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From the Eileen Mayo archive, this short article from 1931 reveals some of the artists' thoughts on privacy as an essential aspect of being a woman. Her self-sufficiency and determination were vital to the development of her long career, so it is no surprise how highly she regarded her own time and space.

A Natural History, Eileen Mayo's first solo exhibition in the UK runs until 3 July 2022.

Originally published in the Birmingham Daily Mail, 12 February 1931

During the past few years, the increasing facilities for amusemnet have brought about a serious and regrettable change in our outlook upon life. Home as our grandparents knew it has lost its significance, and has become merely a shelter for our sleeping moments.

Young as I am, I can well remember the time when an evening engagement was considered a rare event, and something which disturbed the even tenor of life within the home. To-day, we are willingly swept away upon the tide of social events, so that the mere suggestion of an evening at home evokes an exclamation of surprise.

But reaction must set in some day, and it remains to be seen whether we have robbed ourselves in impoverishing our powers of finding amusement from self-created interests.

As an artist I am keenly alive to the important part privacy plays in stabilising my ideas, and supplying the necessary courage to express them in my work. This, I feel sure, applies equally well to all women, whether in business or in the home, and in consequence I am all the more astonished to find how few people reciprocate my view.

So many women demand that life shall be a series of brilliantly coloured pictures, in which cinemas, dances and restaurants supply all the high lights. Outside the stimulus has its medicinal value I admit, but when it causes a young girl to exclaim: "My dear, isn't it awful, I've got to spend an evening indoors," something I feel sure must be wrong with her attitude towards life in general. The trouble I think lies in the fact that the majority of people are afraid of privacy, In cultivating sociable qualities they lose not only the desire for privacy but the capacity for employing such moments profitably.

Thrown upon their own resources they make the tragic discovery that their spiritual and mental resources are bare, and so resort to outside pleasures once again.

All my life I have firmly believed that the cultivation of privacy should be regarded as a necessary part of one's education, for however great the demand may be upon our social gifts, there comes the inevitable moment in life when the urge for privacy is very real indeed.

This is especially true in the case of the housewife. Too often she is the willing slave to her family's demands, and the effort to cope with the needs of her husband and children frequently leaves her prematurely old, both in spirits and appearance.

Virginia Woolf has emphasised this point in one of her recent books, for she maintains that every woman should possess at least one room sacred to her interests and belongings. I know of one such gracious room, and it is a rare privilege to slip away and share its privacy with the owner. Here amid the quiet and harmonious atmosphere the troubles and wear and tear of life slip away, leaving one completely refreshed.

One other point occurs to me which, on consideration, seem more important that all the rest put together. There is something of the artist in every woman, and too often talents remain hidden for want of encouragement.

Years ago I had no idea of succeeding as a painter, but, given the inspiration and the quiet of my room, I painted my first picture.

The great writers and painters of this age are unanimous in agreeing that they owe their most inspired works to being alone. From my own experience I know it to be true, and it is our loss if we neglect privacy and all the opportunities for self-expression that it affords.

Privacy adds immeasurably to life, and when you can say with honesty that there is no joy like the joy of being alone, you have mastered something of the art of living.