The Coming of Age

There are many words to describe age and ageing. They have different resonances in different cultures, and each of us responds to language about age in our own way.

In this exhibition we give specific ages where possible and use the term ‘older people’ (defined by the United Nations as those over 60). Some Indigenous cultures use ‘Elder’ for a position of experience and respect within their society. The materials on display contain a range of words for age, including historical terms with negative or stereotyped meanings. Some artworks use reclaimed words – such as older women proudly describing themselves as ‘hags’ or ‘crones’.

How do you feel about particular words about ageing? Has this changed over your life so far?

Japan has one of the world’s longest life expectancies, its advanced ‘super‑ageing’ society also shaped by low birth rates. Since 1963, the government has presented every citizen turning 100 with a commemorative silver sake cup. This takes place on ‘Respect for the Aged Day’, a public holiday. In its first year, only 153 cups were awarded. By 2014, the number had risen to over 29,000, costing around £1.2 million. The scheme was briefly halted before resuming with cheaper nickel-alloy cups. This tradition raises questions about respect and resource. Do we value a 100‑year life differently when it is increasingly common?

This nickel-silver commemorative sakazuki sake cup is presented in Japan to people reaching the age of 100. The Kanji character 寿(ju/kotobuki) on the inner surface means ‘longevity’.

Please touch gently.

These carved ivory okimono (sculptures) and netsuke (clothing toggles) feature Japanese myths and folktales about long life. You might recognise some of these stories as they have similarities with other tales from across East Asia. Two feature gods of old age. Fukurokuju (1) holds a scroll that records the lifespan of all living things. Fukurokuju or Jurōjin (2) sits next to a deer, holding a peach – both symbols of long life. A woman standing next to a deer (3) passes the reishi/lingzhi fungus of immortality to two boys. Two netsuke show the story of the moon hare (4 and 5). In Japan the hare pounds rice cakes with a pestle and mortar, while in Chinese myth it makes immortality elixir for the moon goddess.

In this timelapse film, a bowl of fruit bathed in natural light decays before our eyes. It references 16th‑ and 17th‑century European pictures of wilting flowers. Known as vanitas paintings, these were reminders that life is short and that worldly pleasures will inevitably fade away. Taylor‑Johnson contrasts the fruit’s organic decomposition with a plastic biro that refuses to rot. The pairing of natural and artificial asks a pressing question: what does mortality mean in a world shaped by human intervention?

Designed to foster independence, Zimmer frames are also associated with vulnerability. In this sculpture, Daphne Wright explores this tension between support and frailty. She recast the core of a walking frame in fragile unfired clay. A draped linen cloth evokes domesticity and personal care. Wright was inspired by nursing-home visits where she noticed residents personalising their frames with objects of use and comfort. The sculpture reflects how these devices can embody both resilience and loss.

This walking cane was owned by Charles Darwin. The skull is a reminder of death and of life’s preciousness. His theory of evolution, published while in his 50s, made him internationally famous. Images of the scientist in older age with a long white beard circulated widely. Darwin often developed his ideas on foot – perhaps this cane aided thought as well as movement. Walking sticks, crutches and Zimmer frames have become symbols of older age, with varying associations of status and vulnerability.

Thomas Parr reputedly lived to the age of 152. He claimed he was born in 1483. This engraving was produced in 1635, the year he died. Parr’s extreme old age attracted the attention of royalty. After his death, the king’s doctor examined his body, keen to know his secret. Parr was buried in Westminster Abbey, London, among monarchs and distinguished figures. The myth of his extremely long life was still discussed centuries later and used to sell anti‑ageing pills, shown nearby.

These European prints from the 17th to 19th centuries feature people who supposedly lived to be extremely old. People did regularly live into old age in the past, even when average life expectancy was much lower. Yet precise numerical age was often uncertain. Records kept by churches often relied on self‑description. Accounts of people living far beyond 100 are likely untrue, mixing wishful thinking and legendary stories. Certainly, no one has lived to 164 or 172, despite the claims for Sarah and John Rovin shown here. The oldest human, according to modern records, was Jeanne Calment (1875–1997), a French woman who lived to 122.

The search for long life and youthfulness has deep historical roots. This woodcut from 1536 shows old people making their way to the mythical ‘fountain of youth’. Bathing in its water rejuvenates them. They throw the crutches and walking sticks they no longer need on a bonfire, destroying these symbols of old age. Newly youthful, they enjoy sensual and sexual pleasures in a bath house. People have long visited sites thought to have healing waters. This sample is from a well in Florida, USA. The 16th‑century Spanish coloniser Juan Ponce de León is said to have searched for the fountain of youth there.

This case contains examples of products claiming to ‘treat’ ageing. The pharmacy jar from France once held ‘syrup of long life’. An 1890 British pamphlet advertises anti‑ageing pills using the story of Thomas Parr, who supposedly lived to 152. Makers of the ‘violet-ray’ apparatus extolled the anti‑ageing effects of its glowing purple electrical charge on the scalp, face and body. Its product manual connects youthful appearance with beauty, an association with deep roots in cultures across the world.

This online calculator from the Office for National Statistics estimates your life expectancy based on your current age. It uses an average of the whole UK population. The UK government uses the same statistics to set the age when a person will receive the state pension.  

Pension age depends on birth date, and has risen due to overall rising life expectancy. But there is a large variation in life expectancy in the UK. This calculator doesn’t account for the social, economic and environmental factors that shape our lifespans – it shows an average. It cannot predict how long any specific individual will live.

If you’d like to try out the calculator, please touch the screen. 

The Centre for Ageing Better’s 2025 report shows that experiences of getting older in the UK are highly varied and reflect wider social inequality. These infographics summarise insights into our ageing population, themed on work, homes, health, financial security, and society’s attitudes and prejudices.

The non-profit organisation campaigns on issues affecting older people, such as improving housing and challenging age discrimination. They produce a yearly report drawn from national data sources alongside insights and lived experiences of older people.

Artist Ian Beesley made this banner in response to an ambitious public health study in Bradford – a city with one of the UK’s lowest healthy life expectancies. ‘Born in Bradford’ is following the lives of over 60,000 residents from birth to old age to explore the complex interplay between genetics, environment and lifestyle factors that influence how we live and age. Beesley draws visual parallels with trade-union banners, symbols of working‑class unity and pride. The work connects Bradford’s industrial past with its role at the forefront of scientific research.

The ‘Born in Bradford’ study follows participants from birth, investigating how health is shaped throughout life. Its findings feed into Bradford’s urban design, healthcare provision and local policies. The research also reflects the rich cultural identity of the city, where over half of residents trace their roots to the Mirpur region of Pakistan. As research director John Wright notes, ageing is not just something to study in a lab, or at the end of life. It’s a constant part of our existence, in the environments and experiences that shape us from the start.

Hydras are small freshwater organisms that are understood to be biologically immortal. While most living beings age, hydras do not. And a hydra can regenerate even if its head is removed. Given the right conditions, they can live forever. These tiny biological enigmas have been objects of fascination and scientific study for centuries. In this experimental film, artist Maija Tammi ponders: what does time mean if you do not age?

Hydras are one to three centimetres long and are capable of producing identical clones. They were named by biologist Carl Linnaeus (1707–78) after a monster in Greek legend that grew two heads every time one head was cut off. This work is inspired by a poem from 1763 in which a woman longs for a pet hydra to show guests how they regenerate when cut in half. This happened to the hydras featured here, which all regenerated within a week.

What does a birthday mean if you never age? Tammi imagines a lonely birthday party for a hydra. The immortal creature has outlived all its companions. It rests in a petri dish in an abandoned laboratory, surrounded by taxidermied species known for their longevity. The tortoise, pictured wearing a party hat, may live up to 150 years. The hydra’s true age is unknowable, as it does not age. As Tammi’s accompanying film asks: “What do they put on the cake?”

Cryonics emerged in the US in the 1960s, claiming to offer the possibility of life after death. Members pay for freezing and storage of their body, hoping one day to be reanimated and cured of whatever diseases caused their death. (This is impossible now and in the foreseeable future.) Freezing only the head is offered as a lower‑cost alternative to the whole body. Critics argue that marketing the possibility of life after death is exploitative and pseudoscientific, and ignores the difficulties of preserving corpses long‑term.

Bryan Johnson’s extreme self‑experimentation has included gene therapy and blood plasma transfusions from his teenage son. He now markets high‑cost anti‑ageing products. Subscriptions to Blueprint start at $333 per month. His $49‑a‑bottle olive oil is named ‘Snake Oil’, a dig at his critics. Such proposed treatments ignore the complex web of factors that influence how we age. Johnson also founded Don’t Die, a movement framing ageing as optional. In 2025, he publicly announced his intention to establish it as a religion.

Multimillionaire tech entrepreneur Bryan Johnson aims to slow or even reverse the ageing process. He employs over 30 scientists and spends $2 million (£1.5 million) per year on his Project Blueprint regime. As Johnson explains, he eats plant-based foods chosen for their nutrient content, consumed in a four-hour window, and takes over 100 supplements each day. He also follows an intensive exercise routine, strict sleep timeframes, and minutely tracks his bodily functions. Johnson’s Blueprint ‘protocol’ dictates his daily routine and social life.

This print is one of many images in our collection illustrating an idealised path through life. Made in Vienna in 1820, it shows a man and woman rising up a series of steps through childhood and education to heterosexual marriage and becoming established in society. Their steps descend again as their physical health declines later in life. Each decade is accompanied by a verse, such as “Forty years of good deeds” or “Fifty years of stagnation”.

Playful verses and images in this print from mid‑1800s Dublin compare each decade in a man’s life with a specific animal. At age 20, “love doth fill his veins. And, heifer‑like, untamed remains.” And later in life: “The cat keeps house, and likes the fire. At eighty, we have the same desire.” The alphabetical verses underneath encourage the reader to live a virtuous life according to Christian values, to be sure of a place in heaven.

Devised in the 1860s, this popular board game sets players on a chance‑based journey through life. The TV advert for this 1980s version sang out the milestones for a ‘successful’ life: “Find a job – have money maybe? Get married – have a baby!” The winning path led via heterosexual marriage to retirement in a millionaire’s mansion. If you ‘lost’, you retired to a country cottage. Newer editions feature wider career and family choices, and peg colours beyond the original pink and blue options. The winner is still the player with the most money.

Life paths are diverse and unpredictable, as writer and illustrator MJ Barker observes: “Many, if not most, people fall off the normative escalator at some point in their lives.” Rigid social norms damage everyone: those who force themselves to fit them, and those who are marginalised by them. QUEERCIRCLE’s Queer Creative Health zine series explores tender, queer potentials for relating with ourselves, others, and the world in more expansive ways. Referencing artist Kit Green – creator of the multi-genre project ‘The Home’, about residential elder care – this zine asks what the ongoing process of ageing might open up and close down, for all of us.

Read the zine online.

These three films are part of a Canadian research project. It asks how activist art and storytelling can open up conversations about social justice in Canada. Nadine Changfoot, Angela Connors (Saugeen of the now Bruce Peninsula, Canada) and Gisele Lalonde directed and created their own digital stories. Each one offers a multilayered narrative around time, life cycles and ageing. Together, they demonstrate that ageing is richly diverse, resisting dominant settler-colonial representations that exclude Indigenous perspectives.

‘Aging Vitalities’ (co-led by Nadine Changfoot, Trent University) is part of the research partnership Bodies in Translation: Activist Art, Technology and Access to Life, funded by the Social Sciences Humanities Research Council of Canada (Principal Investigator Dr Carla Rice). It was supported by a research artist facilitation team at Re•Vision: The Centre for Art & Social Justice, University of Guelph.

Jenny Joseph’s poem ‘Warning’ (1961) is best known for its first line about wearing purple, with “a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me”. Playfully defiant, it is a call to break free from expectations, whatever our age. It has twice been voted the UK’s favourite modern poem. From classrooms to TikTok, its themes still resonate.

In ‘Women at Streatham Hill’ (1962) Joseph addresses women’s relationships to their changing bodies. Middle‑aged women, weighed down with shopping and responsibilities, become like stones or trees. Such a future seems unimaginable for younger women, “another species, not just generation”.

Joseph was 29 when she wrote ‘Warning’ in 1961. She said the poem was not autobiographical and that she didn’t even like purple. Instead, it was “the fantasy of a middle‑aged woman [created by] my not‑yet‑middle‑aged self”. The film shows Joseph reading her poem in 2008, aged 76. Her reading brings new significance to the text she has aged alongside.

Arts charity Magic Me brings people from different generations together as creative collaborators. In this project, nine‑ and ten‑year‑old students from Christ Church School in Brick Lane, East London, partnered with local adults aged between 50 and 80. Together they explored age and ageism in birthday cards. Artists Skye Baker and Sue Mayo facilitated workshops to design new cards reflecting the group’s own views on age. The group also imagined a fictional design studio, presenting their research and cards as its work.

Participants: Aarzoo, Alayna, Alina, Andy, Ayana, Bella, Curtis, Elizabeth, Etracey, Iris, Julia, Lizzy, Saeeda, Salma, Samiya, Sammy, Yasmeen

With thanks to: Toynbee Hall; Ms Salma Mohamed, Ms Jasmeen Hayer, and the pupils and staff at Christ Church School

Tokyo‑based Makoto Toya has been an artist for more than 60 years. He primarily uses discarded materials, such as offcuts of brown parcel paper and wallpaper. On these, he creates intricate, multilayered drawings, often of human figures. Reworking and revisiting these across decades, he adds and erases elements, even cutting and reordering them. His images are in a constant state of becoming. Through his ongoing, nonlinear process, Toya questions fixed ideas of identity and time. Past, present and future selves coexist in his work.

Age of Wonder is the world’s largest study of adolescence. Based in Bradford, the seven-year-long health research project involves 30,000 young people. It follows them from age 12 to 19. Yearly in-depth interviews and questionnaires, co-devised by the participants, cover everything from financial security to social media. Responses inform local decision-making, from healthcare and education to urban design. The study gives young people the power to shape their city – and influence their future. Artist-in-residence Carolyn Mendelsohn creates portraits with 25 participants each year, recording their opinions, hopes, fears and dreams.  

Jahzara
“My dream is to live in a peaceful world where everyone has the same opportunities, and everyone has the ability to live their life to the fullest; to experience things they want to experience. For everyone to experience happiness.”

Left: Aaleyah
“I'm not sure what I want to be when I grow up. I think about it a lot, but I don't know. I don't know one straight pathway yet.”

Centre: Reuven
“I hope there’s no war, that I become successful in acting, and that the world’s a better place by then.”

Right: Lucy:
“Being part of Age of Wonder feels amazing. We’re all usually sat at home inside on our devices… Now we feel like we can actually share our voices.”

Three portraits trace a Black student moving through the British education system. The images are styled like school photographs, while also evoking police mugshots. Accompanying captions – “Good at Sports”, “likes music” and finally, “Needs surveillance” – expose reductive racial stereotypes. Tam Joseph’s work highlights how Black children are often adultified – a harmful form of bias which means they are treated as older, less innocent and more threatening than their peers. Created over 40 years ago, Joseph’s critique remains relevant today.

Artist Rineke Dijkstra is interested in moments of transition. She has created a huge body of work capturing adolescent subjects. In this photograph, Julia sits in a quiet moment of contemplation, absorbed by her phone. Lit by the glow of its screen, her pose is reminiscent of a Dutch 17th‑century painting. The portrait subtly speaks to a new kind of selfhood shaped by digital connection, as well as the ongoing debate surrounding screen use and online safety for young people.

For its first feature‑length animation, Disney chose a European fairy tale about a girl growing up to become “the fairest of them all”. In this scene, the forest becomes a metaphor for the risks and upheaval of adolescence. Snow White must overcome adversity and make her own allies before taking her place in society (next to Prince Charming). This coming‑of‑age story has been retold across generations. In Disney’s most recent version (2025), instead of marriage, Snow White dreams of becoming a fair leader.

In post-war Britain, youth emerged as a new social force. With wages of their own, teenagers could spend on fashion and leisure, shaping identities distinct from their parents. This documentary follows 17-year-old Mike and his friend Pat, self-styled ‘Teddy Boys’, Britain’s first teenage subculture. Inspired by Edwardian tailoring and bold quiffs, their sharp suits and sculpted hair signal rebellion and belonging. At a teenage canteen they find community – and sympathy from a local pub landlord who thinks they are misunderstood. For Mike’s father, however, their style represents a worrying break from tradition.

In this parody of the stereotypical British teenager, comedian Harry Enfield captures the dramatic transformation of Kevin from an eager, excitable 12-year-old into a sulky, sarcastic teen. With lank hair, slouched shoulders and an eyeroll for every occasion, Kevin embodies the hallmarks of adolescent rebellion. Being rude to his parents about birthday gifts, going out past curfew, and shouting “It’s so unfair!” are shown as humorous exaggerations of teenage behaviour. But heightened emotions and favouring social connection with peers reflect real changes to the brain in adolescence.

Flo Brooks’s paintings are based on real badges they began collecting as a teen in the 1990s–2000s. Brooks revisited these emblems of youth and identity aged 28, during hormone therapy for their gender transition. The resulting works reflect their experience of a second puberty. At the time, Brooks had returned to their childhood home in south‑west England to care for their parents, leaving behind their queer and artistic communities in London. By scaling up these mass‑produced objects, Brooks reflects on shifting family dynamics and challenges the idea that personal transformation only happens once.

Sharon Adokorach’s vibrant artworks look abstract at first sight. But camouflaged in this painting is a message: “I love doing my shopping. My favourite thing is doing what I want.” It expresses her desire, as a 37‑year‑old learning‑disabled woman, to be listened to as an adult. In the UK, people with learning disabilities are entitled to extended support until they are 25. Then, for many, the job market, benefits system and society at large make their transition to independence a huge challenge.

Elinor Carucci’s photographs record transitional moments in her family life – her children as they grow up, her ageing parents. In her recent series, ‘Midlife’, she turns the lens on herself and her partner and their first physical signs of ageing, to capture universal themes from personal experiences. For Carucci, midlife “somehow allows for ‘more’ out of seemingly ‘less’, less time remaining, less need to prove… I joke more; I try to laugh more, I have to. I feel more and hurt more and fear more. I love more.”

These adverts from 1890 to 1930 associate youth with being desirable, successful and beautiful. The examples here, from the UK and North America, also show how age‑related ideals are tied to norms around gender and whiteness. Edwards’ ‘Harlene’ promotes hair growth using a young white woman with long blonde tresses. Buckingham’s beard dye shows a finely dressed white man whose full beard shows no sign of grey. Kellogg’s cereal makes highly gendered claims: promising beauty to women and offering strength and productivity at work to men.

This cruelly satirical print chastises a woman for using cosmetics and wearing a wig to cover hair loss: “With all your make up, I’m much afraid / You’re booked to become a poor old maid.” ‘Old maid’ was an insulting name for an older, unmarried woman. Visibly ageing remains highly stigmatised, particularly for women. But efforts to hide it can be met with ridicule. This 19th‑century image speaks to long‑standing fears about women’s ability to influence their apparent age.

What do you associate with the phrase ‘cat lady’ ? Cats have long been allied with women who do not conform to society’s expectations, by being unmarried, lesbian or without children. In this satirical print from 1789, women hold a funeral for a cat. It relates ‘cat ladies’ to ‘old maids’, a derogatory term for unmarried women. These women live outside the conventional roles of wife and mother. Does the mockery in this image disguise a fear of their freedom?

This 1626 etching depicts a young witch in her magic circle conjuring up monsters and pipe‑smoking demons. In Europe, witches were generally imagined as women. Roles in cooking, midwifery and healing gave women control over the health and wellbeing of their families. In a male‑dominated society, accusations of witchcraft were a way to suppress this power. In the 1500s and 1600s, fear of witches led to the execution of thousands of women.

In European depictions, witches are usually either young and sexually dangerous, or ‘hags’ or ‘crones’, older than reproductive age. Both archetypes imagine a threat to family relationships – luring men to their doom or harming children. The term ‘crone’, meaning a witch or an ugly older woman, dates to around 1400. This statue, made centuries later, shows how this idea has persisted. An older witch is making potions assisted by her ‘familiar’, a magical spirit in the form of a cat.

Serena Korda’s Crones are figures of powerful wisdom. They challenge negative stereotypes and the cultural erasure of ageing women. Korda modelled them on real women aged 44 to 76 from England’s West Country: “I was looking at perimenopausal, menopausal and post‑menopausal women and wanted to show an under‑represented side of female beauty.” Partially dissected, the sculptures also respond to ‘Venus’ anatomical models from the 1600s and 1700s, which sexualise women’s bodies. Scattered apples suggest nature, abundance and the transgression of ‘forbidden fruit’. A sound piece evokes wassailing, an ancient folk gathering to bless apple trees to ensure a successful harvest.

Poet and zine artist Harry Josephine Giles describes ‘Lines’ as “a small personal zine about a trans woman getting a little bit older”. The zine’s text is arranged in wavy lines, evoking textures and wrinkles on the skin. Giles anticipates being an older woman, with wrinkles shaped by smiling. She reflects on the pressures of ageing for women and how they are intensified for a trans woman. Conforming to conventional beauty standards becomes a means to feel safer and more secure.  

In 1982, John Coplans was an established art historian and museum director. Then, aged 61, he started to create a vast photographic self‑portrait series. He documented every minute detail of his ageing body but he never included his face. The series abstracts his body into fragments that recall the marble statues of classical antiquity. However, instead of a chiselled Adonis, it portrays a more relatable story of middle age. For Coplans, making the series felt like a kind of time travel: “When I pose for one of these photographs, I become immersed in the past… At times, I’m in my youth.”

The title of this series translates as ‘Ode to My Mother’. It features the spider as a symbol of the matriarch – an image that Louise Bourgeois returned to throughout her 80‑year‑long career. Spiders can provoke fear and sometimes symbolise deceit. But for Bourgeois, they had positive associations with her mother: “deliberate, clever, patient, soothing, reasonable, dainty, subtle, indispensable, neat and useful.” Bourgeois was only 21 when her mother died. She explores memories and loss in an accompanying poem. In the last image, the spider is giving birth, with human faces at either end of her body.

After decades of work, Louise Bourgeois finally gained major recognition later in life. Here, aged 70, she poses with her sculpture ‘Fillette’ (‘little daughter’), a phallic form made of latex. Robert Mapplethorpe took this photograph for the cover of the catalogue for her 1982 retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art, New York. The museum later cropped out the sculpture, against Bourgeois’s wishes. She continued making work challenging conventions of gender and sexuality until her death at 98 in 2010.

ARTIST ROOMS: Tate and National Galleries of Scotland. Acquired jointly through The d’Offay Donation with assistance from the National Heritage Memorial Fund and the Art Fund 2008, AR00215

Known as InstaGran, or Japan’s ‘selfie grandma’, Kimiko Nishimoto took up photography at 72. She learned how to edit her photos to create comic and surreal images of herself. One shows her wrapped in a bin bag. On Instagram, she added the caption: “When you are old, being thrown away is just part of life.” Others are pure fantasy, as when she joyfully floats from a tree. She had over 400,000 followers by the time of her death in 2025, aged 98.

American artist William Utermohlen painted portraits throughout his career, including of himself. Some of Utermohlen’s self‑portraits and life drawings displayed are from the period after the artist’s diagnosis with Alzheimer’s disease in 1995. They show changes in his perception and spatial sense as his condition developed. Utermohlen and his wife Patricia worked with his neurologists on an academic paper about making art while living with dementia.

Throughout her long career, Paula Rego explored themes of transformation and the complex emotions that accompany ageing. She rarely made self‑portraits but created this series shortly after she had a serious fall, aged 81. Drawing her bruised and swollen face, Rego is caught between rage, revulsion and fascination. Depicting herself in this vulnerable state, she transforms the experience of injury into an act of creative defiance. As she reflected at the time, “I didn’t like the fall… but the self‑portraits I liked doing. I had something to show.”

Zambian-born, US-based stylist Diana Kaumba stages fashion shoots with her mbuya (grandmother) Margret Chola in the rural village of Mungule, Zambia, on their family farm. An impromptu shoot during a family visit in 2024 evolved into the ‘Legendary Glamma’. This fortnightly fashion series has amassed hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers. Chola, who is in her 80s, has become a global fashion icon, posing in catwalk attire among brick homes, maize fields and mango trees. Grandmother and granddaughter use style to bridge continents and generations. It has become their shared language of love, memory, reinvention and enduring connection.

Rory Pilgrim’s layered, collaborative works blend film, music video and performance. Pilgrim made ‘Software Garden’ with Sheffield‑based poet and disability advocate Carol R Kallend, during a time when severe governmental cuts threatened her access to disability support. Her story is interwoven with those of collaborators from across generations and geographies, including Denmark, Japan and the Netherlands. The work explores how technology can facilitate human connection, or, in Pilgrim’s words, “how to meet from both behind and beyond our screens”.

Tate. Purchased with funds provided by Tate International Council 2021, T15585
Plastic bags courtesy of andriesse eyck galerie

This dreamlike drawing depicts Carol R Kallend with Pepper, an early prototype of a care robot which was trialled in her home city of Sheffield. Kallend, who describes herself as a lifelong pacifist, feminist, disability advocate, knitter and rebel, hopes for a robot carer in lieu of care from the state and the people who had let her down. Kallend and Pepper are featured at the beginning of ‘Software Garden’. A similar Pepper robot is displayed nearby.

Rory Pilgrim made ‘Software Garden’ in the wake of cuts to the Disability Living Allowance. These drastically affected disabled people’s access to state care and benefits. Pilgrim’s slogans and song titles, which appear in the film, are also printed onto plastic bags and posters. They call for compassionate care systems which recognise and support the need for personalised care throughout life.

The photograph shows the artist between her mother and her daughter. They are connected by a spaghetti‑like string. Evoking domestic rituals of cooking and sewing, the thread also links their origins in Ecuador, Italy and Brazil. The Portuguese title, which is similar to the phrase in English ‘by the skin of one’s teeth’, adds precarity and the hint of separation – one sudden bite and the connection breaks.

This work evokes the emotional intensity of family gatherings. The grandmother’s tight embrace of her grandchild conveys both fierce love and suffocating possessiveness. Towering above them, the unstable family tree suggests the complexities of intergenerational relationships. Paula Rego gave this drawing to her son at Christmas, an acknowledgement of the heightened tensions and expectations during moments of family tradition.

Paula Rego made this work shortly after placing her mother, Maria, in a residential care home. The figure with arms folded is her long‑time model, Lila Nunes, who Rego often used to represent herself. Diminished and doll‑like beside her is the artist’s mother. With unflinching honesty, Rego captures the role reversal of ageing and caregiving, and its conflicting emotions of guilt, love, frustration and duty. The title, evoking both breastfeeding and ‘nursing home’, underlines the shifting dynamics of care.

Oded Wagenstein’s ‘Transparent Curtains’ explores the experiences of older gay men. This portrait shows Mordechai Zilberman (b. 1934) wearing the clothes of his late partner of 60 years, Aryeh. When Aryeh was hospitalised, the couple hid their relationship, fearing homophobia would affect his dementia care. After another decline, exhausted by fear, they decided not to return to hospital, and Aryeh died at home. Soon after, Mordechai moved to a nursing home, hiding his sexuality. In this portrait, the hand of his caregiver Rajoo is glimpsed brushing his hair.

Singaporean artist niceaunties creates surreal digital and AI works celebrating ‘auntie culture’. The artist explains: “In many Asian societies, the term ‘auntie’ is both a familial title and a social label, carrying assumptions about age, personality, and societal roles.” It can be affectionate or pejorative. In auntiesocial, the aunties dance and party together, and explore imagined futures. Often sidelined in everyday life, here aunties become central figures navigating the absurdities of ageing, labour and environment. In the artist’s words, today’s aunties are a “transitional generation, navigating tradition and modernity, often caught between the expectations placed upon them and their own desires”. 

In the most recent chapter in the auntieverse, niceaunties created AI-generated black-and-white portraits of fictionalised aunties. Each conveys different characteristics that accompany the auntie archetype – be it their capacity for fierce love, utter tenacity or withering observations. They are pictured with pet animals that encapsulate these qualities. With affection and humour, the series affirms the vital role that aunties play in extended family and community networks. Together, the portraits explore ageing, visibility and empathy. As niceaunties notes, “There is an auntie in all of us.”

This banner was co‑created in 2019 by artists Ian Beesley and Hamari Yaadain (‘Our Memories’). This South Asian group in Leeds for people living with dementia offers support in Punjabi, Urdu and Hindi. Dementia can affect someone’s speech, particularly when they are speaking a second language. Group members are pictured in the banner’s centre within a lotus blossom, India’s national flower. Sound waves on either side are from recordings of the group asking, “When we talk will you listen?” in English and Punjabi.

Artists Ian Beesley, Martyn Hall, Tony Husband and Ian McMillan worked with groups of people living with dementia to co‑create campaigning banners. Based on traditional trades-union banners, they represent collective concerns and hopes. The group Yorkshire DEEP (Dementia Empowerment and Engagement Project) unfurled their banner at York railway station in May 2018, campaigning for better support and understanding on public transport. One side shows common problems for people with dementia, such as overcrowded services and difficult-to-understand timetables. The other side shows the joys of ‘a grand day out’, such as ice cream and tea in Yorkshire’s tourist destinations.

Japan’s Restaurant of Mistaken Orders is a social movement challenging stigma by employing people with dementia as floor staff. Orders may arrive ‘mistaken’, but the project celebrates the joy of human connection over efficiency. In a society that prizes perfection and craftsmanship, it embraces imperfection as a positive form of social change. The initiative reflects Japan’s ageing population – where an estimated one in five people over 65 live with dementia. It fosters intergenerational exchange, visibility and cultural understanding.

With thanks to the Restaurant of Mistaken Orders, Tokyo.

In Japan, the demand for care for older people is rising, but declining birth rates and limited migration mean there is a shortage of care workers. In response, the government recently introduced care robots like Pepper. Trials in Japan and Europe produced mixed results. Academic studies reported that robots devalued people’s perceptions of care work and reduced human interaction in those they cared for. The robots’ maintenance was also costly. Production of Pepper robots was stopped in 2021 due to low demand.

The Welsh Board of Health produced this poster around 1960, recruiting volunteers to visit older people and help them with daily tasks. In the decades after the NHS was established in 1948, services for older people were often shared between local government and voluntary organisations. This callout to the local community recognises the value of making human connections and giving practical help.

Jacobus Vrel shows a glimpse of an ill older person resting in bed. In the foreground, a younger woman sits in a contemplative pose. This tender depiction is both familiar and enigmatic. Is the woman a family member or a paid nurse? Who are the empty chairs for? Vrel’s image captures a sense of care given over many uneventful yet significant hours. It connects experiences of being together with a very ill or dying loved one, from 500 years ago and today.

This five-year collaborative project brought together art, activism and research to explore how unpaid care, work and worklessness affect women over 50 in Manchester. It was developed by a group of women community leaders and academic researchers, with artist Suzanne Lacy and Manchester Art Gallery. Together, they created spaces where women could share their experiences and shape solutions. The project led to exhibitions, policy events, informal conversations, workshops, films, publications and celebrations – including a special dinner honouring 100 women who took part, photographed here. Uncertain Futures built lasting friendships and a strong community that continues to work together today.

Advisory Group

Akhter Azabany

Erinma Bell, CARISMA Services

Sally Casey, Aquarius Tenants and Residents Association

Atiha Chaudry, GMBAMEN (Greater Manchester Black Asian Minority Ethnic Network)

Rohina Oram, MBMEN (Manchester Black Minority Ethnic Network)

Marie Greenhalgh, Wythenshawe Good Neighbours

Teodora Ilieva

Tendayi Madzunzu, ZIWO (Zimbabwe Women’s Organisation)

Jila Mozoun, Raha – Women’s Voices

Elayne Redford, Work and Skills, Manchester City Council

Nadia Siddiqui, Women’s Voices

Circle Steele, Wai Yin Society

Patricia Williams, Neighbourhood Community Development Team, Manchester City Council

Louise Wong, Wai Yin Society

Researchers

Professor Elaine Dewhurst, University of Manchester

Dr Sarah Campbell, Manchester Metropolitan University

Special thanks to the 100 women who so generously shared their stories: Alistair Hudson, former Director, and Natasha Howes, former Senior Curator, Manchester Art Gallery

This film, created at the culmination of Uncertain Futures, draws on actual experiences and illuminates the multiple inequalities around work faced by ageing women. Many women spend long periods out of work, providing unpaid care to young children or disabled or older relatives. This in turn impacts their own financial precarity and how they age. Based on interviews with 100 women from diverse communities across Manchester, these layered voices and accounts highlight experiences at the intersection of age, gender, race, disability, class and migration – faced by many women now and in the future.

Artist

Suzanne Lacy

Director and Editor

Mark Thomas

Producers

Ruth Edson, Jackie Thompson

Director of Photography

Jenni Suitiala

Cameras

Finn Logan Browning, Nadezhda Moshkina, Alikhan Asadi

Production Team

Tim Hawes, Tracy Harper, Evan Wilson, Paul Meardon, Lucy Dean, Owen Massey, Al Boyd

Sound mix and audio post-production

Danny Evans

Colour Grade and post-production

Soup Co.

The research ream of academics and Advisory Group members analysed the 100 interviews to record barriers to work and propose meaningful solutions. They published their findings in a report and the Uncertain Futures Manifesto (2024), influencing policy locally, nationally and internationally.

Please pick up a copy here.

You are invited to explore this interactive and surreal lost property office. Each object holds a personal story – some play out loud. These came out of conversations with ​older ​people from different communities in London. Together, they reflect the vast variety of experiences of ageing today, and how many of these stories are easily overlooked.

‘Unclaimed’ illuminates findings from a recent research project by University College London with 2,000 participants aged over 70 in Camden. It asks us to consider our own attitudes and experiences of ageing today.

With thanks to the participants who shared their stories, Professor Daniel Davis, UCL and the SIGMA project. 

What are you hopeful about as you get older?
What are you worried about?
What do you wish your younger self had known about being older?
Is there a particular age you remember marking?

Here is a changing selection of responses from other visitors.
Share your own thoughts on the question cards available outside the exhibition.

An identical neon light sculpture hangs in the Bradford Institute of Health Research, home to public health study Born in Bradford. This ambitious project explores the social, environmental and medical factors that influence health as we age.  

The sculptures were created by Ian Beesley, artist-in-residence with the study since it started in 2007. He was inspired after hearing researchers describe their ‘lightbulb moment’ when they realised that no single factor determines our health: in fact, everything is connected. 

Discover what shapes the way we age throughout our lives in our exhibition ‘The Coming of Age’. 

Is age really just a number?

Share your thoughts on these question cards and leave them on the shelves for others to read.
We show a changing selection of your responses at the end of the exhibition.