I have a special interest in women who juggle motherhood and career. I have four children, all adults now, but for decades I struggled with the dualism of wanting to be both artist and mother, and consequently not doing either very well (oh the guilt!). In recent years, my desire to explore this conflict in my own life and that of my daughters has made motherhood a central theme of my portraits.
So I was delighted when Clover Stroud agreed to be part of this project, being a mother of five children as well as a writer. I read Clover’s book Wild Sleepless Nights before meeting her in September, and I could identify with so much she wrote there: the sleep deprivation and constant fatigue, the seesawing between bliss and despair, the all-consuming love for one’s children.
I drove to Clover through the freshly harvested fields of the Oxfordshire countryside, a deep ochre expanse. In the distance, lone farmers were tending to bonfires in the vast empty fields, the smoke billowing in white clouds against the grey sky. I couldn’t resist stopping to take pictures.
Parking my car in the front yard of Clover’s rural home, I dodged Lego and toys, horse paraphernalia and animals. The house was a rambling affair with a huge welcoming front porch, centred around an open-plan space that served as kitchen, living room and dining room. Three old drying stands groaned under multiple layers of washing. A whippet puppy was sprawled out on a plum-coloured sofa beside his crate, while a pair of ginger cats skulked around. The walls were densely hung with pictures and paintings, the cupboards and drawers bulging with all sorts of crockery and utensils to feed a big busy family.
I had scarcely finished greeting Clover when her three younger children arrived back from school, and mayhem erupted for the next hour. As she sat with all three of them talking and demanding her attention at the same time, she asked wryly, “why is motherhood so hard?”
Clover was wondering if the portrait could include some of her children. I told her that would be difficult due to the constraints of the format; I had decided in advance to paint all the authors in the series near-life-size, with dimensions of 120 x 70cm. Later I thought about this again and wished I had made an exception for Clover. She is at a stage of life that demands a big canvas.
She changed into an animal print blouse for the sitting, and we discussed options for a composition. Clover wanted the washing included, and chose to stand behind a table strewn with everyday objects: a cookie jar, a bottle of milk, a jug and a big Lego Ninjago in the middle. She insisted that she should be portrayed as busy, and she was busy. In fact, it soon became clear she was not going to sit still for twenty minutes to let me draw her.
The best I could do was scribble a few lines in five-minute spells. Clover really made me aware of my limitations as an artist; I would have to rely a lot on my photo references for this portrait. I also gathered a second sitting would not be possible: despite her busy life, Clover has just published another book, The Red of my Blood, and her post-publication schedule was demanding. Still, my visit had given me a sense of the character I had to capture: an overwhelmed mother in a chaotic environment, whose contentment and self-esteem is truly enviable.
I started Clover’s painting differently. I did not have a suitable drawing to project onto the canvas, or even a vision of how the portrait should look, so I took the opportunity to try something less precious and tight. Starting with a magenta acrylic wash, a cue taken from one of the walls in Clover’s house, I slowly let the composition evolve. After the first day, I realised this painting was going to be like a coffee table book: one to dip into at different moments.
I painted the standing figure, then the table in front of her and the washing behind her. After trying some pictures on the wall, I decided they didn’t work, so I painted them out again. I added objects on the table, took some away, rearranged them, and then accepted the challenge of painting the Ninjago. Still not happy, I decided to include the two ginger cats to create a full, lived-in space, and with that I felt the painting was resolved. It would have been satisfying to include the beautiful whippet puppy on his plush sofa, but that will have to wait for another painting.
Working on this portrait and thinking about Clover’s lively household made me feel forlorn, especially on those summer days when my neighbour’s children were playing outside. I sat and painted in silence, wanting to hear their laughter and relive this carefree chapter of life. I was nostalgic for my own childhood and that of my children, which passed in a wink.
