Aloïse Sauthier

Anne Boleyn by an unknown artist, late 16th century via the National Portrait Gallery.

Anne Boleyn is a figure in history whose reputation seems to precede her. Once queen of England, her life and role in the Tudor court catapulted her into common knowledge. If you were to ask a random person to tell you something about Anne Boleyn, chances are they will think of a commonplace, 500-year-old rumour. “She had six fingers, didn’t she?” Actually - she didn’t. Here are three major rumours about Anne Boleyn, debunked. 

She Was a Witch

A.Boleyn (Anne Boleyn) 1854-1860, Richard Burchett (circle of) via the Parliamentary Art Collection. 

Probably the most well-known rumour about Anne Boleyn is that she was a witch; the infamous proof for this being that she had six fingers on her right hand. What often gets overlooked with this rumour is that its origins are from after Anne had died. 

In 1585, Anne’s only surviving child with Henry VIII, Elizabeth I, was queen. This was also the year that a Catholic priest named Nicholas Sander wrote in his book titled Rise and Growth of the Anglican Schism, that “[Anne] had a projecting tooth under the upper lip, and on her right hand six fingers.” Sander’s publication and claims about Anne Boleyn and her witchy attributes is the most notable starting point of this rumour, but it was not written under the influence of truth. Religious circumstances are what motivated Sander, who, as a Catholic, was not in favour of the Protestant Elizabeth I ruling over him. He hated her, and he hated her mother Anne, whom he blamed for England broke away from Roman Catholicism. If Anne hadn’t come onto the scene, Henry might never have gone through what is described as the ‘King’s Great Matter’ and kept England as a Catholic country. This is what angered Sander, and so he set out to smear Anne’s reputation, to try and dismantle Elizabeth’s power and legitimacy as a queen. 

Elizabeth I by Nicholas Hilliard (school of), 1590 via Jesus College, University of Oxford.

Somehow, the lies of one man leaked into common belief as fact, hundreds of years after his book was published. This rumour can easily be disregarded when thinking about it in context of the time. In the Middle Ages, being found guilty of witchcraft could result in being burned at the stake; any signs of sorcery were taken very seriously. If Anne truly had six fingers, she would never have even been employed as one of Katherine of Aragon’s ladies in waiting; let alone go on to marry the king of England. An additional finger, as well as the aforementioned ‘projecting tooth’, would have been regarded at the very least as deformities, and would have prevented her from advancing anywhere near as far as she did in court. 

It’s a rumour that has sadly stuck by Anne for as long as she has been remembered. But it is a false one and has been officially discredited by highly regarded Tudor historians and writers since it came to exist. There is also no evidence from the time when Anne was alive and queen that proved or even suggested that the rumours were true, which alone should be enough to discredit it. As for Nicholas Sander, he never knew Anne Boleyn, and would have been only six years old when she died. 

2. She Demanded to Be Queen 

Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn by William Hogarth, 1728/9 via the Royal Academy of Arts.

Another belief held about Anne Boleyn is that she was essentially a homewrecker, seeking out the married Henry VIII and seducing him for her own political gain. She was painted as power-hungry, with claims that she refused his attempted seduction unless he divorced Katharine and made her queen instead. 

The truth of the courtship between Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII is less about a woman seeking power at whatever cost, and more about a powerful man refusing to take no for an answer. Henry sent many letters to Anne, where he expresses his love, desire, and his refusal to give up on gaining her affections. Anne had to be careful in how she handled the situation she found herself in, as offending the king had dire consequences. Henry was the one who relentlessly pursued her for years, whilst still married to Katharine of Aragon. Somehow though, Anne is the scapegoat for the decay of Henry’s relationship with Katherine, and not the man responsible himself. 

An important detail to frame Anne and Henry’s relationship with is that Anne wasn’t the first Boleyn daughter to have caught the eye of Henry VIII. In fact, her older sister Mary Boleyn had previously been Henry’s mistress. Whilst it is not known exactly when their alleged affair began, or for how long it lasted, it is known that Henry attended Mary’s wedding to William Carey, in February 1520. It is also commonly suggested that Henry was the father of Mary’s two children, but the king never acknowledged them as his, unlike with another former mistress Elizabeth Blount, whose son Henry he officially recognised as his; earning him the name Henry FitzRoy. 

Mary Boleyn attributed to Remigius Van Leemput, 1630-70 via the Royal Collection. 

The fact that her own sister was once Henry’s mistress would have made Anne extra cautious when it became her that Henry set his sights on. She feared a similar fate of being a mere temporary source of entertainment for the king, to eventually be tossed aside at his pleasure. Whilst it became a rumour that Anne refused any relationship with Henry unless he made her queen, it is more likely that she was doing this to delay having to officially engage with the king. Again, when considering the reality of the situation, this is the more logical explanation. Divorce was not something done commonly, if at all, in Tudor times.  Would Anne have really expected her request to be Henry’s wife and queen of England to be taken seriously, or even be possible at all? Katherine was a royal-born Spanish princess, part of a powerful royal dynasty, and Anne was just a lady of English nobility. In terms of status, Katherine had quite a bit more than Anne. Anne wasn’t unaware of this and knew it would have been an unrealistic request for her to make of Henry. If she did refuse his advances unless he made her queen, it would have been more likely that he would simply forget about Anne and find an easier option. 

Anne’s initial refusal and hesitation to engage in any relationship with Henry VIII has been twisted to fit an ulterior narrative; to frame Anne as scheming and power obsessed. It is not an unheard-of phenomenon of independently minded women having their intentions misrepresented to undermine them. Unfortunately for Anne, this reality plagued the latter half of her life, when it seemed everyone was out to get rid of her.   

3. She Was Horrible to Princess Mary 

Mary I by Master John, 1544 via the National Portrait Gallery. 

It is reported frequently that when Anne Boleyn was finally made queen, she was a stereotypical evil stepmother towards Mary Tudor, Henry’s daughter with Katherine of Aragon. Whilst it would be wrong to say there was no tension between Anne and Mary, the blame for this does not sit solely with Anne, and there is evidence to show that Anne did try to reach out to Mary and reconcile their relationship. Sadly, the idea of the evil-stepmother seems more interesting, and so the lies between the rumour and reality become blurred.    The political, social, and religious effects from Henry’s divorce from Katharine of Aragon were felt far and wide. For some, its effects were felt harder than others, as it completely changed the life of Mary Tudor. Mary, like her mother – and up until the divorce, her father too, was very passionate about and dedicated to the Roman Catholic church. She believed in the notion that royals were chosen by God to rule on earth, and that this was something no humans could intervene with. She believed absolutely in her mother’s place as queen of England, and that it was a title that was given to her from divinity. As a princess, Mary was also chosen by God to follow in her parents' footsteps as sovereign. However, this worldview that she had had ingrained in her since birth was turned upside down when Anne Boleyn arrived into her life. 

Detail of The Trial of Queen Catherine of Aragon by Baron Henry Nelson O’Neil, 1848 via the Birmingham Museum Trust. 

Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn were married on the 25th of January 1533. It was from here that Mary was declared illegitimate, lost her succession rights, and was forbidden from seeing her mother. When Elizabeth Tudor was born in September 1533, the situation worsened, with Mary being forced to recognise her half-sister as princess and wait on her as if she were a servant. Mary was angry, upset, confused and betrayed, and became very ill because of the stress her new life was bringing her. A lot of this is blamed on the way Anne Boleyn treated Mary as her stepdaughter. An example being that during a visit to her daughter Elizabeth at Hatfield House in 1534, where Elizabeth and Mary were both staying, Anne reportedly demanded that Mary come and ‘honour her as Queen.’ Mary agreed to see her; but refused to recognise her as queen. The only queen to Mary was her mother.  

The fact is that their relationship was never exactly going to be easy or harmonious. Yes, Anne may have been harsh or forceful towards Mary at times. But Mary was her father’s daughter, inheriting his stubbornness and determination. Her total refusal to even try and get along with Anne, despite attempts at reconciliation from the latter, naturally was frustrating to Anne, and can explain why she would at times be unfair towards her stepdaughter. However, Mary’s misery was truly in the hands of her father, who had referred to Mary as his “greatest enemy.” He was the king, and he was the one calling the shots when it came to Mary’s life after his divorce from her mother, yet Anne Boleyn is vilified as the evil stepmother who was Henry VIII’s puppet master. 

  Hatfield House by Charles Wilkinson c. 1890, via Look and Learn.

Most of what we know about Mary’s life in these years comes from the writings of Charles V’s ambassador to England, Eustace Chapuys. He was a firm supporter of both Katherine of Aragon and Mary and did not accept Henry’s divorce and subsequent remarriage to Anne Boleyn. The allegiances of Chapuys are clear. He is said to have despised Anne and refused to even say her name. So, to take his records of the relationship between Anne and Mary as the impartial truth would be naïve. Any chance to undermine, discredit and tarnish Anne and her reputation would have been taken by Chapuys, with honesty not being the priority of his writings.  

Anne Boleyn and Mary Tudor’s relationship was one that was arguably doomed from the start. A young princess having her mother, status, and privileges snatched away was not going to take kindly to the woman who to her was totally responsible. They were both to blame for their poor relationship, but what unites them is that they were both victims of Henry and his tyrannical ways. Henry eventually sent Anne to her death in 1536, and his relationship with Mary scarcely improved afterwards, showing that he was the true problem all along. Neither Mary nor Anne got what they deserved, and they both suffered due to Henry VIII. 

The Hever Rose portrait of Anne Boleyn, 1550 via Hever Castle.

Anne of Cleves by Hans Holbein the Younger, 1539 via the Louvre. 

The marriage turned annulment of Anne of Cleves and Henry VIII, as hundreds of years have gone by, has been come to be known simply as the marriage that ended because Anne was too ugly for Henry. But this narrative cuts out a huge amount of detail, and the reality of the circumstances surrounding Anne and Henry’s brief marriage is much more complex than simple unattraction. 

The Family of Henry VIII, featuring Jane Seymour  via the Royal Collection Trust.

Anne of Cleves was to be the fourth wife of Henry VIII. Whilst Henry was married to his third wife, Jane Seymour, the idea of a new bride wasn’t at all on his mind. Jane had been able to give him the greatest thing of all: a son. It is because of this that many believe Jane Seymour was Henry’s favourite wife. 

Edward Tudor was born on the 12th of October 1537, and with his arrival, Jane made Henry’s dreams come true; finally, he had an heir for the throne of England. Sadly, this was not to be fairytale ending for the royal couple, as 12 days after Edward was born, Jane died due to complications from the birth. Henry was distraught; he was now, once again, without a queen - and had only one male heir. Everyone knew that having only one son was not enough; a king needed an heir and a ‘spare’ (Henry himself had been his father’s spare.) Despite his grief, Henry needed a new queen who could give him another son. 

Anne of Cleves was not Henry’s first choice for wife number four. Henry sent his court painter, Hans Holbein the Younger, across Europe to paint eligible princesses that had taken his fancy. One princess Henry set his sights on was Christina of Denmark. However, she was not in favour of the match, and reportedly said "If I had two heads, I would happily put one at the disposal of the King of England." It seemed that Henry’s ease at beheading his former queen Anne Boleyn was frightening the princesses of Europe off, with good reason. Despite Henry’s desires, it was advised by Thomas Wriothesley, the English diplomat in Brussels, that Henry should ‘fix his most noble stomach in some such other place.’ 

Christina of Denmark by Hans Holbein the Younger via the National Gallery.

It was up to Thomas Cromwell, Henry’s chief minister and right-hand man, to turn the king’s mind – and heart – elsewhere. Cromwell’s search for a new queen of England had a pressing political motivation. Overseas, Holy Roman Emperor Charles V and Francis I of France seemed to be getting along better than usual, which was bad news for England. Cromwell knew England needed support in case the worst happened, and the new enemies-turned-allies Charles and Francis decided to wage war on England, their mutual enemy.

Thomas Cromwell sought out Protestant allies that could help England if they found themselves at war. This is where Cromwell came to suggest that Henry consider the daughters of the Duke of Cleves, Anne and Amelia. The Duke of Cleves was no stranger to feeling friction with Charles V, and their display of standing up to the Holy Roman Empire is what solidified them as a logical and strong alliance for England to have. 

First, Henry sent over an ambassador to Germany to see Anne and her sister Amelia, and to discuss what the terms of a proposed marriage would be. The report brought back from diplomat Christopher Mont was positive enough to convince Henry to send Holbein over to paint the two daughters for Henry to see for himself what they looked like – it was not enough for him to hear of others recounting of how beautiful the princesses were – Henry needed to make his own mind up. Whether or not Cromwell had instructed Mont behind the king’s back to talk highly of the daughters’ beauty and promote the idea of an alliance with the Cleves family to Henry is debated, but is not an impossibility. Henry was presented with Holbein's portraits and was totally enamoured with Anne’s. No time was wasted, and plans for the marriage were set in motion. The final agreed-upon details were written up in a treaty, which was signed on October 4th, 1539. 

Rochester Castle in the 19th Century, by Bertram Nicholls via ArtUK. 

It was time for Anne to head to her new home; a strange, foreign land, with a language she did not speak. She had a long and tumultuous journey to England, but she finally arrived in Deal, Kent, on the 27th of December 1539. Anne journeyed through England towards London and was expecting to meet Henry on January 3rd. On January 1st, she was resting at Rochester Castle, when she received some unexpected visitors.  

Henry had arrived at Rochester Castle early to surprise Anne. There was a chivalric tradition popular in elite circles where a princess has an unexpected meeting with a young man who she instantly falls in love with, for her to discover later that he was really a prince in disguise – or in this case, a king. Henry appeared in Anne’s room, wearing a cloak and mask to disguise himself. Anne was alone, quietly looking out of her window, when suddenly Henry approached her and gave her a kiss. Anne, who was not familiar with this tradition, did not realise it was really her betrothed in disguise. Naturally, she did not react well to the masked stranger kissing her in her room. She said nothing and turned away from her admirer in a state of embarrassment. Henry, who believed he was a handsome man, was mortified at Anne’s rejection. Did she not realise a king when she saw one? Clearly, their love was not meant to be. 

Henry hastily left to change into his regal attire and returned to Anne’s room. She recognised him this time and was respectful and courteous towards him. Unfortunately, the damage was done. Henry’s ego was hurt, and this couldn’t be undone. He left the room and is said to have proclaimed ‘I like her not.’  

Thomas Cromwell via the National Portrait Gallery.

Henry pleaded with Thomas Cromwell to find a way out of the marriage and to send Anne back to Germany. He tried to blame Anne’s appearance for his dissatisfaction, claiming she was ‘nothing as well as she was spoken of’ and it was so bad that he simply couldn’t marry her. There is no record of anyone saying anything negative about Anne’s appearance prior to this, and Henry himself couldn’t deny she wasn’t that hideous, reportedly admitting she was ‘well and seemly.’ It is most likely Henry was motivated by his own embarrassment, after the failure of their first meeting, to alter the narrative to frame Anne as the one who was undesirable. The sensitive nature and its urgency placed a lot of pressure on Cromwell to get Henry out of the wedding. Unfortunately, there was no feasible solution to call off the marriage that wouldn’t subsequently offend Anne’s brother, the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg, and inspire thoughts of retaliation through war - exactly what was trying to be avoided with Anne and Henry’s wedding in the first place. Cromwell ran out of time and there was no way out, so the wedding went ahead as planned. 

Henry and Anne were married on the 6th of January 1540 at the royal Palace of Placentia in Greenwich. It is reported that Henry said to Cromwell on the way to the chapel that ‘If it were not to satisfy the world and my realm, I would not do that I must do this day for none earthly thing.’ As the day ended and the newly-weds retired to their bedchamber, it all started to go very wrong very quickly. 

Henry VIII in 1540 via the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica.

Henry was very open in his retelling of events in the bedroom with his new queen. The problem was the lack of events occurring at all. Henry tried for several nights to consummate the marriage, but to no avail. Again, the blame for this was placed entirely on Anne’s shoulders. Henry could not possibly be the reason for the lack of success, despite being twice Anne’s age and riddled with health problems that by this time were most likely causing unpleasant odours – it was all Anne's fault.  

The repeated attempts to try and make the marriage work with Anne eventually started to bore Henry, as it became plainly obvious this union was not one to last. Then, in March 1539, Anne received a new lady in her household, named Catherine Howard. When Henry first set his eyes on her, the impetus to get rid of Anne gained a new momentum. 

Henry was not discreet when it came to his feelings of attraction towards Catherine, and Anne herself was also noticing his clear attraction to her. His ministers knew that they needed to free him from his marriage to Anne as quickly and gracefully as possible; Henry wasn’t one to wait patiently, and the longer he had to endure the situation the angrier he would get.  

Portrait of a Young Woman, believed to be Catherine Howard, via the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

Then, on the 24th of June 1540, Anne was sent to Richmond Palace in Surrey. Henry told her there was worry of plague in the city, and it was recommended that she leave Westminster and retreat to the much more rural Richmond. There was promise of Henry joining Anne there soon after, but the royal couple were not to see each other as husband and wife again. Considering that we know Henry himself was terrified of illness, had there been any actual threat of plague, Henry would not have stayed in London as he did. Unsurprisingly, on the 6th of July, Anne was informed of Henry’s intentions to annul their marriage. Anne accepted the annulment without much fuss, which was the smartest thing she could have done. We can never know how Anne truly felt about Henry, and if she was more sad or relieved when their attempt at a marriage ended, but the way she responded would ensure her safety and comfort for the rest of her life, which is a lot better than can be said about the fate of some of his other wives. 

On the 12th of July 1540, the official announcement was made that the marriage of Anne of Cleves and Henry VIII had been annulled. Henry was not one to waste time, and was married to Catherine Howard on the 28th of July 1540.  

As Anne was amenable during the annulment process, Henry was very generous and kind towards her in the years that followed, perhaps as a way of showing his gratitude for Anne’s acceptance of the annulment and making things a lot easier for him than they had been before. 

Richmond Palace from across the Thames, c.1562 via Ashmolean Museum. 

Anne received a lavish settlement that included Richmond Palace and Hever Castle – former residence of the Boleyns – as well as earning herself the status of the ‘King’s Beloved Sister’, and held rank above all the women in England, excluding Henry’s daughters and any future wives. Considering the bitter ends that the rest of his wives met, Anne’s life was considerably better. She was often invited to court and maintained pleasant relations with Henry. The sad irony was that for Catherine Howard, her life after her marriage to Henry very quickly deteriorated, and she became victim to Henry’s axe on February the 13th, 1541. Anne had successfully managed to survive her time with Henry VIII – a fate that Catherine – as well as Thomas Cromwell - could only have dreamt of. 

Henry was not just going to let things go and move forward graciously from all that had happened. He had been poorly advised to pursue a marriage that ended up causing him a lot of stress and embarrassment, and someone had to pay the price for it, and it wasn't long before the finger was pointing at Cromwell. As the feared alliance between Charles V and Francis I failed to materialise into anything worth worrying about, the reasoning for forming a protective alliance with Cleves that Cromwell had pushed on Henry had now become redundant. This made things much worse for Cromwell; he had put the king through a humiliating ordeal for a purpose that didn’t exist. It wasn’t helped that all of those involved in the marriage negotiations, including Thomas Wriothesley, saw Cromwell’s weakening status, and took their chance to absolve themselves of blame by using Cromwell as their scapegoat, and so on the 10th of June 1540 Cromwell was arrested in Westminster. His execution was delayed by Henry until his annulment to Anne was complete, and after that, as we know, Henry wasn’t one to waste time. Cromwell was publicly executed on Tower Hill on the 28th of July 1540 – whilst Henry was happily enjoying his wedding day to Catherine Howard. 

Anne of Cleves by Bartholomaeus Bruyn the elder via St. John’s College, Oxford. 

When I completed my Art History & Visual Culture degree, I wondered what the future looked like in regards to further learning and educational experiences in the museum sector - I had three years worth of art history theory behind me, but wanted to engage more into the practical side of museums and curating.

The meetings with my fellow curators were always enlightening, interesting and insightful. We also had regular guest speakers, so there was a lot of rich conversation. I personally found the role of curators in communities very interesting and relevant to galleries in Cornwall, and seeing who it is that curators are doing their work for. It helped me reflect on the responsibilities that museums and galleries have to their communities. Cornwall has very contrasting levels of social classes, from those who holiday in their million pound second homes, to those living in some of the most deprived neighbourhoods in the whole country (In 2015, 44 Cornish neighbourhoods were in the 20% most deprived in England), meaning museums and galleries down here have a lot of responsibility to the local community. It is important for locals to have somewhere to go in their town that is for them and they can identify with, but also for tourists to learn more about Cornwall’s rich history beyond the beaches, which to me would only enrich their holiday experience. This showed me how the role of curator extends way beyond the gallery walls, and actually takes on a social responsibility to how the audiences receive their work, something I hadn’t considered before.

The theme of research with Penlee House was ‘Decolonising and telling the stories of marginalised people’, something very important and necessary for all museums to partake in, to give an authentic and genuine account of all people’s histories, no matter where they’re from.

Through regular meetings with the other members of the Penlee House group, we all had great brainstorms and discussions about what it means to decolonise exhibitions and artefacts. I decided to look through Penlee House’s collection, and see what stood out to me as something I might want to research the specific history of. I found Laura Knight’s painting Juanita, and was instantly drawn to it. As the painting is a depiction of a black child, I thought this painting was a good place to start and dive into the history of who the girl in the painting is, and how Knight came to paint her.

Upcoming at Penlee House was Laura Knight: A Celebration, and so Katie Herbert, the curator, amazingly asked if I would like to write some gallery labels to go alongside Juanita, and an accompanying painting Portrait of Pearl Johnson. I went to see it in person and couldn’t quite believe I was looking at my words on a museum wall! It really did reignite a passion in me to pursue my dream of working in curating for my career, whether it be writing pieces to go alongside works, or even my big dream of curating my own show one day, I feel ready and eager to work for it.  

Photos by me, featuring Juanita and Portrait of Pearl Johnson, with my labels on either side. 2021.

Bibliography

Whittaker, Linda. “Cornwall’s Vital Issues 2017”, Cornwall Community Foundation. https://www.cornwallcommunityfoundation.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Cornwalls-Vital-Issues-2017-Final-2.pdf. 2017.

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye. The Generosity, 2010. Oil on canvas, 180 cm x 200cm. Tate Britain, London.

I had been here a while. I thought so anyway. Zoning in and out of consciousness inhibited my ability to tell. Memories were starting to mesh into my reality, and the line between the two was becoming increasingly distorted. I longed for my memories to be my reality again.

It was cold, but the air was still. Eerily quiet, an atmosphere that both made me wish to hear a voice and simultaneously dread that I would hear one. It had been such a long time since I had heard one, I wasn’t too sure I’d even be able to tell what a voice would sound like. The only way I knew I was not deaf was from hearing disturbance in the shrubbery from remaining wildlife. This was how I found food to hunt. I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long. Pure human nature was willing me to survive, for any purpose derived from life itself has faded away with the people I loved.

All I had for warmth was fur and leaves. I would layer the leaves to create something of a mattress on the dirt and use the fur to warm areas that were the coldest, mostly my feet. I have always had cold feet. I wore socks when I went to sleep in my old bed. I didn’t have any now. This was the only way I was aware of how much time had passed. My clothes had ebbed away, not being able to stand up to the wild gales, fierce thunderstorms, and relentless rain I endured. There was no longer any barrier between my skin and the earth beneath me. I was slowly becoming one with her. I hadn’t stayed in one place this long, and my energy was draining. I was accepting of the end, as it approached.  

I then heard the familiar creaks. I kept my eyes closed, but my body sensed I was not alone. I hesitantly opened my eyes and was struck by the appearance of two people. Dressed in underwear, they looked young and healthy. I think I looked like that once. I thought the first time I saw people again would be terrifying, but there was a calm aura radiating from the figures. They looked upon me with pity. I knew I was fading away, and their looks reinforced this. They could have killed me instantly; I would have not put up a fight. But they didn’t. They started to move slowly, and I realised they were removing their socks. Not a word was exchanged. They handed me the socks and left without a sound. I mustered up all my remaining energy and put a pair on my feet, and a pair on my hands. I curled up like a newborn baby and let myself fade away. I knew I had a smile on my face for the first time in a long time, as I found myself appreciating the innate generosity of humans.  

Art and visual culture was and is a huge way in which activism for AIDS spread.  Some art considered now as AIDS activism did not necessarily originate as such; however, in the nature of it capturing and depicting people in the queer community, it inherently became ‘activism’ in the way it brought those affected by the syndrome to light. AIDS was first referred to as Gay-Related Immune Deficiency (GRID), highlighting its assumed inherent and exclusive connection to the queer community. Consequently, AIDS activism became entangled with any art involving the queer community, any depiction of a queer person would unavoidably have a connection to AIDS - either those depicted may be ill or knew someone who was. AIDS activism was therefore a huge part of queer art. 

AIDS/HIV is anything but an easy part of human life to navigate. However, ignorance of its existence is anything but productive. Problems in life need to be faced head on, no matter how difficult they may be. Of course, not all artists focused on the same elements of AIDS, or in the same tone. Some felt that the best way to draw attention to the condition was by showing the dark side of AIDS, showcasing photography and artwork that illustrated how violent and destructive it could be. By showing how devastating it was, artists hoped to attract the attention of the government and the wider public to take this ‘gay disease’ seriously. Different approaches however felt the priority should be to show those affected by AIDS as normal people, undefined by their diagnosis. They wanted to show that they weren’t their syndromes or illnesses, nor their sexuality, but they were average people with personalities, hobbies, and intricate valuable lives, who needed to be taken seriously and not just pitied or ignored. Whilst there may be differences between what and how feelings surrounding AIDS/HIV are expressed, the main unifying message comes through that this illness is not something to hide from, and that progress will only occur if those affected are given the chance to have their voices and stories heard. 

A prominent figure in the queer art community was Nan Goldin, whose photography documents many elements of her life in and around New York City, including domestic abuse, drug use, and the queer community, of whom she referred to as her ‘family.’ A lot of her work brought light to those affected by AIDS and HIV, as the queer community was one of her many muses. As the crisis swept the world, she was photographing it happen as it affected many people close to her. She said of her work ‘It is very important for me to trace people’s histories before I lose them.’ Her documentary photography of what was happening to the people around her living with AIDS became politically charged, and part of the growing activism. The raw, untouched images of her friends and family showed them through the lens of reality. Because she herself was a part of the community, there was no wall between her and the subjects, giving her a unique closeness that many other photographers would not have had, adding an element of intimacy to her photographs. The account came from within the community, rather than from an outsider who would not have had the same level of understanding or empathy as Goldin did. One example of her work is Gilles in his hospital bed. This photograph is an example of AIDS activism in which the harsh reality of the crisis is forced to be acknowledged. This photo amongst many of Goldin’s makes it unavoidable to understand that the victims are real people with real lives, and not just numbers or statistics mentioned in fine print by the media. In this way, art and visual culture works is essential in AIDS activism by awakening people’s basic empathy levels. It is arguably impossible for any compassionate person to look at this photograph of Goldin’s friend, someone near and dear to her, in his hospital bed; weak, frail, and alone, and not put aside any preconception they may have had about the AIDS crisis, and feel that it should be taken more seriously, and with human sensitivity. It is in this way that a lot of art may not have originated as intentional pieces of activism; in this example with Goldin, it was the act of her capturing her community so they would remain immortal through her photographs and not be forgotten. The photo itself is striking and moving. The different coloured light illuminating Gilles’ body have an eerie, quiet atmosphere, spilling over his frail, skinny frame and finding its way around every angle of his skeleton. His helpless expression is juxtaposed by the photograph of the child on the wall, which suggests that despite the crisis, there is hope for the future generations. The letters surrounding the photograph also reinforce the idea that whilst Gilles may be on the surface just a face of the crisis, he is actually his own individual person who is like anyone who has ever had to be in hospital; someone with family and friends who love and care about him and write to him. As Sarah Ruddy describes, ‘So afraid were Americans of AIDS that those with the disease were, and frequently are still, only represented as passive participants in space; effectively, they are always already dead. But Goldin shows her love for them, which makes her friends exist positively in the pictures, as well as her mourning of their loss, the presence of their disappearance. Goldin’s work creates a space where disappearance is made visible.’ This is true; whereby others represented those with AIDS in ways that virtually rendered them dead already, Goldin, by depicting the harsh reality, gave them faces, and allowed for their loss to be documented and exposed, rather than just swept under the rug. 

Similarly toned to Goldin’s photograph of Gilles, is Hugh Steers’ work Bath Curtain. Steers himself described his work as designed ‘to draw the viewer in through the lure of a comfortingly recognisable style and then confront him with a subject matter of a challenging nature.’ At first glance, Bath Curtain seems just as an intimate scene, but then looking in detail reveals an alternate reality. The harsh lines of both the bodies, mirrored by the namesake bath curtain, highlight the tone of the room, where the male couple ‘appear numbed and inconsolable as if shattered by devastating news.’ The striking colours, similar to those in Gilles in his hospital bed, add a surreal element to the work. Whilst it is on initial look an everyday scene, the harsh, bold colours along the distorted lines of the floor tiles and the curtain add a feeling of dizziness, distortion and disconnect to the painting, acting as a metaphor for exactly how the men are feeling in the instant captured; dizzy, as their lives are torn apart by AIDS. Steers shows a harsh reality of AIDS, much like Goldin’s work, to bring it to the forefront, as well as incorporating the familiar domestic environment in which everyone can relate to. Whilst Goldin’s Gilles in his hospital bed is moving and does without a doubt invoke empathy from viewers, Steers’ Bath Curtain has an added element of it being in a bathroom, a universally recognisable place. Bringing the experience of the AIDS crisis out of an exclusively medical environment, such as the hospital, literally brings the issue home. It shows how this artwork by Steers is deployed in AIDS activism. It brings it home, into the very intimate room of the bathroom, which could be in any house, emphasising how important it is to take the crisis seriously; it was the reality and part of the daily lives of so many people. The painting also highlights the feeling of loneliness that AIDS brings. Whilst it is a couple depicted, we cannot see the face of either man, with the figure in the bath having their face also hidden from their partner, illustrating the strain of a positive AIDS diagnosis and the wedge it drives between people who love each other. Filip Noterdame summarises ‘Steers’ intimate domestic scenes express a poignant emotional reality of a time when love and death were inextricably linked for gay men.’ This is exemplified by the gesture by the two men in the painting, who are obviously in a position of love and care for one another, a fact which is both proven and strained by the looming ending of death. It has its place in AIDS activism in bringing light to the truthful, hard to swallow reality of AIDS from within the community itself. Not only is it the queer community as a whole being heard and putting their stories forward, but this is happening at an especially crucial time for the queer community, summed up; ‘AIDS is not an individual agony…but a social calamity affecting an entire culture.’ This is reinforced by Steers’ painting again by the anonymity and universality of both the setting, and the figures. These could be any men, in any bathroom, and equally, they also represent many men, in many bathrooms. They represent a generation of people lost to the illness. They all needed to be heard and helped, and AIDS needed to be taken seriously. There was tremendous loss which was mostly owed to ignorance and prejudice.  

Whilst showcasing the frightening and difficult reality of AIDS, as seen through work by Goldin and Steers, other artwork in AIDS activism takes a different angle and is not as confrontational, yet still vital in activism. One example of this is Sunil Gupta’s series of photographs called Lovers: Ten Years On, looking specifically at Roger and Steve, London. This stark contrast in tone to both Goldin and Steers’ work shows the wide variety of experiences that people in the queer community had simultaneously, and how they wanted to express it. All the couples in the series, including Roger and Steve, are positioned in such a way of a traditional domestic photograph; there are many symbolic elements that reference classic, typically Victorian photographs of couples, usually heterosexual, and family portraits. Having one person stood behind the other, and in this case having a cat sat on lap, a place usually in a heteronormative photograph a child would sit, framing the cat as their child, is a heart-warming way to see gay couples, who would usually be either hyper-sexualised, or just completely absent from artistic canon. Gupta’s take on photographing homosexual couples is refreshing. Most of the men in this project would sadly later pass away due to AIDS related illnesses, however, this is not what defines them in these portraits. Gupta himself tested HIV positive, which adds another dimension to the portraits, he saw that one could draw attention to the AIDS crisis without necessarily focusing on the illness itself. The portrait series in this way is poignant and awakens a variety of conflicting emotions. By putting homosexual couples in a traditionally heterosexual situation, with many symbols in the portraits referencing heterosexuality, this eliminates the concept of homosexual couples as something alien and different to others. They are not just people who are affected by AIDS, their lives have meaning and importance beyond this. It also brings the reality of AIDS to the forefront. If homosexual couples can be seen as just regular couples living in regular homes, then AIDS is just another disease that needs as much help and focus to be eliminated as any other disease. It is in this way subtle AIDS activism, but just as powerful. As previously mentioned, there was an overwhelming fear in America surrounding AIDS; a general fear of the unknown stoked by homophobic mindsets. It seemed one of the most effective ways of AIDS activism, by simultaneously trying to normalise and bring acceptance to the queer community as whole, when the AIDS crisis was being used as ammunition and propaganda against gay people and their lifestyles, blaming them for getting AIDS and calling it a punishment from God, refusing to acknowledge it as a genuine disease that was not exclusive to the queer community. David Bergman suggests that ‘it will require tact to have AIDS be a disease “not caused by moral or intellectual choices” and to avoid becoming “a metaphor and metonym.” This tact can be seen in Gupta’s photograph series. A muted, tongue in cheek take on photographing gay couples in a traditionally heterosexual way works as a subconscious way for all audiences, whether part of the queer community or not, to relate to the photographs; a tactically smart and subtle way in which visual culture has been used in AIDS activism. 

Art and visual culture have played a huge part in pushing for attention to be paid to AIDS and those affected by the syndrome. Many different approaches evolved as to how shining a light onto the queer community and their experiences. Some, such as Goldin, took to documenting everything that they saw; originating as her capturing her friends as part of the community herself, the photos she took gained power at the height of the crisis due to their raw truth of what AIDS was capable of, becoming arguably an integral part of AIDS activism. Steers chilling and universal paintings, such as Bath Curtain, also showed the devastating reality to AIDS to the queer community, and reminded viewers that it could happen to anyone. Sunil Gupta’s Roger and Steve, London, is a different but just as poignant approach. The seemingly calm and simple photo is, upon closer look, full of symbolic imagery that contribute to a message of activism for the queer community and then in turn, activism for the AIDS crisis. The AIDS crisis was responsible for an extremely high level of death and destruction in the queer community, a feeling of devastation which is still very strongly felt today. But, the art and visual culture that emerged within these dark days, as well as the unique bond it created within the community, shows that no matter what trauma may impact a community, the unity and art that emerges both acts as a reminder not to forget where you’ve come from and what came before you in your communities’ history, also gives hope to a brighter future in which one day, what once was a reality never will be again. 

Nan Goldin. Gilles in his hospital bed, 1993. Photograph.

Hugh Steers. Bath Curtain, 1992. Oil on canvas, 182.73cm x 152.73cm. Alexander Gray Associates, New York.

St. Ives Cornwall, engraving, artist and date unknown.

I am so lucky to live in St.Ives! Somewhere so important on the global art stage, home to so many influential artists such as Dame Barbara Hepworth and Patrick Heron, and the town still has the unique small town magic to it despite being an extremely popular tourist destination. As it was such a refuge for artists (and still is) we’re blessed with so many impressions of the town through the years, which to me makes me feel closer to it and part of a wider important history.

Regatta, St. Michael’s Mount, oil on canvas, artist unknown. 1850.

Despite seeing St. Michael’s Mount very regularly for all my life, it is still so special to look at and I can’t not take photos of it whenever I’m near. One of my favourite views of the mount was from the Psychology classroom in college. This painting has such a dreamy feeling to it and just makes me want to run and jump into the water and soak up the sun.

Promenade, Penzance, watercolour on paper, artist unknown. 1930-1939.

I love the Promenade in Penzance so much. It’s one of the places I used to practice riding my bike when I was younger with my grandad. It’s a very nostalgic place, and the recent year it’s been under construction has been torture not being able to walk along it! This painting evokes the feeling of nostalgia to me despite the fact that it was hundreds of years ago and the version of the Promenade and Penzance that exists in the painting is very different to today, it still is home.

I love looking at old images and artworks of where I’ve grown up and seeing both things that have changed in time, but also things that despite being hundreds of years apart, are still very much the same; an essence of West Cornwall that is timeless.

Those who know me will know my favourite TV show is Breaking Bad. I watched it when I was supposed to be revising for my GCSEs (sorry mum) and since then have watched it God knows how many times. I am really interested and passionate about the level of detail and symbolism this show has; for my trivia obsessed brain, it is a goldmine. 

In the series, there is a painting that appears in a couple of episodes; Bit by a Dead Bee, (season 2, episode 3) and Gliding Over All (season 5a, episode 8.) The painting was commissioned specifically for the series, which for me proves it is a symbol that holds considerable meaning and relevance to the show. 

This is a screengrab of the painting taken from the scene where Walter White first sees the painting. It depicts a man in a rowboat sailing away from what appears to be his wife and children (and dog). It is first and foremost an overall metaphor for the story that is Breaking Bad; the man representing Walter leaving his family behind on dry land, as he sails out into the unknown world of being a methamphetamine kingpin.

Something I find important is that the action of rowing a boat is something that must be consciously done, a motion that has to be repeated in order to move forward. Quite often when reading online discussion forums for the show, I find many people defending Walter White and his various actions during the series, saying that he was doing it all for his family (an excuse Walter himself constantly uses throughout the series, even in an attempt to justify murder),  so it removes him of any blame, as if doing something for the good of other people absolves one of any blame or responsibility for the action. However, everything he did was a conscious decision, like moving a chess piece. As the series goes on, it becomes increasingly obvious that things he is doing ‘for his family’ are really done for himself, to propel him and his interests forward. He is an incredibly smart man, and it would be an insult to say he only did the things he did passively because he felt he had to. He had plenty of opportunities to stop and get out of the drug world, but he didn’t. He had too much pride and loved the power he had. He purposely drove himself away from his family, as the man in the painting purposely rows away from his family.

The colour of the sea in the painting is also strikingly blue. Looking at the colour of the sky, the dark and moody greys, browns and purple hues suggest stormy and tempestuous weather, yet the sea appears bright blue as if it was a sunny, calm day. The blue shade is almost identical to the colour of Walter White – or Heisenberg’s- signature product, his ‘Blue Sky’ methamphetamine. This adds to the idea of the man, Walter, rowing away into the unknown, being carried there by his Blue Sky meth. He is choosing his drug empire over his family, whether he chooses to admit it or not, and being carried away into an uncertain future by it. The contrasting weather shown from the sky and sea also alludes to the idea of Walter leading a double life, and the stark contrasts between the two worlds he straddles.

Walter first sees the painting in the hospital after recovering from a fugue state, which he admits to a therapist earlier before that he actually faked. He faked the fugue state after disappearing for a few days, caught up in trouble caused from his drug pursuits, so he could use it as an excuse for where he was to his family who do not know about his drug double life.

Walter seeing the painting in the hospital acts as a symbol of him leaving his family, both literally in his disappearance, but also as he gets more entangled in the drug world. It acts as a reminder to him and to the audience that he has never been in a ‘fugue’ state, he is consciously making decisions that drive – or row – him away from his family and normal life. He can lie all he wants to, but the truth is that all of his choices and conscious decisions have gotten him to this point, and will end up taking him much further, and the responsibility for this can only rest on his shoulders.

The second time Walter sees the painting is when he is with Jack Walker and his gang of Neo-Nazis, who are planning a series of coordinated prison murders, as requested by Walter. The scene shows Jack and his men discussing logistics of the operation, while in the background Walter is completely disconnected from the situation, as he is staring at the painting. Jack tries to talk to Walt about the plan, but Walt is completely immersed in the painting, and asks “Where do you suppose they come from? I’ve seen this one before. I wonder…are they all in some giant warehouse someplace?” Walt remembers seeing the painting in the hospital, over a year before, showing it clearly made an impact on him and the image, whether consciously or not, was imprinted on his mind. Considering how much has happened in the time between the two times he saw this painting, you wouldn’t think he would remember something potentially so trivial. Perhaps the last little bit of good; the old Walter White, sees himself and his journey represented by the image of this man in the painting departing from his family.

The use of lighting in this scene is interesting too, the darkness of the room aligning with the mood of a room of Neo-Nazis planning a mass prison murder, with the contrast of the painting which has a warm glow to it, which reflects onto Walter’s face. The glow suggests the goodness of his family and the life he had before he went down the path he chose, and the only good left in Walter is from his family. The chiaroscuro illuminates the sad truth that whilst there might still be some good left in Walter at this point, the darkness is slowly taking over, and will eventually eclipse the light.

There was an exceptional response, with over 2,000 postcards being sent out from the gallery across the world. The exhibition is composed of the 850+ different postcards that were returned, featuring a huge array of talent and creativity that is so wonderful to experience and see all in one room. 

Entering the space, you are immediately struck with the sheer quantity of pieces. Since the exhibition opened and I have been working there, I have witnessed people’s first reaction to the exhibition; and the most common thing I see is when people first walk through the doors is the pleasant surprise that shows across people’s faces at just how much there is to see. Many people who I have spoken to expressed that they didn’t quite expect such a huge quantity of work in one place, and it has been very common for visitors to come and view one wall at a time, as for some it is too much to take in and absorb in just one visit. There were once some visitors who I noted stayed in the space for two hours! 

Each postcard tells a story, whether big or small, and gives the viewer a little window into the artist’s life. The complete freedom to create without judgement, grading or expectations has allowed for the truest and rawest expression of emotion from those participating. Some are funny and make people audibly laugh, some are political and thought provoking, and some make you melancholic. There are works from practicing artists, such as Kit Johns who is based in Cornwall, and works from children as young as two. I love being able to go into one gallery space and see work by such varieties of people all shown together and displayed equally. They are all the same size, with the same labels, and none of them are made to appear better than any others. They are all so different and unique, and yet, they are all connected by a shared experience. All of these little fragments and snapshots of people’s lives and experiences looking at you from the gallery walls makes you feel like you like you know all these people, and helps remind us all that we are not alone. 

The compulsory isolation earlier this year was incredibly difficult for everyone. Many people went months without being able to see any of their family or friends at all, staying confined within their own four walls, and the feeling of loneliness has touched everyone, hanging over us all like a raincloud. As such a social species, having to stay away from those you love completely goes against our instincts, and so is very emotionally exhausting; let alone having to face the world whilst going through a pandemic. Now that we have more freedom to move around and visit different places such as restaurants and museums, being able to visit an art gallery and be presented with a visual story of people’s experiences of what they did and how they felt when we were in lockdown is very strengthening and poignant. No matter the heartache or distress you may have been through, there is someone out there who understands. 

To me, the exhibition shows how inherent community is to humans and human nature. I have always loved and been fascinated by this connection humans all seem to share, and the things we do for each other never seen before in other species. It reminds me of the story of Margaret Mead, the American cultural anthropologist, being asked by a student about what she considered to be the first sign of civilisation in a culture. Her response is described below: 

‘Mead said that the first sign of civilisation in an ancient culture was a femur (thighbone) that had been broken and then healed. Mead explained that in the animal kingdom, if you break your leg, you die. You cannot run from danger, get to the river for a drink or hunt for food. You are meat for prowling beasts. No animal survives a broken leg long enough for the bone to heal. broken femur that has healed is evidence that someone has taken time to stay with the one who fell, has bound up the wound, has carried the person to safety and has tended the person through recovery. Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilisation starts. We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilised.’ (Ira Byock, The Best Care Possible: A Physician’s Quest to Transform Care Through the End of Life (Avery, 2012)) 

As humans, it is innately within us to look out for others and care for people around us and feel connected to others. Despite how tough this past year has been, the sheer number of selfless acts and good deeds that have happened has been restoring in my faith in humanity. Deep down it is there in us all, and to me one of the best things we can take forward and learn from these times is how to be a human again, at its very basic meaning. 

One of my favourite parts of working at this exhibition has been listening to visitors who have their postcards up tell me about them, and finding their friends postcards to show me too. Quite often I will be on a hunt for a specific postcard that a visitor knows is on display but cannot find, and despite the sheer quantity of them I am slowly memorising where they all are. I am so lucky to have had such enriching conversations with so many people about their art, and personally tell me the stories and processes behind each individual piece. I feel so connected to each person in these conversations, sharing experiences and anecdotes about the pandemic or just life in general. You can never learn too much by listening to those around you. 

Despite the sadness, loss and many intricate difficulties that the COVID-19 pandemic has imposed upon the world, I keep trying to look for the light through the cracks, and this exhibition is a shining beacon. Every day I get to come in and see it I learn something new, and I see something I didn’t see before. I really hope that everyone else who visits leaves feeling a renewed hope for the future, and a pride in the positivity that people can find in even the darkest times. 

  Photos taken by me