This is the story of why I stopped making art for years and how I rediscovered my passion. I’m not juggling it perfectly and haven’t given up the day job. Maybe you can relate.
Artist filmmaker Katie Goodwin & son filming The Morrow, 2016. Photo by Ann-Marie James
The hurdles
There were multiple hurdles that broke my stride. The biggest leap was the arrival of my son. I adored him from the start, but nothing prepared me for how his birth altered everything.
Before he was born there were warning signs. A mentoring session with a male director of a blue-chip gallery queried a career as a female artist, suggesting that into my 30s I was getting a bit old. I dismissed it as sexist nonsense. The late and brilliant Phyllida Barlow, mother of 4 and at the time 70, had just filled the Duveen Gallery in Tate Britain with her epic adhoc creations. If she could do it, why couldn’t I?
Pre-child: Hustling artist life
After my MFA at Wimbledon in 2011, things took off: New Contemporaries, a prize, residencies, commissions and exhibitions in world-class institutions. It wasn’t easy. I juggled art with freelance film work to survive, scraping together grants, £100 exhibition fees and the occasional commission, all whilst living in a mouldy flat-share in London.
In 2014, I escaped and took a residency in a dreamy work-live studio in Helsinki and created new work, supported by grants. In 2015, while pregnant, I toured several solo and duo shows across the UK on a shoestring budget. My career was looking up and then it all changed.
puma.flab.sandwiches Katie Goodwin, Oil painting on canvas board (framed), 33x28cm, 2025
Mama artist: The crash
As a mother, the old hustle didn’t work. I took my son to shows and was floored by the lack of empathy from some mothers. At an install, a curator and mother of 3, asked, “Why isn’t he in childcare?” I wasn’t getting paid; he was 5 months old and still on breast milk.
I’d crowdfunded an art film while pregnant and promised funders prints and a screening. With help from friends and family, I finished filming. But editing with a baby was challenging, working in 45-minute bursts, when I could.
When my child was 9 months, he went into day care for 1 then 2 days a week so I was finally able to settle into a rhythm editing. Now no longer receiving Maternity Allowance my bank account was in the red. My son’s dad covered childcare costs and pushed me to find paid work. The film industry had full-time roles, requiring long shifts, neither of which I could do. I wasn’t ready to hand over my baby to a stranger full-time, especially at astronomical cost.
Fading out
My tiny studio was a luxury I could no longer afford. I spent child-free days editing the film, The Morrow, in cafes and went to a print studio. I felt like part of an artist community again.
The Morrow took 18-months to complete. Originally about settlements lost to the sea, it ended up exploring how civilisations collapse. It was filmed just after Brexit and Britain felt divided. The project burned me out, leading me to take a break from long video projects.
I kept exhibiting widely, often not being able to go to the shows as no travel costs and accommodation were offered and artist fees, already minimal, seemed to evaporate. I didn’t have the time or energy to apply for grants. The strain affected my relationship. I lost confidence, racked up credit card debt, and began to believe the toxic idea that if your art doesn’t make money, it’s simply a hobby.
Mum & Baby in Cloudscape, Hardground etching on paper, 30x21cm, 2018 (Detail)
Small comebacks
Then I had a win. My son was 18 months old and I found paid work again, thanks to a film producer and mum, offering me a part-time role. Then I got another freelance job. It wasn’t a flood, but finally I had a consistent income again.
In 2018 I got a new studio at the Bomb Factory and, with my son in childcare a few days a week, slowly I was making again. Life was still interrupted by paid film gigs and childcare, but at least I was back in a studio.
In 2019, my relationship with my son’s dad ended. Sometimes things are for the best.
2020: Another blow
Then Covid hit. I lost all work again, wasn’t eligible for furlough, and survived on next to nothing and spiralled into more debt. I got a full-time film job in late 2020, where I’ve been since. The job ultimately put the brakes on my art.
Artist Katie Goodwin with her Ice cream fridge painting puma.flab.sandwiches at Royal Academy Summer Show 2025. Photo by Helen Barff.
The comeback
Then, over Christmas 2023, a new puppy curled at my feet, I picked up a brush. One painting became 3 in quick succession. My art mojo was back!
I now have 50 new paintings in my archive and had my first 2 shows in years this spring. One piece even made it into the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, inspired by a photo I took when my son was in his buggy. The circle of life!
I’ve stopped making moving image work for now. I limit screen time beyond my week at the computer for my day job. I have more supporters behind me, one of the loudest being my 9-year-old son, who I often paint with.
Final thoughts
If you’ve stopped making art, but still feel the itch – give yourself permission to begin again. Allow yourself a morning or an evening every week. Make a little space. Write it in your calendar. Be consistent. Do it for you.