Phoebe Millar

Growing up in a small town in south-west England, Phoebe Millar found her own community of artists and like-minded people after moving to London in 2020 to study Painting at the Camberwell College of Arts.

Often portraying herself in her paintings, Millar finds solace in digging deeper into what shapes our shared experiences of womanhood.

5 Questions with Phoebe Millar

What inspires your art?

My art is inspired by past and present ideas of feminism, with my main current interest in questioning whether exposure of the woman’s body is productive or damaging to the movement, as well as wondering whether hyper-sexuality culture is based on choice or ingrained expectation. Surrealist and Dada artists inspire much of my practice too, in terms of imagery, as well as use montage and collage in this sense. I’m getting more and more into textile artists too though nowadays.

On one level, I’m inspired by nature and people around me in a physical sense- I’ve used friends and family as references in the past. This runs deeper though, as it’s the conversations, particularly ones between my female friends and I, that are a large source for what strikes thought for me. Our experiences as western women act as a microcosm of sorts in my head, that fill me with so many emotions that feed into my work, such as anger, irritation and helplessness, but also clarity and hope, as well as collective understanding.

What does being an artist mean to you?

First and foremost, it’s a privilege. It’s something I’m in for the long haul, yet the making of art will inevitably fluctuate, based on time, energy, health, financial circumstances- the list goes on! For me, creating art has been what I’ve seen myself doing, cliché or not, since I can remember. As I’ve grown and learnt more though, it’s gradually become an outlook for me to channel narratives into and a way to raise discussions surrounding both personal and social matters. It’s a responsibility too. As a young woman artist, it’s like, how do I present myself? What does that mean for my work? Is my work helpful? I’d never want to undermine the technical aspects of my studio practice, but these questions are what spring to mind the fastest.

Should art be separated from the artist? What about yourself?

I think it’s impossible to keep these two entities separate. On a literal level, they have to coexist for the other to be possible. Also, an artist’s identity and set of experiences is always going to be what leads them to make their creative decisions, whether conscious or subconscious, visible or invisible. In my own circumstance, the two are closely tied, with most of my recent work containing myself as subject matter. My art projects my feelings surrounding my body, my discomforts and expectations upon myself. A lot of ‘my’ going on here! A lot of the time they feel like visual diary entries.

How important is uniqueness when creating your work?

This question is one I’ve only recently started to consider, but holds great significance to me, nonetheless. I personally think that uniqueness is one of the biggest complements an artist can get. Someone saying to you, ‘I’ve never seen something quite like this before’ is a special thing. With my recent breakthrough into combining the 2D with the 3D (in the form of soft sculpture protruding from the canvas), I felt a kind of epiphanic feeling. When something is new and experimental within the confines of your practice, that’s great, but when audiences are also in that feeling with you, it’s wonderful. Of course, though, there’s going to have been the cause and effect of getting to this point, in which you’re inspired by pre-existing influences, as nothing can be totally stand-alone.

As an artist, do you have a responsibility to make your art accessible to the people?

To an extent, yes. Responsibility is a big word. As I mentioned, I feel like feeling a general sense of responsibility is inevitable, especially when dealing with contexts that a lot of people would perhaps see themselves in, as I tend to do. I think it’s important for it to be accessible, although I am a bit of a control freak and you do have to remind yourself that, even if you’ve tried as hard as you can to make your work objective, subjectivity from an audience will always creep its way in. I’ve had people see my work from angles I didn’t necessarily intend before, which can actually be a useful tool in observing what the general public think, which in turn gives me more thought and inspiration. In a recent case, I was told by someone that he liked how humorous one of my more ironic pieces was, as he said painting women’s bodies can often be ‘too heavy’ or ‘political’. I thought, ‘that’s interesting you see it that way, but it’s you that has made our bodies too uncomfortable or too political for viewing - this wasn’t our choice. If our experiences aren’t always light-hearted, then why should our representation be?’.

“Growing up in the small, very much sheltered community of Marshfield, a largely Conservative village in Southwest England, I often didn’t (and still don’t, when I go back there now and then) feel listened to, when discussing more liberal, feminist perspectives. This too was the case with my lifelong dream to make and study art - that it wasn’t taken seriously- but luckily, I think with time, this somewhat faded away. Finishing school and sixth form in Wiltshire and transitioning into art school life at my Foundation year in Trowbridge was a step in this process too. I’d begun gaining a new confidence in myself and what I was capable of.

Then, when I came to London in 2020 to start my Painting degree at Camberwell, I entered into this new community of people who dreamt of similar things to me and worked towards them, turning them into actual possibilities. It’s the cheesiest thing ever, but I was instantly inspired. As I’ve grown, experienced more, and as I’ve surrounded myself with more meaningful female friendships, I’ve learnt more, as well as questioned more, about what it means to be a woman today. This, of course, feeds into being a young woman artist too. Despite mainly portraying myself in my paintings, and therefore my own existence and thoughts, I find solace, in digging deeper into what shapes our shared experiences of womanhood, despite the discomfort in doing so.”

To explore and stay up to date with Phoebe Millar’s work, visit her website and Instagram.