Cultivating a Passion for Art: Reflecting on 44.4’s Nobody Sees a Flower
As I stood there with my head tilted like a puppy, examining the wall we had just installed, I could hear two people engaged in a friendly debate while entering Ottawa Art Gallery’s (OAG) Sky Lounge. Having spotted Greta Grip’s Nobody Sees (2024), they made a bet as to what it was that nobody saw. As they discussed what might be hidden beneath the layers of machine-knit acrylic yarn, I couldn’t help but smile. The show hadn’t even opened, and it was already catching the public’s eye and sparking conversation.
Greta Grip explaining her work, Nobody Sees (2024), at the 44.4 Artist Talk & Tour. Photograph taken by Alexa Mazzarello.
This past March, the show I curated alongside the 44.4 Mother/Artist Collective (44.4) finally opened to the public. Entitled Nobody Sees a Flower, this brief but influential exhibition provided a platform for 44.4 to explore the intricate relationship between art and motherhood. On display in the OAG’s public exhibition spaces from March 1st to 31st, it prompted introspection and discussions about societal values and the role of women, and children, in the artworld. As a local collective of those identifying as both mothers and artists, this show was an opportunity for 44.4 to demonstrate their ethos and inspiration.
You may be thinking to yourself, ‘I’m not a mother, so why should I care?’ Well, neither am I, but whether you identify as a mother, an artist, or none of the above, the 44.4 Mother/Artist Collective are at the forefront of a community shaping the way future generations will interact with artistic production. Just as our parents and teachers helped us to understand the world around us, 44.4 helped show the public a part of our world that has often been ignored. They showed us what it can mean to be mothers and artists simultaneously, and not just the post-worthy stuff, but the stuff that nobody sees or cares to look for.
The OAG’s Sky Lounge. Works from left to right: Sarah Anderson’s I Can’t Sleep Because of the Flowers (2024), Sarah Jane Estabrooks’ Nobody’s Journals (2023–2024), Victoria Solan and Alexa Mazzarello’s Bibliography (2024), Victoria Solan’s Germany, Japan, France (2023), Victoria Solan’s California, Ontario, Maryland (2024), Greta Grip’s Nobody Sees, and Lucie Raymond’s Moonflower (2024). Photograph taken by Moira Power.
In 1939, the American Modernist painter, Georgia O’Keeffe (1887–1986), wrote, “Nobody sees a flower really; it is so small. We haven’t time; and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time” (An American Place exhibition catalogue, 1939). If you haven't heard of Georgia O’Keeffe, you may recognize some of her work. Often misconstrued as female genitalia despite her constant disagreement, O’Keeffe’s monumental oil paintings of flowers are a source of inspiration for 44.4 and their most recent exhibition, Nobody Sees a Flower. In 2014, O’Keeffe made history when her painting, Jimson Weed/White Flower No.1 (1932), sold for $44.4 million. It quadrupled its estimated value and became the most expensive work by a woman artist ever sold at auction. Unfortunately, a decade later, this record remains unbroken, but it was this record-breaking number that gave 44.4 their name and a source of motivation.
It may seem strange that 44.4 chose an artist with no children as the muse for a Mother/Artist collective, but Georgia O’Keeffe actually wanted to have children. She wrote letters to her husband, the photographer Alfred Stieglitz, expressing her desire for children, but she ultimately faced a dilemma familiar to many women: choosing between pursuing a family or a career. O’Keeffe chose the latter, but what if she didn’t have to choose between being a mother of her own children and being the Mother of American Modernism? O’Keeffe is an inspiration to 44.4 and many other women artists because she helped pave the way for future generations, likely with hope that they might not be forced into the same dilemma that she was. Nobody Sees a Flower presented a collection of 44.4’s work that was informed by O’Keeffe’s legacy. By diversely engaging with O’Keeffe’s observation that “Nobody sees a flower,” they productively explored the intricate intersections of art, motherhood, and perspectives rooted deep within our patriarchal society. It was a chance for each member to push themselves to create distinct and meaningful works, which varied so significantly that the show ended up demonstrating how unique Mothers/Artists’ lived experiences really are.
Rebecca Clouâtre discussing her work with Lucie Raymond, Sayward Johnson, and Greta Grip. Photograph taken by David Wong.
There were eleven members of 44.4 who participated in Nobody Sees a Flower: Sarah Anderson, Jennifer Cherniack, Rebecca Clouâtre, Sarah Jane Estabrooks, Greta Grip, Sayward Johnson, Alexa Mazzarello, Andrea Mueller, Kristine Nyborg, Lucie Raymond, and Victoria Solan. Many of them were encouraged by each other, and the theme of the show, to experiment with their artistic practice. 44.4 is a collective of Mothers/Artists, but more importantly, it is a supportive community where members can collaboratively think through their ideas, receive constructive criticism, and ultimately improve their practice. Members of 44.4 inspire and encourage each other to take risks that would have otherwise been avoided. Alexa Mazzarello, a lens-based artist whose work has expanded from prints on paper to those on textiles like cotton and chiffon, told me that since joining 44.4, her “art practice has a full life and a purpose.” Exhibitions like Nobody Sees a Flower offered Mazzarello the “motivation and purpose to invest time into materials and experimentation.”
Another member, Rebecca Clouâtre, also expanded on her practice. She explained, “Working on Thorn Apple for Nobody Sees a Flower was a great experience for me because it was the first time in my art practice that I really pushed myself outside the medium of collage. I am so inspired by the variety of artists we have in 44.4, and I was keenly interested in working beyond the boundaries of what collage can be.” By using collage off cuts, Clouâtre used paper paste to create a work for Nobody Sees a Flower that blended elements of both sculpture and collage. Her work, Thorn Apple (2024), drew from persisting, sexist misunderstandings in the Western medical system, which echoed the misinterpretations of O’Keeffe’s work. Specifically, her work was a personal portrait that explored one of the most under- and mis-diagnosed diseases: endometriosis. She said, “I felt a special connection to the theme of this show because I decided to make my piece about my mother. I felt the need to make something unique to honour her.” And she did just that.
Rebecca Clouâtre’s Thorn Apple (2024). Photograph taken by Moira Power.
The show and its works were truly unique, as is the collective itself. There are other Mother/Artist collectives, but 44.4 is the only one I know that frequently exhibit together. Their love for their audience and their dedication to accessibility also sets them apart. To me, it seems that their art is as much for them as it is for their viewers. Their effort towards community engagement, which was demonstrated in Nobody Sees a Flower, emulated O’Keeffe yet again. O’Keeffe was a schoolteacher for a good part of her career, helping to shape young minds and future generations’ perceptions of artistic production. 44.4 follows suit, not only by parenting their own children and showing them that mothers are capable of “doing things beyond unloading the dishwasher” (Sarah Jane Estabrooks, 2024), but by also teaching visitors of the OAG to examine underrepresented communities, like Mothers/Artists.
Part of my time at the OAG was dedicated to running tours and workshops for school groups and the OAG’s Art Camps. When giving a tour of Nobody Sees a Flower to a class of art history students from Carleton University, it was incredible to see how much they engaged with 44.4’s work and my curatorial perspective. Many of the students, who stood where I had not even a year prior, had picked up some of my subtle design choices. For example, grouping works with a literary connection, like Victoria Solan’s and Alexa Mazzarello’s Bibliography (2024) and Sarah Jane Estabrooks’ Nobody’s Journals (2023–2024).
As a student of art history, Solan’s choice to include a photographic bibliography for her two other pieces, Germany, Japan, France (2023) and California, Ontario, Maryland (2024), was rather amusing. Solan, originally joining 44.4 as an art historian, was interested in visitor experiences of Nobody Sees a Flower. She said, “Creating a new work for the OAG show was a significant and provocative challenge: how would walk-in visitors to the OAG’s public spaces read my small handmade embroidery squares? The public nature of the show offered me a great incentive to push forward my ongoing exploration of 20th-century modernism, and the small, portable work I made was a direct result of my experience supervising my children during Ontario’s Zoom school years, so it made me think hard about how motherhood has directly shaped my creative, professional, and intellectual output.”
Sarah Jane Estabrooks’ Nobody’s Journals next to Victoria Solan and Alexa Mazzarello’s Bibliography. Photograph Taken by Moira Power.
44.4’s work is informed by motherhood. As such, they often use their children and their personal experiences as a source of inspiration. This caused the creation of installations that were in some ways familiar to younger viewers. A good example of this is Alexa Mazzarello’s work. Mazzarello’s work proved an exciting design challenge for me. She pushed her artistic practice to create digitally manipulated photo-collages that she printed onto two chiffon garments: a robe and a dress. Once I knew that I had to find a way to install clothing, I was instantly drawn to the idea of a clothesline for two reasons. For one thing, doing the laundry has traditionally been considered as a woman’s or a mother’s responsibility. By hanging these garments on a clothesline, Mazzarello’s art was situated within a long history of Mothers/Artists. It transformed the OAG’s Alcove, but there was also another subtle connection that could be made with a clothesline. As I mentioned, Mazzarello is a lens-based artist, working primarily in photography. By hanging her prints on the same line as her garments, and by painting the wall red, the installation was also visually connected to a darkroom. When working with film or light-sensitive papers in a darkroom, a red light is used because it is less likely to influence photosensitive materials. By painting the wall red and by hanging her prints on the line, it gave the illusion of a darkroom while also bringing out existing colours in her work, making the space pop. It was kind of a win-win situation and mirrored the experience of being both a mother and an artist.
But the reason I bring up Mazzarello’s work is less because of my curatorial choices and more because of the very personal connection that her work has to her children. Hanging on the line were four pieces, accompanied by other pieces of cloth that Mazzarello used to experiment with printing on different materials. There was a maxi dress entitled For Maya Lou, I (2023), a robe entitled For Maya Lou, II (2023), and two prints on archival paper called All signs of life are welcome here, I (2023) and All signs of life are welcome here, II (2023). I want to specifically draw attention to All signs of life are welcome here, II because it exemplifies how her children were a source of inspiration. All signs of life are welcome here, II is a digitally altered photograph of a drawing that her son did, on the wall. In this way, Mazzarello takes something very familiar to family households and elevates its status to that of fine art. But the best part was her son’s reaction upon seeing his masterpiece hanging in the OAG; he was excited to say the least. Mazzarello’s work, among others, demonstrates how 44.4 was not just focused on the visitor experiences of other Mothers/Artists; their show was intended to reach a much broader, and younger, audience.
Alexa Mazzarello’s All signs of life are welcome here, II (2023) hanging next to For Maya Lou, II (2023) on the clothesline. Photograph taken by Moira Power.
44.4 intentionally brought children into their artistic practice, and consequently, into the OAG. But the children who came to see Nobody Sees a Flower and walked through the OAG’s public exhibition spaces did not have a boring, negative experience that would forever taint their perception of art galleries. Rather, 44.4 provided a space that was accepting of them, one which was familiar and catered to their playful creativity. The presence of children in a contemplative setting like an art gallery can be strange, but it can also offer other visitors a unique and playful perspective. Most of the time, when we see a child in an art gallery, it’s like seeing a baby on a plane. I’m not a child psychologist, but I think that this reaction, this expectation of misbehavior, ultimately affects children’s and youth’s experience of the art, which is on display for them as much as it is for us. I think that if we are to ignite a passion for art in future generations, we must think of innovative ways to make coming to an art gallery a fun learning experience, without affecting the contemplative atmosphere that mature visitors expect. And this is what 44.4’s Nobody Sees a Flower did. By placing the show in the OAG’s public exhibition spaces rather than within an enclosed gallery, it respected the meditative ambiance of other spaces while allowing children to enjoy the art without fear of being shushed.
In an interview with Nosy Mag, Rebecca Clouâtre said, “I think it’s political in itself for us to include and think about how kids function in these institutional spaces. That just circles back around to the OAG doing free childcare…but it’s like thinking about creative ways that these spheres aren’t so separate and thinking of ways where you can include more people from all different kinds of experiences.” To me, one of the coolest things about art is how it can spark conversations and allow people to share perspectives based on their own lived experiences. Nobody sees a Flower provided a safe space for viewers of all ages to share these perspectives. It brought mothers into the OAG, and with them, their children. And one way that Nobody sees a Flower kept younger viewers entertained was with interactive artwork.
Interior of Kristine Nyborg’s Milestones (2024), part of the Antonyms series. Photograph taken by Moira Power.
Let’s be honest, interactive artwork is fun for all ages. There were three installations in Nobody sees a Flower that the public could interact with: Kristine Nyborg’s Antonyms (2024), and Sarah Jane Estabrooks’ Month of March (2024) and Nobody’s Journals. Each one was a hit, especially with the children. It was so fun to bring the children participating in the OAG’s March Break Camp on a tour of Nobody Sees a Flower. They really enjoyed Nyborg’s Antonyms series, which was composed of four works entitled Tree of Life (2024), Shit View (2024), Wildflower (2024), and Milestones (2024). The kids loved these works because they were able to touch them and get in on a secret that the average passer-by would have missed. Also pushing her photographic practice, Nyborg created a set of interactive boxes that were reminiscent of a cabinet of curiosities. On the exterior of the boxes were idealistic photographs of motherhood, but if viewers were brave enough to lift open the boxes, they were met with an image that wasn’t so pretty. Nyborg, quite literally, showed us the parts of motherhood that nobody sees. Describing her work, Nyborg said, “motherhood is a delicate balance of opposites, yet what we share in public isn’t always what it looks like on the inside.” At first glance, motherhood is picturesque, but if you look deeper, it is a combination of antonyms.
Sarah Jane Estabrooks’ Month of March (2024) after the OAG’s March break camp. Photograph taken by Moira Power.
Another interactive work that the children loved was Estabrooks’ Month of March. It was a giant wall calendar that encouraged viewers to use it as if it were their own. Time constraints are something that we are all familiar with, but I don’t know how the members of 44.4 do it. Estabrooks explained, “Myself and another artist started 44.4 in 2019. We had a lot of conversations about our pre-children art practices, our current ideas, and our future aspirations, and, among other topics, we discussed what we could do in a day and week with tight time constraints. Kids to school for 8:30am, pickup at 3:00pm, then homework, dinners, packing lunches, after school programs and early bedtimes. 6.5 hrs to make art?... Without weekly family supports and no outsourcing of the house-needs, the day is quite short.” Month of March demonstrated how short the days really are. Before the show opened to the public, each member of 44.4 added all their activities and responsibilities to the calendar, and it was both overwhelming and impressive. The calendar was practically full and by the time the kids got ahold of it, there was hardly a blank space. It was located in the OAG’s Studio, where the Art Camps are held, and the children were so excited to be able to add their own activities to the calendar and become part of the artwork.
Sarah Anderson addressing her and Sayward Johnson’s work at the 44.4 Artist Talk & Tour. Photograph taken by Alexa Mazzarello.
Estabrooks’ other interactive work, Nobody’s Journals, also engaged with aspects of motherhood that nobody sees. The work was composed of eight hanging books that Estabrooks’ filled with all the things that she experienced, and nobody saw. Treating the work as a journal, each passage was written with varying colours and underlying emotion. Frustration often came through the words and showed itself as the hand-written text intensified and grew. By allowing viewers to hold the journals and flip through their pages, Estabrooks created a level of intimacy between herself and the viewer, one which helped us understand the necessity of Mother/Artist collectives.
Estabrooks, as the co-founder of 44.4, created the collective to bring together Mothers/Artists who acknowledge that prioritizing a family should not necessitate an exclusion from the artworld. 44.4 is a safe space for Mothers/Artists to support each other and share experiences, something that is increasingly rare in a society that favours independence, especially in women. She said, “The artworld can be a magical place, but it is designed around being seen, creating social connections, [and] attending weeknight (children’s bedtime) openings…Creating 44.4 was about bringing mothers together who felt the weight of all of that.” She continued to say that the artworld is for “those without children, or [with] the financial resources to hire babysitters because from large institutions to small galleries, childcare is not offered.” This is a significant problem because if there is no childcare, it prevents primary caregivers from being able to engage with exhibitions like Nobody Sees a Flower, actively excluding them from the conversation.
The Jackson Café vitrines. Works from left to right: Andrea Mueller’s UNFURL (2024), Jennifer Cherniack’s Sunday, December 31, 2023, 8:58:24 AM, Pinterest Board: “jimson weed/white flower no. 1” Wallpaper (2024) and fake merchandise, Sarah Jane Estabrooks’ I'll Do It This Afternoon (2024), and Rebecca Clouâtre’s Thorn Apple. Photograph taken by Moira Power.
This is where the OAG stands out. Its free childcare program for exhibition openings, as Estabrooks said, “enabled the mothers of 44.4, and other families to see the show.” If it weren’t for the OAG’s free childcare, it would have literally stopped some of the Mothers/Artists from attending their own show. Nobody Sees a Flower was 44.4’s first exhibition held at a major institution, and it was their partnership with the OAG that gave the Mothers/Artists the space to experiment and focus on what matters most: creating art. Jennifer Cherniack, one of the participating Mothers/Artists, told me that in their previous exhibitions, the members of 44.4 had to handle all the behind the scenes work on top of creating art to display. By collaborating with myself, on behalf of the OAG, this process was simplified. She explained, “We had wonderful support from our curator (you!) on all levels and during all stages of the process. [Working with the OAG] also meant that our collective, and our exhibition, could be seen from fresh eyes, and from an external perspective.”
Cherniack’s work, my favourite of which being a peel & stick wallpaper that I used to visually connect the different exhibition spaces, was completely unique. It was a humorous commentary on the consumption of artistic reproductions and her fake merch, not to be confused with 44.4’s new merchandise that was sold at the OAG’s Shop, sparked countless conversations on what we consider to be art. She told me that, “Having the trust and support of the OAG meant that we knew we were in good hands. We felt validated, listened to, and understood. We were taken seriously as individuals and as a collective, and that was really validating – we're on the right track!” The community’s reaction proved this. The show was a complete success and each time I passed by one of the public exhibition spaces, there was someone admiring and learning from 44.4’s work.
Sarah Andreson and Moira Power at the Nobody Sees a Flower vernissage. Photograph taken by David Wong.
I am not a mother, but as I reflect on my experience curating Nobody Sees a Flower, I realize that the show brought out maternal instincts that I didn’t know I had. I found myself defending and promoting the show like a proud mother. Although Nobody Sees a Flower was only up for a short time, the influence that it had on its viewers, including myself, will continue to outlive the show. The attention that 44.4 pays to the experience of their viewers, no matter their identity or age, mirrors the level of care that they offer their own families. Nobody Sees a Flower welcomed all experiences and perspectives and furthered the OAG’s prioritization of acceptance and accessibility. 44.4 and Mother/Artist collectives alike are crucial to the artworld. They inspire younger generations, just as O’Keeffe inspired them. 44.4 emulates things that people can’t find anywhere else. They have taken the first step to making the invisible parts of motherhood more visible in the artworld. And most importantly, they ignite a passion for art in those who have been traditionally excluded from the artworld.
As Mother’s Day approaches, I hope that you will reflect on your own experiences and examine the things that nobody sees. I hope that you find the chance to thank your primary care giver, especially for the invisible things. As we reflect on what they taught us, 44.4 will undoubtedly continue to inspire future generations as they plan their upcoming show at the City Hall Art Gallery in 2025, as they did in Nobody Sees a Flower.