Helena Wadsley
“Today marks a shift in our 30 day journey to focus on women who have turned to matrilineal traditions involving textiles to build inroads to the world of fine art.”
— Sandra Botnen, curator
“The tradition of painting really is its own thing, with a strong patriarchal history women have had to bump up against.”
Helena Wadsley is my chosen artist for Day 6. She marks a deliberate pivot from my random selecting of artists toward a focus on women in art. Ironically, when I originally thought of the artist around me, they were all women. Next thing I knew, when I started taking things more seriously, the majority of artists surfacing were men. As a teacher of art at Langara College and Emily Carr, Wadsley observes the same reflected in classrooms. “Students are about 75% women, but when you get to gallery representation, that ratio reverses.” But with her showing of a recent work, Smokestack, opening in New York this month, running through February, Helena Wadsley is part of a movement of women in art who are changing things.
“The tradition of painting really is its own thing, with a strong patriarchal history women have had to bump up against.” It started in the 70’s, a feminist movement in which woman looked to their own matrilinear traditions was a means of changing the game entirely. They focused on textiles; weaving, knitting, needlepointing and embroidery with ideas of these skills moving from the realm of arts and crafts to inhabiting space in the world of "more serious" fine art.
Today the movement has picked up speed, which is not to say the excitement around contemporary art is now dominated by women, but rather what is viewed as "serious art" has given up significant territory to mixed media, sculpture and installation work involving textiles. When Helena Wadsley answered a call for submissions for works on paper to the Atlantic Gallery in New York City for example, she submitted her handwoven smokestack made of strips of paper. It won the distinction of a New York gallery showing.
It is an exciting accomplishment, but our conversation quickly shifted triggered by her passion for materials. “I was interested in what paper could do beyond hanging it on a wall. For example, if you crumple it, it becomes stronger.” She proceeded to share with me how during Covid-19 she challenged herself to 100 days of weaving. During that time, she applied the cross hatching pattern to paper and was surprised how well the woven material could stand up. “And the squares reminded me of brick”, she said.
One hundred days of weaving drew Helena Wadsley into a contemplative state of mind where she was considering her own sense of place, including where she came from. Her parents immigrated to Canada and her father grew up in a town known for silk weaving - the factory is now a textiles museum. What she remembers most about her visit to her parents’ hometown was the Mulberry trees where the silkworms lived and the tall smokestacks. She knew her family history but did not feel the emotional connection. Her weaving became a simultaneous practice of emotionally connecting to her past, and ancestral roots.
Trees (possible stand-ins for ancestral trees) are a recurring theme in Wadsley’s work, along with women’s issues including reproductive rights and female anatomy. All these themes are explored though what she calls “slow labour”, a movement that includes craftism (cross stitching feminist statements into clothing) and yarn bombing (knitting sleeves for trees or quilting, weaving or crocheting yarn and fabric into a chain link fencing) as a response to incredibly damaging effects of “fast fashion”.
“My mother spent every spare minute knitting,” she says. Wadsley now understands the meditative effects of repetitive stitching a garment together or in her case creating an art piece. “Slow speed and repetition draw you into a soothing state of mind, as a result, the measures of success can be different for a woman who has learned to slow down," she says. Wadsley’s own measure of success is not commercially driven although she is thrilled when she sells her work. She is more motivated by her work being seen and her messaging received.
Pricing for painstakingly slow, hand stitched works rarely rewards a woman’s labor beyond minimum wage, but the rare exception does exist. Judith Scott, Faith Ringgold, and Sheila Hicks are examples of artists whose work with textiles can fetch hundreds of thousands per piece. Such art stardom rarely comes to those that deliberately seek it and Wadsley is playing the long game, sticking to the work, and investing herself one artwork at a time. I am personally fascinated by Wadsley's pieces inspired by anatomical illustrations by male artists depicting female reproductive organs. As artistic statements go, I would say she sends out a clear message. “When it comes to reproduction and female anatomy, men are more likely to get it wrong,” she says, “even Leonardo Da Vinci." I am amazed to look at Wadsley’s hand-knit and quilted uteruses that mock medical illustrations of the time.
As we come to the end of our discussion, I am happy to hear that Helena Wadsley does in fact have several art works for sale. It is also encouraging to hear her drive to sell work does exist. "The proceeds from selling work can actually fuel where I want to go next," she says. "Large scale, public installation work!" For a moment practical thinking begins to question her, then I remember Wadsley's passion for materials and her diligent research. I also remember that one of my criteria for buying art is wanting to invest in the artist's trajectory of thought and creativity. And at that I respond with enthusiasm, "I'll have what she's having".
Available Works
"You Asked For It, St. Ambrose" 2018, found book and textiles (book printed in 1885, St Ambrose was the Bishop of Milan in the 4th century and a strong advocate for celibacy perpetuating the notion that women’s sexuality. even though necessary for procreation, was sinful) 12x32x20cm $250 CDN
"Da Vinci’s Uterus" 2019, Italian wool 14x30x30cm $200 CDN
"Mary Maxi(m) Pad" 2020 - found knitwear, found doily, fabric, knitting needles, sanitary pads, yarn 35x30x30cm $380 CDN
"Guido’s Uterus" 2019, fabric 72x22x22cm $220 CDN
"Transfiguration" 2018, arm-knit disposable plastic fencing 300x330cm $1500 CDN
"Norway" 2020, wool and pigment on canvass 56x76cm $800