Cover photo: Natalie Stanczak, Sandsack Photography
Dear Natalie, today we want to talk about a topic that is so important and deserves much more attention: the visibility of mothers* in (family) photos. But before we get into it in depth, please briefly introduce yourself and your projects.
Sure, gladly! My name is Natalie Stanczak, I am 39 years old and I live and work as a freelance documentary family and portrait photographer and sociologist in Augsburg. I am a mother of two children and married.
With my work I would like to combine several themes:
On the one hand, I am concerned about more visibility of mothers* and primary caregivers. In particular, it is about the visibility of care in various realities of life and highlighting structural inequality. About visibility in the family album but also in society. It is about showing mothers* and their daily care work. What being a mother actually means. How much joy but also effort mothers* carry with them these days.
This desire led me to create the hashtag or challenge #mamawowarstdu, in which I encourage mothers* and caregivers to take photos of themselves (self-portraits) or to have them taken. To focus on themselves, to demand space and time for themselves to think about their own life, their own body, their own new role, because that is what the perfect mother* should not actually do.
With the Facesofmoms* campaign, founded by me and Nicole Noller, I am trying to go one step further. In addition to our Instagram channel and our book “Until a* cries!” we are trying to get even more into the public sphere through panel discussions, workshops and exhibitions and to ask open questions. Questions about the future of care and society.
How is motherhood lived today? What is the norm of motherhood? How is it portrayed in the media? How does this influence our experience of being a mother? What do terms like socialization and intersectionality mean? How does motherhood and parenthood change and what does all this have to do with us and our society?
Wow, that touches on so many questions and topics that concern me both personally and here at the weeks. Visibility is such a huge thing - because when I scroll through my phone, I have about 10,261 pictures of my child. Alone, with other children, with the grandparents, with the father, with friends of mine. What I don't have many of are pictures of my child and ME. Sure, a few selfies that I took of us and a few pictures from three years ago when I was eating pasta with my son and a friend with older children and she spontaneously took a few photos of us, saying "I'll just take a few pictures so you can have some of you and M." And I remember that it wasn't until years later that I realized what she actually meant. And how important these pictures are to me. Why do you think that is - that mothers* are so rarely seen in pictures?
Yeeeeees, yeeeees, yeeeees! I feel that so much. And it's so great that you have a friend who took these pictures of you. :)
When my child asked me after the holiday if I had even been there, I noticed for the first time: I was in almost none of the holiday photos and videos. For my children, I was not there. I leafed through the albums from the last few years and started counting how often I was actually in pictures. And by that, I don't mean ritualized pictures, like group photos at Christmas or weddings. I mean pictures from everyday life. From life. I only found a handful.
The pregnancy and postpartum period in particular were hardly documented at all. I sometimes played the main role, but was rarely seen. It was similar for me: on the cell phone, in the camera, there were little fingers everywhere, baby faces, with grandma, grandpa, dad and aunt. At the first bath, at the first porridge, at all the first times. But not a single picture of me. Of my first painting - with a child. And the craziest thing about it was that no one had noticed up to that point.
I asked myself whether this was an isolated phenomenon or really a socially relevant gap. In my initial research I came across Laura Larson's book "Hidden Mothers". And learned that "invisible mothers" existed before our time, namely in the 19th century. Contrary to how we might interpret it today but also invisible, mothers* were hidden behind curtains and repurposed as pieces of furniture and held their babies for a picture - often for hours! The relatively long exposure times of the photographic technology of the time required a still life or the mother* to be scratched out or erased in post-production. There is probably no better metaphor for the invisibility of care work. Mothers* are essential to the creation of the pictures, but their appearance is not.
It is still the same today: mothers* and primary caregivers are not seen at all or at least far too rarely in pictures, although they are still the majority who do most of the care work. Paradoxically, they also take on the task of collecting memories as part of the care work. It is in the "nature" of things that they forget themselves in the process and is the logical consequence of a society that demands everything from mothers* and that everything always happens in the background. For me, the absence of mothers* in pictures is not an isolated phenomenon, but can be explained structurally.
A “mothers* photo gap”, so to speak.
From my everyday professional life, I can say that it is mostly mothers* who want professional photos and (in heterosexual relationships) at the same time it is usually the fathers who decide on the family budget and do not want to spend money on this "luxury". And/or do not see the value. The longing for photos is usually dismissed with an eye roll. In addition, there are also many families who simply cannot afford such a shoot, even if they wanted to. In general - having a life that you consider valuable, that you want to capture, that you want to see, that is a great privilege. For me, the "mothers* photo gap" is always a class issue and is associated with many privileges and resources. Emancipating yourself from it is work and requires a lot of capacity that not everyone has.
Thank you for this extremely important classification. And the reference to the fact that people (mothers*) have to feel that their lives and themselves are somehow presentable in order to be visible in pictures. In this context, do you also think that the invisibility has something to do with the fact that mothers* find themselves and their bodies horrible in pictures (especially shortly after a pregnancy)? If so, what would you like to say to all the mothers* out there about this.
In any case, you are touching on something very important. Last year I had a very nice and at the same time very sobering conversation with a customer. She wanted beautiful pictures, but she didn't believe that it would work with her family if they showed themselves as they are. She knew the way I photographed families and was very unsure whether her home would turn out as beautiful as the families I presented on Insta. She talked about not having the perfect figure 8 weeks after giving birth. Her apartment would also be in chaos. We had two wonderful conversations about beauty ideals, the mother* myth, societal expectations and I tried to allay her fears. But what I realized during that and again and again: these feelings don't just go away after two conversations. These are all long-term female socialization and internalized societal expectations of the role of mother* and perceived female person. And they don't just go away because someone else says, "Stop thinking like that." It's a long road that requires a lot of resources, but maybe I can show you something with my path:
I felt the same way and I still feel the same way today. But something has changed in terms of my pictures. I used to see myself in pictures and the first thing I looked at was my body. I didn't think I was beautiful in this new body and I couldn't find my way in this new role. I only looked at how I looked and not what was really visible in these pictures. That's why I didn't want to be photographed - consciously or subconsciously - and didn't believe I was worth it. I thought it would be vain and embarrassing to take a picture of myself or to ask other people to do so. As a result, I lost many important pictures and memories. It took a long time before I understood the value behind the pictures. That I am worth it, that it's not about the others, but about me. Seeing myself. Being seen. Photographs tell family stories that are passed down through generations and become biographies. If people are always missing, that's a problem! I don't mean the selfies you mentioned or ritualized pictures, but really pictures from everyday life. In the sandbox, in bed, when reading aloud, when getting dressed, when comforting and cuddling. These images of care work, of love, joy, sadness, anger - everything that makes up motherhood and parenthood.
I'm slowly trying to close this gap. But it's a great privilege that not every mother* or caregiver has. I know that. But what I definitely want to give all mothers* and caregivers is that they know that they are worthy of being part of the family history.
YOU ARE DAMN WORTH IT!
What an appeal! <3 So let's get practical: What advice do you have for mothers* to take more pictures of themselves (even alone!) and their children? Should they demand this more, take pictures of themselves in a completely different way?
As mentioned above, it was and is a long journey that requires a lot of resources, space and time, also for me because or although I am a photographer.
Mentioning it repeatedly in the family and with potential life partners and expressing the longing for these pictures can be a way to get more photos, but it doesn't have to be. It can take a long time for an eye roll to turn into a photo.
A possible first step could be a kind of “tandem mom/caregiver.” Do you know a mom/caregiver who feels the same way? Maybe you could take a photo of each other with your cell phones? Or talk to a mom/caregiver at the playground?
For people who don't have anyone around who can take photos, I would recommend simply turning on your phone and taking short videos or using the self-timer to take a series of photos. To do this, put your phone on the windowsill, shelf, etc. and let it run. Don't think too much about it, don't position anyone, or force them to do anything.
I realized how much I need these pictures, especially to see what happened to me and my family. To process both pleasant and painful memories. To gather insights and reflect. Photography and the pictures have something healing for me and I have to admit that I have felt better since I have these pictures of myself. On the one hand because I see myself and feel seen and on the other hand because I give myself space and time, far away from any care and paid work, far away from media ideals and cute little children's feet. These self-portraits have become my language. My little revolution. Haha.
Putting yourself in the spotlight, being visible, having space and time just for yourself is a great privilege as a mother*. And it simply shouldn't be that way. For anyone!
And in your opinion, are there other ways to preserve memories besides photos?
Especially at the end of the year, I sometimes get this “guilty” feeling that I haven’t designed a yearbook for my children again. And that’s OK, because I think I’ve slowly started to let go of the idea of doing everything right, especially when it comes to collecting memories. I’ve found a few ways to calm my guilty conscience and at the same time my sense of aesthetics, without succumbing to this memory mental load. Well, it doesn’t work 100% yet, but it does most of the time. And I allow myself one thing above all: to be chaotic and to let moments go. There is simply no wrong way to collect memories! Every path is as it is and tells your story. Let’s celebrate the value of memories without letting ourselves be pressured by perfection. Maybe we can also understand the term “collecting memories” anew, reinterpret it. Because each of us already remembers, every day, in our own way. Other possibilities, without any photos, are e.g. B. Audio recordings and/or cell phone videos. The following three are my 3 favorites:
Family diary
This little overflowing notebook has really helped me to make peace with this whole memory, milestone and yearbook mental load. I don't write long texts, but just jot down short thoughts or memories in a random notebook to simply capture random moments. One book for both children, snippets, Polaroids, drawings. Done. All family members have access, everything is possible, nothing is mandatory.
Thematic photo books
Nevertheless, I have to admit that my photographer's heart loves printed albums everywhere. That's why I started to create photo books on certain topics or for a certain time of the year, thinking about concepts and stories and seeing it as a kind of art photo book project. Possible topics for my photo books are: The time between the years, The summer of 2020, mamawowarstdu self-portraits, black and white life, etc.
The memory box
Everything important that falls into my hands ends up in there. Bits of paper, notes, tickets, appointment calendars, memorabilia - all family members decide for themselves what should go in. Total chaos but pure love, hehe.
Thank you for this conversation, Natalie!
