Welcome to ‘The Coming of Age’ exhibition!

There are 12 stops in total for the exhibition.

This is Stop 1, providing practical information about the exhibition.

Stop 2 is an introduction to the exhibition by curator Shamita Sharmacharja.

Stops 3 to 12 focus on key artworks in the exhibition, with BSL explanations.

Stop 12 is a special immersive artwork, and you’ll find BSL there too.

Museum staff wearing Wellcome Collection t-shirts are more than happy to help with any questions or support needs you have.

You can use our WiFi for free. Turn your device’s WiFi on and select Wellcome Guest. The first time you connect you will be asked to enter your email address.

The exhibition space has a tactile floor line for wayfinding. When you arrive at each digital guide stop, there is a square with raised dots on the floor.

Each artwork has white label with a QR code and track number next to it.

Scan your phone camera on the QR code to access the guide. You will be given an option of:

This pick-up station has a screen with BSL interpretation, gallery guides and large-print guides. These guides include a map of the tactile floor line, as well as a list of all the digital guide stops.

You will also find a visual story. A visual story provides pre-visit information about the exhibition, using images, symbols and short written explanations.

Introduction to access resources

Hello and welcome to the first stop of this guide to ‘The Coming of Age’.

I’m Ruth Horry, one of the exhibition’s curators.

In this stop, I am going to explain how to use this digital guide.

There are 12 stops in total, each a few minutes long.

This first stop provides information about access resources. To skip to the exhibition introduction, go to Stop 2.

Stop 2 is just inside the glass doors, directly ahead. The glass doors are quite heavy, and the flooring inside the exhibition is brown. Let a member of staff know if you need assistance getting into the gallery.

In stops 3 to 12 you will hear from the exhibition curators, artists and contributors about some of the key works in the exhibition. This is combined with visual description of the artworks.

You have accessed the guide by scanning a QR code. You can also access the audio information by picking up one of the handheld players and a headset from the pick-up station on the wall, where Stop 1 is located.

A white tactile floor line is designed to support wayfinding between the stops. When you arrive at an artwork which has a stop, this is indicated on the floor by a grey square with raised dots.

You will find a tactile QR code and stop number within arm’s reach of the grey square. The QR codes can be found on circular discs, with a tactile number in high-contrast lettering. They are located either on the wall, on a label rail or on a freestanding label holder next to the artwork.

If you need any assistance, there are members of our team in the gallery at all times. They will be wearing a black Wellcome Collection top.

The floor line from the main entrance brings you to the red coloured pick-up station, which is on the right side of the floor line as you stand on it.

At the right end of this pick-up station you will find: a screen with a BSL introduction, in the middle are the audio handsets and headphones, and to the right are shelves with several different printed guides.

A pale green A4-sized large-print guide includes all of the exhibition texts in large font size, a map of the floor line, as well as a list of all the digital guide stops. It has white symbol of an eye with a line through the middle on the cover.

You will also find a pink A4-sized visual story booklet. This provides pre-visit information about the exhibition, using images, symbols and short written explanations. This has a symbol of a book on the cover.

There is also a light purple A4-sized map of sensory elements in the exhibition, such as bright lights and sound. This has symbols with a hand and an ear on the cover.

There is seating throughout the exhibition. There are also folding seats that can be picked up just inside the exhibition entrance.

The tactile floor line finishes near the exit to the exhibition, just after Stop 12.

The next stop is an introduction to the exhibition, voiced by Curator Shamita Sharmacharja. With the pick-up station on your right, follow the tactile floor line to the square for Stop 2, just inside the exhibition entrance.

Across the globe, people are living longer than at any other time in history. This is due to better housing, education and nutrition.

Medical and technological advances have dramatically reduced childhood deaths and more people are expected to live longer. 

At the same time, people are choosing not to have children, or to have fewer, later in life.

These changes are reshaping our societies all over the world. 

Longer lives can bring enormous benefits to individuals and communities, but they also raise new challenges. For example, living longer means you might have to manage illnesses. 

Does everyone get to live a longer life? It depends.

Government campaigns, adverts and media stories all encourage us to make healthy lifestyle choices. They put the responsibility on individuals to “age well”. You have to think for yourself.

But having longer lives and better health isn’t easy. It can depend on a range of social and economic factors. For example, your home environment, wealth and access to services will all impact your lifespan.

This exhibition explores what increased longevity means for all of us.

It questions our assumptions about age, from adolescence through mid-life to older age. For example, you might think young people are naïve, or that old people are less important.

We all want to age well and have a good long life. What needs to change for us to achieve that?

Introduction to the exhibition

Hello, I am Shamita Sharmacharja, the curator of ‘The Coming of Age’ exhibition, which explores experiences and perceptions of ageing, from adolescence to older age. It does this by bringing together different perspectives from art, science and popular culture across time.

Globally, people are living longer – one in ten children in the UK can expect to live beyond 100 – yet many face health and social inequalities throughout life that impact older age.

Government campaigns, adverts and media stories all encourage us to make healthy lifestyle choices. They put the responsibility on individuals to “age well”. But longer lives and better health are connected to a range of social and economic factors. Your home environment, wealth and access to services will all impact your lifespan. The exhibition asks how societies can adapt to ensure everyone ages better.

There are over 120 objects in the exhibition, including a broad range of materials. These range from historical prints from the 1500s through to contemporary artworks made just earlier this year. They include photographs, large sculptures, paintings and drawings, films and installations. Some of these involve sound and flashing lights. Stops 3 and 12 feature displays that can be touched.

Many of the historical objects in the exhibition are sensitive to light damage. To help preserve them, the light levels are lower in some areas of the exhibition. There are also some spaces showing films where the light levels are low.

The gallery is divided into four main sections. The walls in each area are made out of wood, which is a material we chose because it shows its age. They are stained, so there are visible grains and knots, or painted in different soft shades of colour, creating a calm and restful atmosphere throughout the gallery.

Here, in the introductory space, the walls are natural plywood. As you move through the gallery, the colours start to change and accents of burgundy red begin to appear.

The first section of the exhibition is called ‘Living Longer’. It examines current trends in life expectancy and the historically rooted quest for a long life – and its links with preserving youth.

The second section is called ‘Life’s Courses’. It questions the idea that there is a set shape to life and that it is a narrative of development and decline.

Section 3, ‘Acting your Age?’, looks at stereotypes around ageing, from adolescence through mid-life to older age, and presents works by contemporary artists who disrupt these assumptions.

The last section is called ‘Connection and Care’. It explores what care structures are needed to support people through all stages of life, with a focus on intergenerational connection.

At the end of the exhibition there is an interactive installation, which features oral histories that play out loud and objects that you can touch.

Outside the exhibition there is a feedback area where you can contribute your own thoughts about age if you would like to. Please ask the Visitor Experience team for more details.

Japan has one of the world’s longest life expectancies, but its “super-ageing“ society is also shaped by low birth rates.

In 1963, the government presented each citizen turning 100 years old with a commemorative silver sake cup.

This took place on a bank holiday, Respect for the Aged Day.

In its first year, 153 people turned 100 years old, so 153 sake cups were given out. 

It became a yearly tradition, and in 2014 guess how many people turned 100 years old? 29,000 people, each receiving a sake cup.

But it cost a pricey £1.2 million. So the government decided to stop the scheme.

The public were outraged, and so the government decided to carry on the tradition. But instead of using silver, they swapped to cheaper nickel-alloy cups.

This raises questions about balancing the importance of respect with the cost of resources.

Do we value a 100-year life differently when it is increasingly common?

Sake cups

Hello, this is curator Shamita Sharmacharja again. 

On the wall is a dark red shelf. Resting on it is a sakazuki [sah-kah-zoo-key], a traditional Japanese sake cup, which you are invited to touch. This example, made around ten years ago, is crafted from a silver-plated nickel alloy.

The cup measures ten and a half centimetres in diameter and three and a half centimetres in height, designed to sit comfortably in one hand. It is shaped like a shallow, wide bowl, supported by a short, rounded pedestal base. 

The interior surface, where sake would be poured, has a soft matte finish. At its centre is an engraved Japanese character meaning “longevity”, polished to a bright sheen so that it catches the light.

Cups like this carry a symbolic meaning in Japan. Much in the same way as people in the UK receive a letter from the monarch on their 100th birthday, the Japanese government presents every citizen who reaches 100 with a commemorative sake cup.

These presentations take place each year on Respect for the Aged Day, a national holiday celebrating older people. When the tradition began in 1963, the cups were made from solid silver, and only 153 people received one. By 2014, more than 29,000 people were due to receive a cup, at a cost of around £1.2 million. The expense was deemed unsustainable and the scheme was briefly halted. Following a public outcry, it was reinstated, using a more affordable material, like the silver-nickel cup that you have in front of you. 

Today, Japan has one of the longest life expectancies in the world and is considered an advanced “super-ageing” society. Around 30 per cent of its population is over 65, and the number of people reaching their 100th birthday has risen steadily each year since 1971. At the same time, birth rates have declined, as people choose to have fewer children, or to have them later in life. 

These patterns – longer lives and lower birth rates – are reshaping societies across the globe. By 2030, it is estimated that the UK will also become a “super-ageing” society, with more than a fifth of its population aged over 65. While longer life is something to celebrate, it also raises pressing questions about how to care for ageing populations with fewer working-age people to support them, a challenge felt especially keenly in Japan. 

About one metre to the right is a display case lined with red fabric. Inside are two sake cups. The cup on the left is made out of pure silver; the one on the right is the more affordable nickel alloy.

Above them hangs a certificate; these are presented with the cups. Mounted against the back wall of the case, it measures 36 centimetres high by 51 centimetres wide. The creamy paper is bordered on all four sides with a delicate vine-like pattern of grey leaves and flowers. At the top, within the border, sits a small golden emblem. Across the page, several vertical columns of formal Japanese calligraphy are written in black ink.

Translated into English, the text reads:
“You have achieved longevity of 100 years, and we are truly grateful for that. On the occasion of Respect for the Aged Day, we would like to present a commemorative gift to celebrate the occasion.”
It is signed by the Prime Minister of Japan. 

This subtle shift in material – from solid silver to nickel alloy – reflects much larger questions facing Japan today. These cups are not simply personal gifts; they are symbols of gratitude, public policy, economic reality and social values. 

Do we value a 100‑year life differently when it is increasingly common? 

See the Zimmer frame before you? It helps people to be independent, but some people think it makes them look vulnerable.

This sculpture was created by artist Daphne Wright. She visited different care homes and noticed how Zimmer frames were personalised by residents: a phone, a scarf, a water bottle. 

Wright decided to create a walking frame out of fragile unfired clay. She included a cloth to evoke domesticity and personal care.

The sculpture reflects how these devices can embody different attitudes: that of a loss of independence, alongside that of confident independence and resilience.

‘Zimmer’

You are facing a low square plinth where a pale grey sculpture of a Zimmer frame is displayed. Designed to foster independence, Zimmer frames are also associated with vulnerability.

This delicate sculpture by Irish artist Daphne Wright explores this tension between support and frailty.

It is 92 centimetres tall and has four extremely slender legs, two of which end in small, solid, round clay wheels at the front.

The pale grey surface of the clay is slightly uneven and looks brittle.

A piece of beige-coloured linen cloth, evoking domesticity and personal care, hangs over the top of the frame, draping down at the front. The overall impression is of poignant vulnerability.

“Okay, hi, I’m Daphne Wright and I’m an artist, and I’ve made the work in the show called Zimmer.

I began this body of work using the unfired clay, and it took me, I worked with for over seven years, and during that period, I was Mum at home, and I found a lot of the things that I was drawn to were like household objects, and I began to look at the importance and the relevance of those objects, and also how certain times would be very vital to our life, like the children’s buggy, the pushchair, or the shopping trolley, and in this case, it’s the Zimmer frame. That these things are vital to us and are almost an extension of our bodies. And there are particular times in your life where you might be caring for elderly parents, and we saw that the children’s buggy got disregarded, and at the same time, members in our household would have been considering a Zimmer frame, because it’s a huge psychological jump for an elderly person or a person who’s unwell or needs certain extra mobility.

“But for them, it’s like an aid, but it also it felt like a signal to vulnerability. And lots of elderly people that I knew absolutely rejected it, and then as time went on, actually setting off in it and accepting it, there would be this whole other renewal of mobility and renewal of life. And it became like this absolute necessity, an extension of the bone of the body. And I think with the way I worked the material, and I just took the outline skeleton of the Zimmer that I suppose I really recognised the human body becoming more skeletal-like, and this was a particular extension of that. So the fragility and the vulnerability and the anxiety you felt for somebody up, mobile with their Zimmer still is there, and it’s it somehow is sucked into the emotion of this little piece of metal.”

See the 12 different prints in front of you? They are from 17th- to 19th-century Europe. These people all supposedly lived a long life, well over 100 years old.  

In the past, people’s lives were shorter, but a few people did live a long life. Their precise numerical age was often uncertain.

Records kept by churches often relied on self-description.

Some people claimed to be over 100 years old, but it was likely a mix of truth, exaggeration and wishful thinking.

There is a print of a wife and husband, Sarah and John Rovin. Sarah claimed to be 164 years old, whilst John claimed to be 171 years old. It’s impossible!

The modern record for the oldest human was a French woman named Jeanne Calment. She was born in 1875 and died in 1997, at the incredible age of 122 years old.

Super-aged people

Hanging on the wall are 12 European portrait prints from Wellcome Collection, dating from the 17th to 19th centuries. They are displayed in two rows of six, each mounted in a wooden frame. All of these prints feature people who supposedly lived to be extremely old.

We begin on the upper row, with the second print from the left. It is by English artist John Faber from 1710, measuring 41 cm high by 35 cm wide. It’s monochrome, on browning paper, showing its age. It depicts Jane Scrimshaw, who is supposedly aged 126; she is an older, light-skinned woman. She is pictured in an oval medallion frame, facing forward and looking directly at us with a calm, serious expression. Her face is lined with deep wrinkles and she wears a tall, pointed, wide-brimmed black hat – reminiscent of a witch’s hat – and a dark cloak that covers her shoulders and chest. A neck cloth is tied beneath her chin, framing her face. It is likely the uniform of the almshouses where she lived.

Beneath the portrait is the printed text in capital letters stating that she was still alive at 126 years old on April 3, 1710 when the print was made. Below the oval frame is a longer inscription giving details of Scrimshaw’s place of birth, and her residence in Tower Hill almshouses, London.

Did Jane Scrimshaw really live to 126? It’s unlikely.

People did regularly live into older age in the past, even when average life expectancy was much lower. Yet precise numerical age was often uncertain and records kept by churches often relied on self‑description.

Accounts of people living far beyond 100 at that time are likely untrue: a mix of wishful thinking and legendary stories. Certainly, no one has lived to 164 or 172, despite the claims for Sarah and John Rovin, whose portrait will be described next.

On the lower row, the second print from the left is a smaller monochrome engraving from 1814 by an unknown artist, showing an old-aged, light-skinned couple, John and Sarah Rovin, who were from Hungary. According to the inscription at the bottom, when the print was made John was aged 172 and Sarah 164.

John Rovin stands on the right side of the portrait, stooping slightly as he leans on the walking stick in his right hand. His hair and beard are white and he has a serious expression. He wears a loose, light-coloured jacket and trousers, and open shoes strapped at the ankles. In his left arm he is carrying what looks like a bundle of grain.

Sarah Rovin sits on a low bench on the left side of the print. She wears a headscarf and a long, light-coloured robe with a darker garment, like an apron or shawl, wrapped over it. Her body is turned slightly toward her husband, but she looks directly out at us. Her face is deeply lined, and her expression appears attentive, thoughtful and serious. At her feet, a small cat lies curled on the ground. Behind the couple we glimpse an open fire.

The third and final portrait to be described is on the lower row, furthest to the right. This is a monochrome engraving produced in 1797 by John Yeatherd after a painting by John Nash. It depicts a light-skinned man, Isaac Ingall – aged 118, according to the inscription at the bottom of the portrait. He is seated against a plain, softly shaded background. He has a deeply lined face, thin lips, and a solemn, dignified expression.

He wears a neat white wig with short curly waves, styled in 18th-century fashion. He has a dark, heavy coat with buttons and wide cuffs embroidered with lines. (The coat could be velvet or another thick material, suggesting good quality.) Underneath, a dark waistcoat is visible and a white shirt collar. His posture is stooped and both hands rest on the handle of a walking cane positioned vertically between his knees.

Beneath the image is an inscription saying that Ingall, aged 118, was living with Lady Webster’s family at Battle Abbey in Sussex. He had reportedly served as a domestic servant there for 90 years. Ingall’s gravestone at Battle Church still exists, and says he lived to an age of 120.

All these prints showing supposedly super-aged people such as Ingall, are known as ‘broadsides’ – it was a way in the 1700s and 1800s of sharing these stories and images. This fascination with extreme old age still exists today, and this is why I wanted to include these prints in the exhibition.

Media stories still appear regularly about people aged over 100, asking these centenarians to share their secrets to long life. And assuming that there IS such a ‘secret’ that can be shared with others.

The oldest human, according to modern records was Jeanne Calment, a French woman who lived to 122. She was born in 1875 and died in 1997. Her story became very well known – just like John and Sarah Rovin, and Isaac Ingall were well known in the past.

Arts charity Magic Me brings people from different generations together as creative collaborators.

In this project, nine- and ten-year-old students from a school in Brick Lane, east London, named Christ Church School, partnered with local adults aged between 50 and 80 years old.

Together they explored age and ageism in birthday cards.

When you go to the shops to buy a birthday card, what do you typically see? Someone over 40 is finished. Get older and life goes downhill. Cards for girls are pink and sparkly. Cards for boys focus on sports and football.

Artists Skye Baker and Sue Mayo facilitated workshops to design new and better birthday cards for all ages. Check them out.

The group also imagined a fictional design studio, presenting their research and cards as its work.

You can see the names of the people involved in the project too.

‘It’s on the Cards’

Hello, my name is Sue Mayo, and I’m a freelance arts practitioner. Visual artist Skye Baker and I worked on the project ‘It’s on the Cards’ with a group of ten-year-olds and a group of older adults, brought together by the intergenerational arts charity Magic Me. The project explored ageing and ageism through making and examining birthday cards.

The artwork in front combines illustrated wallpaper with a framed collage – roughly three metres by three metres square – which portrays a brightly coloured and busy wall in a fictional design studio.

The overall style of the work is flat and graphic. The background wall of the studio is covered with a vibrant wallpaper in dark blue and light blue vertical stripes, decorated with large blue polka dots. In the top left corner, a yellow sign with an orange balloon graphic hangs from black chains, displaying “It’s on the Cards Design Studio” in bold blue text.

In the centre of the wall is a large blue bulletin board, approximately two metres square, framed by a thick yellow border. The board is organised into two distinct halves. On the left-hand side, the group’s research is presented in three horizontal sections.

Towards the top right-hand corner of the illustration are two wooden shelves with drawings of various office items, including colourful storage boxes, a clock, potted plants and books. There is a drawing of a cat and dog sleeping on a yellow bed in the bottom right-hand corner.

The top section is called ‘Market Research’. Below the title, various greeting cards and handwritten notes are pinned against a background that is a light green rectangular shape with wavy edges. One birthday card towards the top left of this section shows a drawing of a tortoise with one word – “Old” – written above it.

The middle section is called ‘Room for Improvement?’. Below this title, against an orange rectangular background with wavy edges, is a row of five copies of a 40th birthday card that has the message: “There goes your best before date!” These words have been crossed out and annotated with comments like “Don’t buy!” and “Ignore this!”.

The bottom section is called ‘Focus Group’. Below the title is a purple rectangular background shape on which are stuck handwritten feedback notes about birthday cards.

On the right side of the board at the top is the title ‘Cards for the Future’. Below this are four narrow display shelves with three colourful modern greeting-card designs on each. These cards feature photographs of the participants. Overlaying the photos are positive messages around age, including “Double digits, finally!”, “Another year, one less fear”, and “What was it like in my day? It is my day!”.

Collaboration was central in this project. We wanted everyone, whatever their age, to feel valued and trusted. We asked them to become co-researchers of how attitudes to age are reflected in birthday cards. They enjoyed being investigators and brought back thoughts from friends and family from around the world.

Skye and I worked closely, blending drama games, conversation, design, making, and relationship-building to ensure everyone was included. Working collectively meant listening and accepting different reactions. Recognising we are all shaped by our own life experiences.

We were surprised at how quickly people took ownership, felt comfortable sharing opinions, and made connections. They shared the same favourites and least favourite cards, yet were nuanced; children led a discussion on when something was “banter” or “cruel teasing”, depending on how well you knew the recipient.

The bought cards revealed assumptions and stereotypes about age, gender, alcohol and pastimes. We had fun finding cards that confirmed societal ageism and sexism. Looking at these allowed participants to hear how it felt to receive greetings suggesting you should be young again, were past your sell-by date, that only boys played football.

We invited the group to notice, challenge and improve the cards, which they did by deleting or altering words, changing images, or, in one case, ripping a card up. This empowered them to understand that what society writes in birthday cards does not need to define how we celebrate ageing. The cards they designed themselves are joyful and fearless.

We hope the artwork invites people to ask what they would really like to receive in a card, what might make someone feel special and valued, and challenges the idea that knowing someone’s age tells you all about them.

A study called ‘Born in Bradford’ is the world’s largest study of teenagers.

There are in-depth interviews and yearly questionnaires, co-devised by the participants. It covers everything from financial security to social media and more.

This project gives young people the power to shape their city and influence their future.

Responses inform local decision-making, from healthcare and education to shaping urban design.

Artist and photographer Carolyn Mendelsohn is artist-in-residence for this research.

She has created a photography project named ‘Age of Wonder’, working with young people aged 12 years old and over. 

Mendelsohn knows how important it is for young people to participate and have their voices heard.

You can see some photos and quotes. Each young person helped co-produce their own portrait. They chose their own clothes, how they wanted to be represented, and shared their thoughts and experiences.

Currently there are only a few photos, but over time Mendelsohn hopes to photograph 30 young people every year until they reach 18–21 years old.

She wants to see how things change: their identity, their beliefs about the world, and their dreams and hopes for the future.

‘Age of Wonder’

My name is Carolyn Mendelson and I am the artist and photographer behind the project ‘Age of Wonder’. This ongoing photographic portrait series explores the lives of young people in Bradford, starting from around 12 or 13 years old, and following them until they reach 18 or 19.

This project is part of my work as artist-in-residence for ‘Born in Bradford’, a research programme that tracks the lives of over 60,000 people to understand what keeps families healthy and happy.

Participation is at the heart of my work. Each young person helps co-produce their portrait.

It is really important to me that their voices are heard and that they feel actively involved in the project and are at the centre of their own story.

The photographs on display show a very small selection, just two images each, of three of the young people taking part.

I have been photographing the same 25 young people each year and will continue until they reach adulthood.

I make the portrait with them, and then I ask the questions and record them talking about their lives.

As a body of work, we see each young person grow up, but as well as how they change physically, the series offers an insight into how their sense of identity, their beliefs about the world and their aspirations for the future have changed.

We are now going to hear from Lucy, whose portraits are on display on the right.

Carolyn: Lucy, you’ve been photographed three times as part of the project, and you’re coming up to your fourth portrait. What is it like for you to have your portrait made every year?

Lucy: I find it amazing that it captures the growth of me as a person over the years. At the beginning, I was really nervous and didn’t know how to act around the camera. But now I’m more comfortable and relaxed around it, and I just feel like a lot more prepared for it, because sometimes I don't think you realise it within yourself that you change until, I guess, it’s captured into a photo like this.

It’s so amazing, yet a weird feeling to see, because you have the memories of that time, the emotions and everything that comes back to you around the time, even the good and the bad, and having that captured in a photo, it’s amazing to look back on.

Carolyn: Do you think that your relationship to the camera changed as you got older? 

Lucy: I definitely think it did. I just feel more comfortable and relaxed, almost like seeing myself from a third perspective. And it’s also that creative bond between us both. It’s also got that collaborative side, where we both make it together, to get the perfect result.

Carolyn: Being able to choose how you are represented is a big part of the work. I invite you to wear the clothes of your choice. What did that freedom mean to you? And how did you decide how you wanted to present yourself?

Lucy: It meant a lot, because how we represent ourselves is how many people get an impression of us when we first see each other. So me choosing what I want to wear is how I express myself. Did I want to see a calmer side? Did I want other people to see that? Did I want to have a brighter and more bolder side? And I find that really important, because first impressions mean a lot to people. So being able to express that meant a lot.

Carolyn: Looking at these portraits now, taken at different moments in time, what do they represent to you? And what do you hope visitors might take away from them?

Lucy: They represent to me, the growth and change within myself, the confidence that grew within me. You can see I’m definitely a lot more confident around the camera in the second photo, and I’m wearing my brighter and bold clothing because I felt more comfortable. And I hope that visitors take away the memories of their adolescence and can compare it to my own.

Carolyn: When I look at the portraits, after having worked with you across a good few years and knowing that I’m going to work with you over the next few years as you, as you grow up through adolescence towards adulthood, I just feel it’s such a privilege to be part of that journey, in that we work together to make those portraits and that I actually see your change, not only your physical change, but also I’m interviewing you, and it’s your emotional change, your attitudes change, your confidence is growing. So all those things come to me when I look at them. You know, my, our relationship over the years of making the work, I hope visitors are able to see the individuals behind the portraits, and that they’re able, like you were saying, to relate to their own experiences and that it gives you a voice and a presence, and that the visitors to the exhibition see that.

Artist Serena Korda created three sculptures named ‘Crones’. The name comes from folk tales, where a crone is a witch-like character. It was a negative stereotype of older women, who were often pushed aside.

The artist wanted to change that negative into a positive.

In the 1600s and 1700s, lots of ‘Venus’ statues made women’s bodies look visually appealing. Medical training models used to learn about women’s anatomy also sexualised women’s bodies. Why was that needed?

So Korda decided to create the sculptures to show the bodies of real women and their old-age beauty. She modelled the statues on real women from England’s West Country, aged 44 to 76 years old. All of their bodies have been through change: a mixture of perimenopausal, menopausal and post-menopausal women.

You can see the sculptures are partially dissected; one is like a caesarean, for example, showing real women’s bodies.

In the Bible story of the Garden of Eden, Eve walked up to the tree and took the “forbidden fruit”. She ignored the rule, and took the apple.

The artist connects this story to how women’s bodies are getting older, and are often hidden and pushed to the side as something ‘uncomfortable’.

This pervasive attitude has been around for years, and the artist wanted to change that, linking it to nature.

Apples show how women have lived an incredible life, with lots of experience and memories. Women are full of knowledge and power.

A sound piece evokes wassailing, an ancient folk gathering to bless apple trees to ensure a successful harvest, to honour women.

‘Wild Apples’

Hi, my name is Serena Korda and I’ll be talking to you about my work ‘Wild Apples’.

In the circular room in front of you are three ceramic sculptures of female figures. Each figure is smaller than life-size and modelled from real women: Jill, Babs and me. Their bodies are detailed and individual. The curve of a back, the softness of a stomach and the particular way each figure holds herself were carefully sculpted in clay.

The three ceramic figures have a bluey-green glaze. The figure furthest to the left, Jill, is seated with her legs crossed, her head tilted downward, contemplating the apple she is holding in her right hand. One side of her face has been stripped of flesh, exposing a white skull and eyeball.

Her abdomen is open, revealing sculpted internal organs in pink and red tones, outlined in blue and red.

The figure in the centre is me. I’m standing upright with my right leg bent slightly at the knee. Like Jill, the right side of my face is stripped of flesh, exposing a white skull, eyeball, and pink and red flesh-coloured muscles. The wide, forward-facing eyes create an intense gaze. The front of my torso is splayed open whilst my right hand delicately holds a flap of skin. This reveals a scientific rendering of the abdominal cavity in red, blue, pink and dark brown. On the tree-trunk shelf, the internal organs are displayed. The exposed interior is framed by thick, textured layers that resemble fatty tissue. In one hand I hold a yellow, shrivelled apple.

The woman to the right, Babs, is resting on a brown tree stump. Like the two other figures, her head is divided down the centre. Half is bluey-green and textured like the rest of the body. The other half has the white skull, eyeballs and muscle exposed. She is gazing down. She seems to be focused on a small bird with blue and yellow feathers that’s perched on her arm.

Another small red and brown bird is perched on one of her thighs. Two more birds are perched around the tree stump. One of the birds is picking at intestines around the bottom of the tree stump.

The three women stand on roughly carved tree trunks. The wood is hacked and uneven, in deliberate contrast to the careful modelling of the bodies. Around the base of each sculpture are hand-painted ceramic apples scattered across the floor. Some are bruised and misshapen, others smoother and brighter, creating a sense of both playfulness and decay. The audio playing in the space captures field recordings of wassailing, an ancient Somerset ritual in which people sing to apple trees, warding off evil spirits.

‘Wild Apples’ grew out of my long-standing interest in the different stages of womanhood: the Maiden, the Mother, the Wild Woman and the Crone, and the pressures placed on women at these significant moments of transition. At the time, I was experiencing perimenopause and wanted to reframe this profound hormonal shift away from narratives of loss and decline, and toward celebration, power and ritual. The work was also shaped by the recent loss of my mother, becoming a space to grieve both her and wider cultural attitudes to ageing and older women. Through the project, I gave form to my anger around the gender health gap and challenged the ways older women are so often overlooked or erased, attempting to reclaim the word ‘crone’ whilst doing so.

I was also responding to art-historical and medical representations of women, particularly the slashed Venuses used as diagnostic tools from the 18th century onwards. These were often hypersexualised wax depictions of the dissected female figure. My figures draw from and mock this tradition, reclaiming agency by appearing, to some extent, in control of their own dissection.

The women who took part came through an open call and had never modelled before. They were in perimenopause, menopause, or beyond, and their willingness to undertake such a vulnerable process shaped the work profoundly.

Working in clay connects me to a long material history, and these sculptures deliberately distort the domestic ornaments I remember from my childhood, challenging narrow ideas of femininity and beauty. The hacked tree trunks create a deliberate tension between intricacy and destruction.

Folklore and ritual also inform the work. The hand-painted apples reference Eve, reimagined as wise and curious, and the tradition of wassailing, an act of care for ageing trees. As symbols of ovaries and fertility, they suggest that even older bodies retain creative potential.

Making ‘Wild Apples’ transformed how I see ageing, allowing me to recognise the beauty, wisdom, and power of women in their crone phase whilst carrying that understanding into my own life.

He painted portraits throughout his career, including of himself. Check out the 1977 painting.

He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 1995. He carried on painting and you can see how much his style changed in just five years.

This happened because as his Alzheimer’s progressed, his perception and spatial sense changed.

Utermohlen and his wife Patricia worked with his neurologists to write an academic paper about making art while living with dementia.

William Utermohlen’s self portraits

Hello, my name is Sebastian Crutch, and I’m Professor of Neuropsychology at the Dementia Research Center at UCL, where I have the privilege of working with people with young-onset and rarer forms of dementia.

You are now facing a wall of self-portraits by William Utermohlen. This series of six self-portraits, arranged in two rows of three show changes in his perception and spatial sense as his Alzheimer’s disease progressed.