How Photographer Jenny Lewis Learned To Accept Ageing
If you’ve walked around Melbourne’s State Library Precinct lately, you’ve stared at a series of giant portraits. They’re the works of UK photographer Jenny Lewis from her portrait series One Hundred Years, and are part of the biennial festival Photo 2022. In her work, she took separate portrait shots of 101 residents living in Hackney London, at every age from birth to 100. It’s not only an insight into a community but different age groups; subject interviews accompanying each photograph. The project took five years to complete and has been turned into a book, Lewis’ third, that was published last year.
I was at a point in my life when I was surrounded by people my own age with similar views to my own – mothers and artists – and I wondered what it was like with everyone else. I’d forgotten what it meant to be 20 years old, and wanted to know where the seed of myself had gone. I have teenagers, but I wanted to know: What are young kids like? What are 60 year olds like? I just wanted to investigate that, and come to an acceptance of getting older and understand what was coming next. I wanted to surround myself with those voices and see what was out there.
My preconceived ideas about getting older were of course completely wrong. I found so much joy and positivity and fun with a lot of the older people, and it actually left me feeling really excited about the next stage and the next chapter, rather than being scared of it. I photographed one woman, Shana, in her 50s, after hearing her sing at a funeral, when her voice had made me cry. She told me she had had five brain surgeries, and her resilience and her approach to life was so positive that I was blown away. I met Elaine, 69, who was so hilarious and so much fun. She told me how she misses having sex, and wants that human connection and intimacy again, and why shouldn’t she? She was so vibrant and off on an adventure, moving to Madrid. I always thought that when I would be that age, I’d feel a sense of loss of my children moving away. I hadn’t thought about what I would gain: a new freedom, each chapter as a new beginning with so many opportunities. I’m really glad that I have challenged and broken down the prejudice and imagined limitations of ageing I had.
I wanted to put out different images of beauty. Every time you’re creating those positive images of women - especially older women - and putting them out there in the world, you’re diluting the onslaught of the celebration of youth. You’re showing another perspective. And because I’m adding their stories and their words, it shows that there’s more to people than just looks. We are all multi-faceted. There was an actress I photographed named Saskia Reeves who said she expected her passion for her craft of acting to diminish and soften as she had a family, but instead she’s become more fiercely passionate than ever, and being offered more diverse roles. It’s encouraging to hear that someone is growing stronger and becoming more outspoken as they move through chapters of their life. There is a clearer sense of self and worrying less about what other people think. You actually drop a lot of anxiety.
When you walk through the installation in Melbourne, you’re literally walking through life. There seems to be a lot of anxiety and trauma going on for those in their 30s and 40s, because it’s a very busy time of life. You’re still trying to figure out your career; whether you’ll have a family; relationships. There’s a lot to manage and a lot of expectations. Then when you walk through [and see people in their] 70s, 80s and 90s, they’re past caring about all that. They’re just living. There’s so much freedom, and so much joy, too. I came away from many of those conversations [with older people] so enriched, having really loosened up and laughing with them. It encouraged me to seek out more inter-generational connection in my life. I want that diversity of conversation, the spontaneity of not knowing what someone might talk about. I want to listen to new opinions that are not reflecting my own experience. Doing this made me want to be more open. When I meet my mates, we tend to talk about the news and the war in the Ukraine and what the kids are doing and what we should be doing with our careers. We’re all in the same chapter of our lives. It’s refreshing to hear about what other people might be dealing with; to have empathy and insight.
A journalist who interviewed me mentioned that I started this project when my dad was really ill with cancer, and around the time I’d lost a couple of friends to cancer. I hadn’t realised until then how much the series was about vulnerability, mortality and fear of what was coming next. I think that really shook me. I was cruising through life, expecting things to be a little bit linear. Everything was on track: family, career - and then someone my age died? There was a massive hole where this person had been and no control over who might go next. A realisation about human fragility really hit home. On top of that, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease - rheumatoid arthritis. I’d gone from being incredibly healthy to having times when I couldn’t walk. The project really helped to ground me, and process where I am in life. As a photographer I think I have always been trying to figure out my place in the world, to see where I fit in. Talking to some of the older people who had experienced trauma, I saw that they not only got through it but were really happy with where they were now. It was life lessons I needed to hear. There is a way to get through sadness and there will be opportunities for happiness on the other side. All you need is hope.
Photo 2022 is on in Melbourne until May 22, 2022