Art and Ageism

Three artists – Leslie Hossack, Lynn Christine Kelly and Sharon Rose Kootenay – reflect on growing older in the art world.

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Times are changing. Not so long ago, fine arts faculties were Old Boys clubs. Now, the gender ratio has equalized or even reversed. Similarly, artists from minority backgrounds have been getting more attention in galleries over the last few years. They are moving up – quite literally at the Art Gallery of Alberta, where 5 Artists 1 Love, an exhibition series that celebrates Edmonton’s African Canadian artists, was recently relocated from the basement to the gallery’s main floor. Yet amidst such progress lurks another common, but little discussed form of prejudice – ageism. It’s subtle, normalized and rarely challenged. 

According to a 2021 report by the World Health Organization, every second person globally is believed to hold ageist attitudes. Surveys of older adults indicate they feel perceived as clichés: incompetent, unproductive and inflexible, but friendly. Age discrimination in hiring, particularly among women near retirement age, is rampant. Unfortunately, Einstein’s comment, “A person who has not made his great contribution to science before the age of 30 will never do so,” has seeped into the lore of many fields, including the arts.

But New York Times reporter Matt Richtel, the author of Inspired: Understanding Creativity: A Journey Through Art, Science, and the Soul, says Einstein was wrong. Creativity doesn’t have a best-before date. The average age of scientists who make major discoveries is rising, while historians and philosophers often create their best work late in life. The same could be said for artists. Monet began his famous water lily paintings at 57. Matisse developed his renowned cut-outs in his late 70s, and Cézanne really only hit his stride after he was 50. Closer to home, Emily Carr started her most original paintings in her late 50s.

Ageism permeates the art world, particularly for women, but it’s often ephemeral.

Yet the art world remains obsessed with youth. Older artists who work as contract instructors at universities are often bypassed for tenured positions. Galleries now making efforts to boost employee diversity don’t seem to have age discrimination on their radar. Some residencies and major prizes are restricted to younger artists – although Britain’s Turner Prize and the Sobey Art Award, here in Canada, scrapped this restriction in 2017 and 2021, respectively.

Ageism permeates the art world, particularly for women, but it’s often ephemeral. How often do galleries overlook artists of a certain age in favour of someone younger? Is an older artist less likely to receive a coveted grant? Such questions don’t have well-documented answers. Kelly Hill, an authority on arts and culture research in Canada, says information about ageism is “sorely lacking” in the arts.

That means ageism can only be glimpsed through the lens of individual experience. We talked to three women ­– Sharon Rose Kootenay, Lynn Christine Kelly and Leslie Hossack – who all became professional artists after long careers in other fields, a trajectory more common with women than men. Their stories about successfully transitioning into the arts demonstrate that creativity defies arbitrary age limits.

Sharon Rose Kootenay

Sharon Rose Kootenay, a textile artist whose storefront studio is located on the picturesque main street of Vilna, Alta., a village about 150 kilometres northeast of Edmonton, has a breathtaking perspective on ageism. The idea that older artists could be dismissed or disparaged is foreign to her Métis and Cree heritage.

“It’s the opposite because in Indigenous culture we value elders so much,” she says.

Like many women, particularly those from minorities, Kootenay's artistic career began later in life. As a bright child growing up in a small town, she had to work twice as hard to be considered just as good.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of there to start a new life,” she says.

After finishing high school in the mid-1970s, she went straight to Edmonton’s MacEwan University (then a community college) to study mathematics. Her art journey started when she became a mother and taught herself to bead.

“I wanted my daughter to have a strong sense of identity,” she says. “Culture was the best way to achieve that.”

In those days, Kootenay didn’t have much spare time. She had earned a diploma as a library technician and went on to build a career as a librarian and fund developer for the Alberta Native Friendship Centres Association. Later, she started an Indigenous arts organization that ran cultural retreats and mentored women and youth in sewing, beading and quill work – traditions she views as indistinguishable from high art.

“In previous times, people would communicate to the sacred through beadwork, through geometric design,” she explains. “It was a source of power.”

Over the years, Kootenay shared her art in group exhibitions, but it was only in her mid-fifties that she realized she wanted to say more.

“It was the ability to tell the story I wanted to tell that was the turning point for me,” she says.

Her first solo show, Manitohkewin: Sacred Power Made Visible, was held at the Alberta Craft Council in Edmonton in 2020.

Every piece she has produced since then is as thematically intricate as the myriad beads she uses. Ancestral teachings, pop culture, great works of literature and other influences are woven through her work.

“To be an older artist is better. You have the wisdom, you have the technical experience, and you have time.”

– Sharon Rose Kootenay

For Kootenay, to be an artist is to explore whatever crosses your path.

“My favourite artists are seekers,” she says. “They express their soul, something that impacted them.”

Although Kootenay is a rising artist in Alberta, she sees herself foremost as a community builder.

“I am not competing,” she says. “I am a mentoring artist.”

Her advice to aspiring artists from cultures where elders are less valued?

“To be an older artist is better,” she says. “You have the wisdom, you have the technical experience, and you have time.”

“When you are young, you want to achieve fame or fortune. But as a senior artist, it’s the act of making and creating something that’s the reward.”

Lynn Christine Kelly

Lynn Christine Kelly, a multimedia artist who recently relocated to Calgary from Toronto, was prepared for whatever discrimination the art world might throw at her. 

“I have been breaking the rules for a very long time,” says Kelly, who used to work in the male-dominated construction industry.

She had entered the British Columbia Institute of Technology in Vancouver at 19 as one of a handful of women in its building construction program and loved her subsequent jobs.

“I worked my way up to be a chief estimator in one of the top companies in Toronto,” says Kelly. “I worked on everything from schools and civic buildings to high-end offices, condominiums, bridges and tunnels.”

At the apex of her career, she opened her own company. Then, without regret, she changed her life.

The transition began with an evening watercolour class. Kelly’s colleagues, accustomed to seeing her burn the midnight oil, questioned what she was doing.

“Stress reduction,” she replied.

She enrolled as a full-time student at what was then the Ontario College of Art and Design. In some ways, she had it easier than her younger counterparts. She had no problem meeting deadlines after her high-stakes career and no financial worries, unlike one of her classmates who slept in his studio. 

But at the start of term, an instructor asked: “What are you doing here? Are you one of those divorce divas?”

Women who started art school as mature students were routinely dismissed as hobbyists.

Yet, the older students Kelly met were serious.

“Most mature students can’t afford to be there just to fool around,” she says. “We have many responsibilities. If we are doing something like that, it’s a big deal.”

“Once you have lived a little bit, you can make art about things that matter to you and not about what you are told should matter.”

– Lynn Christine Kelly

Kelly recalls another incident.

“I was working away on a print one day and the guy beside me was working on his,” she says. His girlfriend dropped by and glanced admiringly at Kelly’s work. The young man remarked: “Yeah, well, old people have lived a lot, you know, they have stories to tell.” Kelly was in her mid-forties at the time.

Such comments didn’t hold Kelly back – she had witnessed far worse in the construction industry. She went on to earn her MFA at the Chelsea College of Arts in London and has since built a name for herself with public art commissions. Most of all, she has developed a powerful artistic vision that revolves around trees, human life and the potential for growth.

When she hears people fawning over some hot young artist, she sometimes gets discouraged. Then she recalls her classmate’s tactless comment.

“It’s true, we have more of a story to tell,” she says. “Once you have lived a little bit, you can make art about things that matter to you and not about what you are told should matter.”

Leslie Hossack

Given Leslie Hossack’s long list of exhibitions, books and awards, it’s hard to believe her art career began only when she retired after 30 years in the public school system. It’s even more remarkable when you realize each of her photography projects requires months of travel and research.

Hossack had no time to explore photography when she was younger. As a parent and a teacher, and then a principal, she was too busy. 

“When I retired, I bought a camera and thought ‘this is very cool’,” she says. “So, I became a diligent hobbyist.” 

Before long, she knew photography would become more than a hobby. She recalls thinking: “This is what I want to do. This is who I am. This is what I want to become.”

Her previous career gave her some advantages.

“You know your limitations and you know that there are many ways to learn something,” she says.

Instead of heading back to university, she found a mentor at the School of the Photographic Arts in Ottawa, her home city. But mainly, she taught herself.

Avoiding academia may have helped her dodge blatant age discrimination. Perhaps her mentor valued students of all ages. Or, perhaps, it was sheer luck. But, as Hossack says: “If I have experienced ageism, I either didn’t notice or didn’t care.”

Her unflinching resolve to forge her own path and seek only internal validation imbues her photographs with haunting originality.

She has photographed Second World War landscapes and the camps where Japanese Canadians were interned, as well as scenes that evoke Moscow in the 1950s, choosing camera angles that eliminate things like cars, bustling restaurants and children playing. For her interior photographs, she rearranges furniture and removes knickknacks so nothing distracts from her intent. Her images are eerily silent – it’s as if time is standing still.

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Leslie Hossack, "Italian Dining Room, House of Nations, 1936 Olympic Village, Berlin," 2010

Leslie Hossack, "Italian Dining Room, House of Nations, 1936 Olympic Village, Berlin," 2010

pigment on cotton rag, 17" x 22" (from the series "National Socialist Architecture, 1933-1945," edition of five; private collections and Center for Creative Photography, Tuscon, Arizona; courtesy the artist)

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Leslie Hossack, "City Hall, Moscow," 2012

Leslie Hossack, "City Hall, Moscow," 2012

pigment on cotton rag, 17" x 22" (from the series "Stalin's Architectural Legacy," edition of five; private collections and Commotion Digital Gallery, Vancouver)

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Leslie Hossack, "Fortified Position, Summit of Mount Golesh, Kosovo," 2013

Leslie Hossack, "Fortified Position, Summit of Mount Golesh, Kosovo," 2013

pigment on cotton rag, 36" x 54" (created while the artist was deployed with the Canadian Forces Artists Program; Canadian War Museum collection; courtesy the artist)

Hossack’s achievements haven’t blinded her to the existence of discrimination. In education, a field dominated by women, she was one of the few female elementary school principals in the 1970s.

“I spent a great deal of time trying to combat blatant and systemic sexism,” she says. “I am very aware of how the world works. I am not a Pollyanna and uninformed.”

But Hossack doesn’t believe age should hold you back – after all, each of us has something to offer.

“Time waits for no one, no favours has he 

Time waits for no one, and he won’t wait for me.”

– Mick Jagger

Each day brings us closer to old age. Will our later lives be filled with patronizing remarks so pervasive that – like sexism in earlier times – they are almost invisible? Could we learn from the age-affirming traditions of Indigenous cultures? Perhaps we should all aspire to be respected elders rather than chafe at the irrelevancy bequeathed by a consumerist society obsessed with youth culture.

The recent public furore over the forced departure of CTV National News chief anchor Lisa LaFlamme – particularly after news reports suggested management was unhappy the 58-year-old had let her hair go grey during the pandemic – may help fuel a much-needed attitude shift in mainstream culture.

To galvanize a similar change in the art world, we need to hear more stories about artists who successfully embrace the creative potential of aging. ■

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