After the Opening: A Quiet Reflection on Motherhood, Art, and Connection

I’m not the kind of person who blogs the moment something launches or shares news about the latest must-see event in town. I’ve always liked letting the dust settle before sharing how something made me feel. Or maybe that’s just my way of admitting I take on too much, and it’s taken me two weeks to even find the time to write this post. I know I’ve said before that I’m often catching up, and it’s true, especially when it comes to blog posts. So I guess this is less of a heads-up and more of a nudge.

If you’ve not seen All Roads Lead to Mother at Swan Hill Studios, there’s just under a week left to catch it as it finishes on the 20th of July. The exhibition was created by artist Sam Pooley Stride, co-founder of Swan Hill Studios, and her daughter Daisy Pooley-Tolkien-Williams, a communication designer and artist. They’re both incredibly open, and this show is the result of them putting that openness into something shared and physical.

I don’t usually get to see much before an exhibition opens, but with this one I had the chance to be involved a little earlier. The lovely Sam asked me to photograph the private view (argh, the imposter syndrome kicked in). So I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the setup beforehand. Even the small part I saw felt full of energy, with a bit of last-minute urgency. The evening itself was warm and full of connection. I think I enjoyed seeing that behind-the-scenes bit just as much as the exhibition itself, because it let me see and feel the real Sam and Daisy, and that’s exactly what the exhibition is about.

The exhibition isn't like anything else I've seen around town. It’s personal and unfiltered, exploring motherhood, identity, grief, and resilience. But honestly, describing it like that doesn't really do it justice. It’s not some heavy, pretentious art thing. It’s just two artists, a mother and daughter, sharing their stories in the most honest way possible.

I asked a few questions, and instead of me trying to interpret or add too much around their answers, I’ll let their words do the talking. They say it all better than I could.

I was curious how the whole thing started, and Sam said:

"Since Daisy did her degree at Falmouth she and I have had this exhibition in our heads. It felt like it had always been there, but when she did the milk bottles I knew we had to do something together."

On how it felt to be so open, she told me:

"It was an incredibly cathartic body of work to create. The honesty of how women talk should be reflected in the show so it was always going to be no holds barred."

Daisy shared what that moment of revealing everything felt like:

"All of a sudden I felt very naked as the first people arrived. Yes, I left it right to the wire for this one!"

When I asked about the materials she used, she said:

"Catharsis plays a huge role in my subject matter. I find that the repetition of motions with embroidery and knitting really helps with that, plus the tactile nature of different fabrics having their own stories to add to mine feels so special."

As the Room Filled

Trying to balance photography, conversations, and soaking it all in.

There was one piece I didn’t properly take in on the night. Not because it was hard to understand or too abstract, but because there was just so much happening. So many people, so many conversations, and I was trying to resist my usual urge to ditch the camera altogether and just talk to everyone for hours (pretty much how I’m experiencing life in Shrewsbury at present, too much good stuff to take in). It’s only after hearing Sam speak about it that I realised what it was:

"I absolutely love my Fuck It Buckets. For me they are so very dark and yet aesthetically pleasing. I love that they have double meaning to others. It's great when a piece speaks to people in different ways."

I don’t usually go to exhibitions like this, where the meaning and emotion behind each piece are so deeply woven in. My default is to focus on the visual, the colour, the layout, the feel of it all, so I think this is one I’d definitely benefit from seeing a second time. I know it would land differently now.

One of the more personal questions I asked was about Sam’s mum. I think I asked it partly because of how close I am with mine. I don’t know how it feels to be a mum, but my mum means everything to me.

I wanted the focus to stay on the exhibition because I think it means a great deal to take in something from another person’s point of view.

That said, I did feel a lot of empathy in that moment. And the fear of losing a parent is something that sits quite close to the surface when you live with anxiety like I do.

Over the past month, a lot of focus in my life has unintentionally been drawn to mothers. At the time of writing this, my best friend’s mum is in hospital after a stroke. My partner Seb’s mum has also been going through health issues. It’s not that we take our mums for granted (far from it) but I do think we drift through life sometimes, not fully noticing certain things until something happens to put focus on them.

That’s part of what this exhibition did for me too. There are so many areas and life experiences raised in the show that might go unnoticed unless you’ve lived through them yourself. So to witness someone who has lost their mum, while also being a mother herself, I could really feel the rawness in that.

Sam shared:

"All the way through, with a glass of red in her hand. I miss her more for doing the show."

That line landed with me because of where I was emotionally. It reminded me how much can sit behind just a few words. Art like this doesn’t always need to be explained. It hits differently depending on what you're carrying.

I’m really looking forward to seeing where this exhibition might go next. Sam mentioned the hope to take it to St Ives, and I think it’s the kind of show that would only grow stronger with each version.

"To try to understand the profound brilliance of women and all they endure."

And Daisy:

"I really hope it doesn’t scare anyone. Ha! There is a rawness about a woman becoming a mother, about Matrescence. The honesty that it's really fucking hard, but it's a beautiful and magical hard."

I asked one of the lighter questions too, wondering what the exhibition might sound like if it had a soundtrack.

Sam said:

"Our soundtrack is long and I reckon Barbra Streisand and Dixon might have a song to sing. No seriously, the soundtrack is All Roads Lead to Mother on Spotify."

Daisy said:

"We compiled a playlist for the exhibition’s private view that spanned across the Twin Peaks and various Luc Besson soundtracks all the way through to Ned’s Atomic Dustbin and the Spice Girls. I like to think it has the essence of Audrey’s Prayer or something by Sigur Rós but it’s probably got too much trauma and rage embedded in it. So maybe it’s an Aphex Twin jobby. That feels suitably chaotic and actually what my youngest was born to."

The exhibition runs until July 20th at Swan Hill Studios, so there’s still time if you want to catch it. And trust me, it really is worth your time. Go not just because it’s art, or because everyone else is, but because it’s real, and honest, and might just make you feel more connected to something or someone than you did before.

And for me, that's always what it's been about.