Working motherhood: an artist’s view

Sheri Gee is a West Sussex, UK based artist. Her work is often inspired by the commute – observing other working mothers on their commute or in everyday moments. These paintings reflect a snatched, quiet moment between the hectic responsibilities of work and motherhood. I was curious to know what her artist’s eye could tell us about the lives of parents in modern Britain.

Q: Tell me about your umbrella series of paintings. How did these come about?

These days I’m a full-time artist, but for many years I was balancing a job in London, family and my art, painting when I could, inspired by my immediate surroundings. One rainy day while I was commuting back home, I found myself pressed up against the window of the bus, stuck in traffic on the way to the train station. Across the street, my eye was caught by the reflection of brake lights on the wet road, the blurred lights of offices, the colours of people’s coats and umbrellas as they hurriedly began their journeys home. I took a few photos on my phone through the window. I wasn’t worried about motion blur or lacking detail – these things added to the attraction, effects I could translate into painterly marks back at my easel.

The first painting was made soon after, following a call-out from what was then the Twitter Art Exhibit, now the Postcard Art Exhibit. They were asking for postcard-sized artwork to auction off for charity. I had a couple of watercolour postcard pads, which you’re supposed to paint on holiday, but I never did, so worked my way through some paintings, using my photo references. I sent it off and it was sold.

Painting these little rain pieces, of passing strangers, gave me a lot of joy and sense of fulfilment so much so that whenever I was in the city in the rain, I made a point to shoot more inspiration.

Q: What did you take away from these observations of women on their commute?

As a working mother, commuting into London from Sussex, I recognised that the commute represented a quiet space, often without the demands that arrive at the door of the office or home. If you’ve been on a commuter train, you’ll know it’s near to silent. Everyone is either deep in thought, reading, listening with headphones or sleeping. In essence, it’s a distinctly private time, and so on from train to office or train to home. It’s golden time, an hour, perhaps two, where you can rediscover your sense of self. Use it for growth: planning, reading, podcasts, mediation; or use it as a descent into rumination – either way, for many the long commute is a way of life.

Q: The titles of these paintings often convey regret or preoccupation. I am curious as to what you think that might tell us about the function of the daily commute in a working mum’s life?

Yes, as the paintings developed, so did the titles. The paintings definitely came first, then I would stare at them, looking for the mood, the thought. One of the first was ‘Those Things I Said’, echoing my own insecurities and ruminations, followed by titles such as ‘Tomorrow I’ll Do Things Differently’ and ‘I Must Have Misunderstood’. I know I’m not alone in replaying conversations, whether future or past, and the paintings have taken on this persona. They represent the commute as a quiet space to download and interpret thought, unrestrained by daily demands.

I’ve considered my often-browbeaten message behind the work, but I think there’s space for power and positivity too. Rain or no rain, I’d love to hear from women who have used the commuting space for empowerment and paint their narratives.

Q: As a working mum yourself, how do you go about balancing your work as an artist and being a parent? What conflicts does this throw up and how do you resolve them?

Prior to going full-time as a self-employed artist, when I was working part-time in London, as well as trying to grow an art career and be a good mum, I very much felt the struggle. Time was often a luxury I didn’t have – every task felt like a small child pulling at my sleeve. I had to prioritise family and my day job, and yet find ways of staying connected to my art. There were courses I wanted to go on, or groups I wanted to join, but the logistics were difficult.

For many of the very intense years, podcasts that gave me that connection – listening to art podcasts on walks, commutes or cooking, I felt part of the conversation and it helped me to keep striving, waiting. I would find small solutions: picking away at a painting when the children had gone to bed; going to a group one evening a fortnight to paint with friends; making a list of courses I wanted to do when time allowed; talking to friends for a fresh perspective. All of the baby steps add up eventually.

I’ve also included my children as much as possible – they’ve been the subject of many of my paintings; I’ve fed them as babies while invigilating exhibitions; my eldest has often played art director, helping me work through a solution to a painting; they’ve visited countless galleries. Creating art is important to me, I’m glad that I’ve made it part of my identity as their mother.

These days I’m full-time self-employed, which is still fairly new. The work-life divide is currently blurred more than I’d like, but things are easier than they were, now that they’re teenagers. Being organised and forward planning is important. We use a shared calendar app, to each see at a glance what’s coming up. I have to be proactive to balance work deadlines with family commitments, scheduling work early if necessary and make sure I don’t over commit myself, especially around the school holidays. It doesn’t always work out, but thankfully we have a small network of other parents around us if we’re really struggling to make a drop off or a pick up.

Q: You also often paint portraits of parents holding their babies, dads as well as mums. These paintings have a real intimacy to them, and I wondered how it feels to be part of those moments as a third person?

Hanging in our lounge, we have a painting I did many years ago of my husband and our first born, both sleeping. I’ve been known to snap them all while they’re asleep, if inspired. The painting captures a beautiful moment – for me, a moment when he’d taken over, but also the bonding of father and daughter.

Last year I began in earnest to paint more babies and care-givers, asking local families if I could work from their photos. I received an influx – often not just photos, but stories too. Stories of couples trying for a baby, neonatal wards, grandfathers sadly passed, and one grown up child sadly lost to suicide.

Painting these, watching the finished paintings being received, or reading emailed responses, has been so rewarding. The paintings have moved several people to tears – both happy and sad, which I didn’t expect. It’s been a privilege to be party to these families’ narratives, if only through brush and paint.

Q: What does the future hold for you?

At the time of writing, my commuter rain women are on display at South Street Studio, in Portslade, as part of Brighton Artists Open Houses, open weekends 11-5pm until 25 May. I’m currently painting and preparing a solo show of landscapes at Kingscote Estate & Vineyard, here in West Sussex, as part of South East Open Studios, during June. I live close to the Ashdown Forest, so as much as the city has inspired a whole body of work, so has the countryside, recognising the restorative powers of green spaces.

A couple of days a week I teach drawing and painting in adult education, the rest is spent painting and running the business – marketing, adding to the website and sales channels, accounting and such. I balance representational work – e.g. portrait commissions and painting landscapes en plein air – with exploratory figurative pieces like the commuter paintings. I’m eager to get back to those narratives once the busy summer of exhibitions comes to an end.

Sheri Gee is a painter of portrait, figurative and landscape-inspired work, based in West Sussex. She has exhibited with The Other Art Fair, The Sussex Contemporary, and the Society of Women Artists, amongst others; and was published in the book Portraits for NHS Heroes (Bloomsbury 2020). Portrait commissions and enquiries welcome at www.sherigee.com