square an image and a quote from the book.

Naomi’s best friend turned to the poetry she has read as a source of comfort and connection since her death, and her chosen quotation from Emily Dickinson was a poem that she felt Naomi would have loved.

Graham’s daughter-in-law also looked to where she had found comfort and solace since his death. Her square represents Lochranza Castle on the Isle of Arran, where she and her husband had felt a strong connection with Graham through the beauty of nature. Sand gathered from Lochranza beach has been attached to the square to form the shape of Arran, together with a magpie to represent Graham’s love of Newcastle United.

These are only a few of the squares sewn into the panels; each of them gives a vivid and intimate portrait of a person who is loved and who was lost to suicide. The inscribing of the names speaks a loss that is socially difficult to communicate and often silenced. The squares also speak eloquently of creativity and community, balancing grief with hope.

The quilt will be on display in Newcastle Cathedral until 27 March 2024.

Conversation

Dune with sea and cliffs in background
Photo Credit: Anne Whitehead

The podcast series Conversations about Arts, Humanities and Health, hosted by Dieter DeClercq and Ian Sabroe, is well loved by many who work in the medical and health humanities. The series, supported by the Winston Churchill Memorial Trust, develops meaningful dialogue and connection between the humanities and medicine. The conversations take place online, and scholars, health professionals and the public discuss how the arts and humanities can inform healthcare. The recording of the conversation is then published as a podcast, together with a reflective summary by Dieter and Ian.

Having enjoyed listening to many episodes, I was honoured to be invited as a guest on the third season of the podcast.  I had already had the pleasure of working with Ian, who was a contributor to the Edinburgh Companion to the Critical Medical Humanities, and the care and thoughtfulness with which the conversation was conducted therefore came as no surprise. I met Ian, Dieter, and Jennifer Pien for a preliminary online chat about what areas Jenn and I would like to cover in the conversation, and about topics of common interest, and we agreed a loose series of questions, which would still allow space for the conversation to take its own direction on the day.

It was a pleasure to talk with Jenn about her work with medical professionals as well as her own creative practice. Our conversation focused on the role of writing and personal stories in the medical and health humanities. We explored the relation between the personal and the critical, and we thought about how bringing the personal perspective into academic work does not mean losing a critical voice. More broadly, we thought about the value of lived experience, the meaning of creativity, and the varied craft of writing.

Thank you to Dieter, Ian and Jenn for such a generous, and generative, conversation. 

You can listen to the podcast, which is episode 23 of Ian and Dieter’s series, here.