Allison Stevens, "Patriarchy (Unfiltered) in the Cycle of Production," 2020
digital photograph of 8" to 12" plastic articulated figures, 3.8" x 4.5" (courtesy of artist)
The year 1985 was a big one for female artists. In New York City, the Guerrilla Girls, seven women who wore gorilla masks to hide their identities, protested the lack of work by female artists at the Museum of Modern Art. In Winnipeg, another group of women at a newly formed organization, Mentoring Artists for Women’s Art, started a mentorship program to support the intellectual and creative development of women in the visual arts.
That year, Aganetha Dyck was among the first mentors at the Winnipeg group, widely known as MAWA. Dyck – a sculptor who has done remarkable collaborations with honey bees and is a 2007 recipient of the prestigious Governor General’s Award in Visual and Media Arts – says she wouldn’t be an artist today if not for her own mentors. For them, she says, her age and gender didn’t matter. “They never said, ‘well you’re 37-years-old and you’re a woman, so forget it’, which I had heard other people do,” says Dyck, 83. Instead, she says, the critical factor was what she wanted to say with her art.
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Aganetha Dyck, "CHESS," 2006-2008
ceramic figurine with honeycomb (courtesy of artist; photo by Peter Dyck)
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Aganetha Dyck with her artwork, a tablecloth that 500,000 honey bees worked on for two summers. (photo by Peter Dyck)
Even now, five decades after Dyck started on her path as an artist – and 36 years since MAWA began its mentorship program – it can be hard for women to claim the title of artist. There’s no piece of paper that certifies artistry, no governing body that determines who’s in and who’s out. Nor is there a test to pass or fail. You can go to art school to get a degree, but many artists are self-taught.
There is, in fact, no single, universally agreed upon moment when you are given permission to call yourself an artist. Not to mention all the people – relatives, teachers or even strangers – who try to take you down a peg, telling you that you’re not really an artist. Everywhere, it seems, there are people to challenge you. Calling yourself an artist can feel declarative, like pounding a stake in the ground. It takes courage.
Although women typically outnumber men in post-secondary fine arts programs, they are under-represented on gallery walls. A demographic breakdown published in Canadian Art magazine in 2015 found that, over the previous two years, only 36 per cent of solo shows in major Canadian galleries were by women, and only three per cent of shows featured women of colour.
This is where mentoring can help. Mentors pass on useful information and strategies to support emerging artists, while also offering encouragement and positive energy in a world that can be indifferent to the arts and oblivious to the struggles of women and racialized people.
Shawna Dempsey and Lorri Milan, "One Gay City," 1996 and 2021
postcards and bus shelter installations (photo by Sheila Spence)
Over the years, MAWA has created networks of support through several mentorship programs – the largest and longest-running being its foundation mentorship program. The premise is simple: women and non-binary people can apply for a year-long mentorship to build confidence and foster their artistic goals. To date, MAWA has matched 282 emerging artists with established artists through the program. Currently, 10 artists are being mentored each year. Selections are made carefully – most years, MAWA has two to three times more applicants than spots. If chosen, they pay a $300 fee for the entire year.
Shawna Dempsey, an artist who works as MAWA’s co-director, says mentorships are built on the idea that “each emerging artist shouldn’t have to reinvent the wheel and learn things the hard way, that we could share our knowledge and lift each other up.”
Certain professional skills may have been glossed over in art school or are a complete mystery to self-taught artists – things like how to write an artist statement, approach a gallery about an exhibition or set up a project budget. MAWA tries to match the needs of each mentee to the knowledge base of the mentor. Need help writing a grant? Want to network with a particular community? MAWA has mentors with those skill sets. Typically, mentors meet individually with their mentees for four hours each month, and the entire group meets for another three hours for talks, gallery visits and other events.
The driving principle is that mentorship can help reduce barriers.
“When our founding foremothers were looking at how do we achieve gender equity in the visual arts, they thought that mentorship would be the most effective tool,” says Dempsey.
MAWA has created a lively community of female artists in a city known for its vibrant – and welcoming – art scene. When I started researching this story, I was struck by the warmth of the people I talked to. I began to wish that I lived in Winnipeg.
MAWA mentors Leslie Supnet (left) and Yvette Cenerini.
At MAWA, artists begin as mentees, and often return a decade later as mentors, continuing the cycle. Diana Thorneycroft, a well-known Winnipeg artist and one of MAWA’s original mentors, says: “It’s becoming generational and it’s quite extraordinary.”
Indeed, Thorneycroft’s former mentee, Franco-Métis artist Yvette Cenerini, jokingly calls MAWA “the mothership of mentorship.”
Cenerini, who returned as a mentor in 2019, says the program was like a “fast-forward button” that allowed her to reach her goals much more quickly.
“When you’re an independent artist, you have to be everything … the grant writer, the bookkeeper, the appointment calendar manager, the one who has all the ideas, the one who makes all the work,” says Cenerini. “It’s pretty intimidating.”
For many emerging artists, a sense of overwhelm and uncertainty about where to start can stop them from taking their first steps. The percentage of art school students who continue to make art after they graduate is shockingly low. According to a study by Ontario-based cultural consultants Hill Strategies Research, based on data from 2011, only 11 per cent of graduates from post-secondary visual or performing arts programs in Canada were working as artists.
When Cenerini selected her mentees from the pool of applicants, she chose two she figured she could help with grant writing and making connections to the Franco-Manitoban cultural community.
Grant-writing skills, in particular, can ease the way for emerging artists, as funding allows them to take time away from day jobs to make new artwork.
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Jocelyne Le Léannac holding her work, "Josephine," 2019
leaded stained glass, 15" x 31" (courtesy of artist)
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Nichol Marsch, "Cohabitation," 2020
dryer lint, MDF and plexiglass, 36" x 16" x 7" (courtesy of artist)
Cenerini’s mentee, stained-glass artist Jocelyne Le Léannec, remembers the first time they discussed her goals.
“Are you interested in grants?” Cenerini asked.
“No, not at all,” said Le Léannec.
But encouraged by Cenerini, she applied and received four grants, including a Canada Council professional development grant. “If she didn’t encourage me and give me advice and tell me to do this, a lot of doors wouldn’t have opened for me,” says Le Léannec.
Cenerini’s other mentee, Nichol Marsch, also received a Canada Council grant. After the mentorship was over, Marsch found another mentorship opportunity through Creative Manitoba, a group that supports Manitoba’s creative industries, and continued to work with Cenerini. Both Marsch and Le Léannec have upcoming solo shows.
Allison Stevens
For Allison Stevens, another recent MAWA mentee, thinking of herself as an artist was a challenge.
“Before the mentorship I was hesitant to call myself an artist,” says Stevens. “The program has definitely solidified that identity for me.”
Stevens says she was more comfortable calling herself a filmmaker, as that term is grounded in technical skills and experience.
Her mentor, Leslie Supnet, who makes colourful animated shorts, introduced Stevens to Winnipeg’s independent film community, taking her and another mentee to workshops and even touring them around the home of an artist duo.
“Community is the most important thing,” says Supnet.
MAWA mentors and mentees gathered in September 2019. (courtesy MAWA)
Each year, participants in MAWA’s program spend time with each other, celebrating and commiserating together. So firm are their bonds, they often continue to support each other long after the program ends. Last year’s mentees, for instance, are still meeting online every month to critique each other’s work.
Of course, building a network doesn’t solve the art world’s deep structural problems. Although the arts landscape has changed since 1985, especially with growing awareness about inequities over the last year, systemic barriers still exist for women and racialized people. But, looking towards a post-pandemic future when we can meet freely again in person, human connections will make a difference.
Now, when Stevens meets anyone questioning whether to call themselves an artist, she says: “Yes, you are an artist. Claim it, embrace that title.”
“There’s confidence that comes from accepting that identity.” ■
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