Timeless London #9 Mary Richards
Updated: Jul 27
把想法出版，帶到這個世界，是值得的！
時：2026年6月23日，下午三時
地：Royal Festival Hall, Southbank Centre
人：Mary Richards
Mary是我在Southbank Centre工作的同事，只是因為不同部門，我們一直沒有真正認識。
會認識她，是因為我很好奇在倫敦做出版是怎樣的一份工作，有次偶然請教同事，同事便把Mary介紹給我。我們原本只約了一杯咖啡的時間，也只打算談出版，沒想到話題一路延伸，由她在牛津讀歷史開始，談到以前在Tate工作、跟Hayward Gallery長年的合作，還有一路把她帶到今天的人生選擇，以及那些始終離不開她生活的事物：藝術、文學、音樂、四個孩子，甚至發現原來我們是住在同一區的鄰居。
我很少遇見一個人，能夠同時做著這麼多不同的事情，而且每一件都同樣有趣。於是，我鼓起勇氣邀請她成為Timeless London的嘉賓，而她也爽快答應了。這天，在倫敦熱浪來襲的一個下午，我們趁著每月一次員工大會開始前，在Royal Festival Hall裡找了一個冷氣比較充足的位置坐下，聊聊她如何把一本書、一冊exhibition catalogue、一個樂團以及生活本身，都慢慢地，編織成同一件作品。
你從哪裡來？為什麼會在倫敦生活？
我父親的工作需要到處旅行，所以我八歲時才搬回英國定居，在Gloucestershire的Cheltenham長大。因為我的五個哥哥姐姐都曾住過倫敦，小時候的我一直以為，倫敦不過是另一間房子，到了某個年紀，大家自然都會搬過去（笑）。後來我在牛津大學畢業後，到倫敦的The Courtauld Institute of Art修讀藝術史碩士，之後便一直留在倫敦工作、建立家庭。所以，我有作為學生的倫敦經驗，而這裡也是我自二十一歲開始工作和生活的地方。我覺得，倫敦是一座能夠容納人生不同階段的城市。
這麼多年來我住過倫敦不同的區域，體驗了她眾多不同的面貌，我慢慢學會把它們一點一滴連結起來。倫敦每一區都有自己的性格，有些區更像是到了另一個城鎮或者村落一樣，初初看起來，它們彼此像是毫無關係，但住久了，你腦中自然會產生一個把所有區域串連起來的清晰畫面，你漸漸摸索出它們之間的連繫，也開始真正理解這座城市。這也是一件很有趣的事情。
你首先是讀歷史的，可以談談後來是怎樣成為Art Publisher嗎？
我一直對畫很有興趣。我大學時讀的歷史系很傳統，但最後那年我們可以選讀比較專門的學科，我選的就是唯一跟藝術相關的文藝復興史。因為課程提及Michelangelo的畫，我們可以到近在眼前的Ashmolean Museum去親眼看他的畫，甚至戴上手套拿起作品仔細鑑賞。那是很難得的經驗，我實在很喜歡透過展品和文物去理解歷史。除了歷史和文學之外，我也開始對藝術產生濃厚興趣，因為我發現，藝術同樣可以成為理解歷史、詮釋世界的一種方式；所以當決定想做什麼工作時，那很簡單，只要能涉獵藝術、歷史、文學這些我覺得最為有趣和好玩的範疇就好了。至於做出版這行，因為我是個愛書人，喜歡藝術也就會喜歡閱讀藝術。我的第一份工作是在倫敦的一間商業畫廊做實習生，他們出版非常美麗的藝術書籍，我一下子便被這份工作吸引，就一路做到現在。
跟策劃展覽一樣，我的工作 ── 製作 exhibition catalogue和相關書籍 ── 需要跟藝術家非常緊密地合作。很多時候，我合作的是仍然在世的藝術家，我可以走進他們的世界，近距離捕捉他們如何思考、如何創作。藝術家通常都很愛閱讀，也讀很多一般人未必接觸過的書，他們對於希望哪些作家參與自己的出版物往往都有很多有趣的想法。其實閱讀本身也是他們創作的一部分，他們會不停鑽研不同文本，再把那些養分帶回自己的作品裡。
很多藝術家都很投入這個過程，因為這一冊目錄將會是他們展覽的一個紀錄、一個存檔，它是唯一會在展覽後留下的東西，流存在圖書館、在大家的書架上。我很快就意識到，書在一個展覽當中，其實是一個非常特別的存在。
你覺得怎樣才算是一本值得出版的書？
我覺得，只要你真的有東西想說，把它出版、帶到這個世界，總是值得的。
不過，當我們開始策劃一本書的時候，我一定會首先去想：外面已經有什麼？別人曾經怎樣做過？如果是一本關於某位藝術家的書，我會先看看過去出版過哪些作品，它們採取了什麼角度，而我又可以怎樣用一個新的方式去說這個故事。我覺得這件事本身很有趣，我們可以怎樣把一本書做得更特別？又可以加入什麼新的觀點？所以我一直都會很認真地問自己：這本書有沒有新的東西？它跟其他書有什麼不同？它值不值得被做出來？
當然，你也希望把它做到最好。一本書除了內容之外，它本身也可以是一件很美的作品。我們一直跟不同的印刷廠保持很密切的合作，有時候會嘗試一些比較特別的做法，例如選用不同的紙材、加入一些細微但有趣的設計巧思，讓讀者拿起這本書時，多一點驚喜、多一點質感。我想，所有這些事情加起來，就是一本書值得被出版的原因。
可以說說一本exhibition catalogue是怎樣由零開始去做起的嗎？不如就用現在正在舉行的Anish Kapoor展覽作為例子？
其實這次有點特別，因為我們很早便決定這本 exhibition catalogue 要收錄展覽現場的裝置照片，而這並不是我們平常會做的事。除了作品本身之外，Anish Kapoor 也希望讀者能看見它們在畫廊空間裡呈現的樣子，所以我們最後決定為同一個展覽做兩本書：第一本是配合展覽開幕推出的照片合集，收錄他一些從未公開過的照片；而第二本才是真正的 exhibition catalogue，它會在展覽開始後才推出，把在展場拍攝的照片放進書裡，作為整個展覽的紀錄。
（筆者：我知道 Kapoor 的作品很關乎空間，在不同的畫廊有不同的展示方式，所以能包括展覽當刻的照片，感覺特別有意義。）
對，我想這個展覽的確很適合這樣做。而且這次展期有十八個星期，比一般展覽期長得多，我們才有足夠時間完成這件事；我們一開始便把整本書設計好，只預留最後三十二頁空白，等待展覽開幕後拍攝現場的照片，再在最後一刻放進去印刷。所以這本書需要預購，是因為它其實是最近才完成印製的。
至於內容方面，我們通常一開始便會跟藝術家討論這本書採取什麼方向，也會一起決定邀請哪些作者參與。以 Kapoor 為例，美國策展人 Nancy Spector 原本已經在寫一篇關於他作品的文章，所以我們邀請她把文章發展成專門為這次 Hayward Gallery 展覽而寫的版本；我們亦委約了倫敦作家 Sandhini Poddar 撰文，而 Kapoor 自己則非常希望邀請法國精神分析學家及哲學家 Julia Kristeva 為作品寫一篇回應 ── 對我來說，能夠跟已經八十歲的 Julia Kristeva 合作是一件非常榮幸的事。除此之外，這是 Hayward Gallery 總監 Ralph Rugoff 在任二十年後卸任前的最後一個展覽，他跟 Kapoor 進行了一場很深入的長篇對談，談的不只是這次展覽，而是整個藝術創作歷程。要把這篇深度訪談做到既容易閱讀，又能真正觸及藝術家的思想，其實一點也不容易。
我一直都很喜歡在 exhibition catalogue 裡保留藝術家自己的聲音。無論是透過訪談，還是作品旁邊的文字，我覺得只要觀眾能直接接觸藝術家的想法，就可以跟作品建立一種更直接的連結。
除了藝術書籍之外，你也出版兒童刊物，兩者真的很不同的面向呢，可以分享一下為什麼會開始做童書嗎？
其實最初是一個意外呢（笑）。大概是在2005年左右吧，我在 Tate 美術館工作的時候還未有小朋友。我跟我的伴侶 David Schweitzer，他現在是我的丈夫，是一位作曲家和填詞人，我們當時想到一個點子：不如做一張關於藝術和藝術家的音樂專輯吧。於是我們便帶著這個構想到Tate，沒想到他們很喜歡，負責的人聽完之後跟我們說：「這真的很適合七至十三歲的小朋友！」我們當下其實也有點意外，因為從來沒有想過這會是一套兒童作品（笑）。不過後來回想，或許是因為我們寫歌時本來就用了很簡單直接的語言，加上歌曲節奏輕快，而 David 很擅長把大量資訊濃縮進一首歌裡，所以原來真的很適合小朋友。我想，那就是我們第一次開始創作一些「適合所有年齡」的作品。
真正開始認真寫童書，是後來自己有了孩子之後。我亦跟David一起創立了出版品牌Agnes & Aubrey (名字取自我們兩人的middle names)，出版更多童書作品。不過，我一直沒有刻意用「這是寫給小朋友看的」這種心態去寫。我只是希望把事情說得容易理解，不把內容弄得太複雜，但同時也不會因為對象是孩子，就刻意把一些重要的事情省略。我一直希望一本童書除了讓孩子喜歡，大人陪著一起閱讀時也同樣會覺得有趣。好的童書，我覺得應該同時屬於大人和小孩的。
（筆者：你最享受寫童書的哪一個部分？）
其實還是寫作本身吧。我最喜歡的部分就是坐下來思考：我這次想說什麼？又應該怎樣把它說出來？我一直很享受把一件事情化成文字的過程。我亦很喜歡研究，這幾年我寫了一系列關於音樂家的童書，其中很多都是大家不太熟悉的人，但因為要製作這些書，我一一學到他們的故事。每次開始一個新題目，我都有種彷彿什麼也不知道的感覺，要透過重新閱讀和學習，一步一步走進那個題目的世界。我相當喜歡這個過程。
你好像一直都在創作。你是怎樣在藝術、工作、生活和四個孩子之間取得平衡的？
我覺得我們其實不會真正怎樣平衡任何事情呢。老實說，在還沒有孩子之前，我已經覺得自己平衡不了生活；有了孩子之後，這件事也沒有改變。所以我想，所謂「平衡」，大概根本不存在吧。只是因為我一直都很想創作、很想去做不同的事情，你最後總是會想到辦法繼續做下去的。
不過，當孩子還很小的時候，當然不是這樣。我是先有兩個孩子，後來又生了一對雙胞胎。雙胞胎出生時，大女兒才剛滿五歲，所以有一段時間，我們家有四個五歲以下的小朋友。那兩年我真的什麼都沒有做，生活裡只有孩子而已（笑）。
直到他們開始上幼兒園，我才慢慢重新開始寫作。寫作有一個好處，就是它可以利用零碎的時間完成。送孩子上學之後，我便可以坐下來寫一會兒。後來他們慢慢長大、開始上學，我也終於能夠重新安排自己的工作節奏；我想，寫童書其實也是因為孩子。我那時候每天都在陪他們看書、買書，自然開始留意市場上有什麼作品，也開始思考自己可以寫些什麼。除此之外，我和丈夫還一起在孩子的小學辦了一個社區樂團。直到現在，即使孩子們都已經長大了，我們還是會回到學校，跟家長和學生一起排練、一起演奏。
（筆者：對我來說還是很不可思議，你真的做了很多不同的事情，我感覺你的時間管理技巧真的很好啊！）
其實不是呢。老實說，我覺得無論是你還是我，都一樣。生活永遠都不會變得容易，總會有一些想做的事情，卻永遠沒有足夠的時間去完成。我不覺得這種狀態會因為年紀、工作或者家庭而改變。
你剛剛提及到學校的樂團，這讓我想到與社區的連結。你和家人一直都生活在Brockley，這些年來，你是怎樣跟一個地方建立連結的？
我和丈夫十年前開始在孩子的小學成立了一個社區樂團，每個星期五早上我們都會到學校，跟七十多位學生，以及二十多位家長和照顧者一起演奏。我們有時會演奏古典音樂，但更多時候David會重新編排流行歌曲。一開始會成立樂團是想多參與孩子的校園生活，但即使現在孩子早已長大，我們仍然每個星期都會回去。參與樂團的家長和孩子換了一批又一批，但也有不少人一直留下來，因為大家都很珍惜這件事。那真的是一星期裡最快樂的時光之一。
現在回頭看，最讓人感動的是，我們當年樂團裡的一些孩子，如今仍繼續演奏音樂。我們偶爾還會在街上遇見他們，看見他們揹著樂器經過，就會互相打招呼。那種陪伴一個社區慢慢成長的感覺，很特別，也很rewarding。而且我想我們之所以能一直兼顧這麼多事情，也跟住在Brockley這個社區有關，孩子的學校、丈夫的錄音室、我的工作，全部都在彼此幾分鐘的距離內。我們可以很快地在學校、家和工作室之間來回，所以很多事情都變得可行。
我一直都很喜歡生活裡有不同的事情同時發生，如果每天都只做同一件事，我反而可能會有點無聊。也許我一直都是這樣的人。
在你眼中，音樂、藝術、文學和歷史，是不是其實都在說同一件事情？
回想起來，這些都是我從小就很喜歡的事情，人小時候真正喜歡的東西其實很少會離開自己。而如果有一天，你竟然能夠把那些童年時熱愛的事物變成自己的工作，那真的是一件非常幸運的事；另一方面，它們其實都是人理解世界的方式：歷史讓我們認識過去，而音樂、藝術和文學，則讓我們表達自己和理解今天的世界。它們看起來屬於不同的範疇，但本質上其實都在回應同一件事情。
就像我們現在工作的Southbank Centre正是一個很好的例子。我在Hayward Gallery工作，但同一個地方也有音樂廳、演出和不同形式的藝術，我很喜歡這種不同藝術形式互相碰撞的感覺。就連音樂本身也是這樣，我拉小提琴，除了跟丈夫一起演奏之外，也曾經加入流行樂團。我一直很喜歡古典和流行音樂之間那種模糊的界線，覺得它們不一定要分得那麼清楚。
（筆者：我是個很沉迷古典音樂的人，一個月最多試過去了八場在我們Royal Festival Hall的音樂會。）真的嗎？那太好了。音樂就是這樣，愈聽愈會陷進去，它會慢慢變成生活的一部分。
如果可以改變一件事，你想……？
如果是我自己的話，我並沒有特別想改變什麼。但隨著孩子們慢慢長大，我愈來愈常思考的是年輕人的心理健康。像我剛才所說的社區樂團，它讓孩子和年輕人聚在一起演奏、一起認識彼此，也讓每個人都覺得自己屬於某個地方。我很希望這種事情能夠愈來愈多。
現在有很多年輕人都面對著不同的心理健康問題，所以我在想，作為一個社會，我們還可以怎樣創造一個讓每個人都找到自己的位置、擁有生活的目的，並且有機會透過不同的活動與彼此連結、產生歸屬感的環境？ ── 我其實很相信藝術可以做到這件事，我覺得這些事情其實應該放在社會更核心的位置，而不是變成一種可有可無的東西。所以，如果真的可以改變一件事，我會說是希望每一個人都有機會參與這些事情，而沒有人會因為任何原因而被排除在外。
我想到自己的孩子，想像他們長大後會生活在一個怎樣的世界。有時候當然會擔心，社交媒體、未來的工作、世界的變化等等，好像都有很多未知之數。但另一方面，我也相信，也許這一代年輕人會教懂我們一些新的事情，世界未必只會愈來愈差。很多事情都無法預測，但我們能做的，只是在每一個當下，盡力作出自己認為最好的決定。
一年後的今天，你覺得自己會在做什麼？
這真是一個很好的問題。我猜，我大概還是在Southbank Centre做另一本展覽圖錄吧。其實一年對出版來說並不算很長，我們現在已經在準備明年的展覽，所以很多事情，其實早就開始在規劃了。不過，你永遠不知道會發生什麼事。也許到時候我正在忙另一個完全不同的新計劃，又或者正在寫另一本新書。很多事情都很難說，但你這問題真的讓我開始去想了（笑）。
但有一件事我倒是很期待 ── 明年這個時候，我四個孩子應該都剛剛完成考試。那是很難得的一年，因為他們都會比平常更早放暑假，所以說不定，我們會全家一起去旅行。現在想想，也許我真的應該開始計劃了。
「也許我真的應該開始計劃了。」我很記得Mary笑著說的這一句。
整個訪問裡，Mary一直沒有談什麼成功的捷徑，也沒有說什麼時間管理大法。她只是一直在分享如何把事情一步一步去做好：出版一本書、策劃一本展覽圖錄、寫一本童書、組織一個社區樂團，甚至養育四個孩子。她說，如果有一件事想做，就把它寫進日程裡，很簡單；如果不斷等有更多時間，事情很多時候都不會發生。她相信自己的直覺，也相信持續創作和持續累積的力量。她的一切熱情和創造，最後慢慢連成了一張只有回頭才看得見的地圖。我覺得，這真是Mary身上最迷人的地方。
我想，好的事情，其實不一定需要轟轟烈烈。只要願意開始，又有足夠的熱愛，它們終究會慢慢發生。
專欄簡介
用心生活的人都是值得欣賞的。在倫敦，我召集了十二位用心生活的人，他們有著不同的
背景、職業、愛好、生活方式，但共通的是，他們對生活有著熱情的心。我一一訪問，紀錄他們當前狀態，希望一年後，這個小小的時間囊會成為他們檢視生活的美好回憶。
作者簡介
大學中文系畢業、英國University of Leicester博物館及畫廊研究碩士。目前在倫敦某大型
文化藝術中心工作，並以教廣東話作為點綴；兩屆青年文學獎得主，作品曾刊《字花》、
《別字》等，著有專欄〈原來都走到這裡〉刊《大頭菜文藝月刊》。喜歡村上春樹、古典
音樂、伯爵茶和鄰居的貓。
Timeless London
#9 Mary Richards
Date: 3pm, 23 June 2026
Location: Royal Festival Hall, Southbank Centre
Guest: Mary Richards
Mary is a colleague of mine at the Southbank Centre, though because we work in different departments, we had never really got to know each other. We met because I was curious about what it was like to work in publishing in London. One day I happened to ask a colleague about it, who then introduced me to Mary.
We had only planned to meet for a coffee and talk about publishing, but our conversation quickly grew into something much more. We started with her history degree at Oxford, then talked about her years at Tate, her long-standing relationship with the Hayward Gallery, the choices that had led her to where she is today, and the things that have always been part of her life: art, literature, music, her four children — and even the discovery that we are neighbours living in the same part of London.
I rarely meet someone who does so many different things, yet finds each of them equally fascinating. So I gathered the courage to invite Mary to be a guest on Timeless London, and she immediately said yes. On a sweltering afternoon during London's heatwave, just before our monthly all-staff meeting, we found a cool corner in the Royal Festival Hall and sat down to talk about how she has slowly woven books, exhibition catalogues, music, and life itself into one continuous whole.
Where are you from? What brought you to London?
My father travelled a lot for work, so I didn't move back to the UK until I was eight, when we settled in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire. My five older siblings had all lived in London, so as a child, I thought London was simply another house, a place everyone eventually moved to when they were old enough (Laughs.) After graduating from Oxford, I came to London to study for a Master's degree in Art History at The Courtauld Institute of Art. I've stayed ever since, building both my career and my family here. I've experienced London first as a student, and then as the place where I've lived and worked since I was twenty-one. To me, it's a city that can hold every stage of life.
Over the years I've lived in many different parts of London, gradually learning how they all connect. Every neighbourhood has its own character — some even feel like completely different towns or villages. At first they seem unrelated, but after living here for long enough, you begin to see how everything fits together. Little by little, you understand the connections between them, and in doing so, you begin to understand the city itself. I think that's one of the most interesting things about London.
You studied history first. How did you become an art publisher?
I've always loved painting. My history degree at university was quite traditional, but in my final year we could choose a specialist subject, and I picked the only one related to art: Renaissance history. We studied Michelangelo, and because the Ashmolean Museum was just around the corner, we were able to see his works in person — even wearing gloves to handle some of them. It was an extraordinary experience, and I realized how much I loved understanding history through objects and artworks.
Alongside history and literature, I became increasingly interested in art because I realized it, too, could be a way of understanding history and interpreting the world. So when I started thinking about a career, the answer felt quite simple: I wanted to work in the fields I found most fascinating — art, history and literature. Publishing came naturally because I've always loved books, and loving art also meant loving books about art. My first job was as an intern at a commercial gallery in London that published beautiful art books. I was immediately drawn to that world, and I've stayed in it ever since.
Like curating an exhibition, producing exhibition catalogues and related publications involves working very closely with artists. Often I work with living artists, which gives me the chance to step into their world and see how they think and create. Artists are usually avid readers, often discovering books most people have never heard of, and they always have fascinating ideas about the writers they want to include in their publications. Reading is very much part of their creative practice — they immerse themselves in texts and bring those influences back into their work.
Many artists become deeply involved in making a catalogue because it becomes the lasting record of their exhibition. Once the exhibition is over, it's the one thing that remains — sitting on library shelves and in people's homes. I quickly realised that, within an exhibition, a book holds a very special place.
What makes a book worth publishing?
I think if you genuinely have something to say, then bringing it into the world in the form of a book is always worthwhile.
That said, whenever we begin planning a new book, the first thing I ask myself is: what is already out there? How have other people approached this subject before? If we're publishing a book about an artist, I'll look at what has already been written about them, what perspectives have been explored, and how we might tell that story in a different way. I find the process so interesting. How can we make this book feel more distinctive? What fresh ideas can we bring to it? I'm always asking myself: is there something new here? What makes this book different from the others? Is it truly worth making?
And of course, you want to make it as beautifully as you can. A book is not only about its content — it can be a beautiful object in itself. We work very closely with a number of specialist printers, and sometimes we'll experiment with unusual papers or small but thoughtful design details that give the finished book an extra sense of surprise and tactility when someone picks it up. I think it's all of these things, taken together, that make a book worth publishing.
Could you walk us through how an Exhibition Catalogue comes together? Perhaps using the current Anish Kapoor exhibition as an example?
This exhibition has actually been rather unusual. Quite early on, we decided that the exhibition catalogue would include photographs of the installation itself, which isn't something we normally do. Besides the artworks, Anish Kapoor also wanted readers to experience how they existed within the gallery space, so we eventually decided to make two books for the same exhibition. The first was a book of photographs, released when the exhibition opened, featuring a series of previously unseen photographs by Kapoor himself. The second is the exhibition catalogue, which will only be published after the show has opened, incorporating installation photographs taken in the gallery as a record of the exhibition itself.
(Iris: Kapoor's work is deeply connected to space, and seeing the works in situ feels particularly meaningful.) Yes, I think this exhibition really lends itself to that approach. This exhibition runs for eighteen weeks, it’s much longer than most exhibitions, which gives us enough time to produce the catalogue in this way. We designed almost the entire book in advance, deliberately leaving the final thirty-two pages blank so that, once the exhibition had opened, we could photograph the installation, insert those images, and send the completed book to print at the very last moment. That's why the catalogue has been available for pre-order — it has only just been printed.
As for the editorial side, we always begin by discussing the overall direction of the book with the artist, including who we'd like to invite to contribute. In Kapoor's case, the American curator Nancy Spector had already begun writing about his work, so we invited her to develop that essay specifically for the Hayward Gallery exhibition. We also commissioned a new essay from the London-based writer Sandhini Poddar, while Kapoor himself was particularly keen for the French psychoanalyst and philosopher Julia Kristeva to contribute a response to his work. For me, collaborating with Julia Kristeva, now in her eighties, was an extraordinary privilege.
This is also the final exhibition by Hayward Gallery Director Ralph Rugoff, who is leaving after twenty years, and his extensive conversation with Kapoor became an important part of the catalogue. Their discussion isn't just about this exhibition, but about Kapoor's artistic practice as a whole. Creating an interview that is both intellectually rich and genuinely accessible is far more difficult than it sounds.
I've always felt it's important for an exhibition catalogue to preserve the artist's own voice. Whether through interviews or the texts displayed alongside the works, I think the more directly audiences can encounter an artist's thoughts, the more immediate their connection with the work becomes.
Alongside art books, you've also published children's books — a very different field. How did that begin?
It actually happened quite by accident (Laughs.) This was around 2005, when I was still working at Tate and didn't have children yet. My partner David Schweitzer — who's now my husband — is a songwriter and composer, and one day we came up with the idea of making an album of songs about art and artists. We took the proposal to Tate, and they loved it. After listening to the songs, someone said to us, "This would be perfect for children aged seven to thirteen!" We were quite surprised because we'd never intended to make something for children. Looking back, though, it makes sense. We'd written the lyrics in very simple language, the songs were lively and upbeat, and David has a wonderful ability to pack an enormous amount of information into a song. Somehow, it all turned into something that worked beautifully for younger audiences. I suppose that was the first time we made something we liked to describe as being "for all ages."
I only started writing children's books more seriously after having children myself, and with David I also began publishing some under our imprint, Agnes & Aubrey (our middle names). Even then, I never consciously thought of myself as writing for children. I simply wanted to explain things clearly, without making them unnecessarily complicated, while never talking down to young readers or leaving out ideas simply because they were children. I've always hoped my books would be just as enjoyable for the adult reading alongside a child as for the child reading it alone. To me, a good children's book belongs equally to both.
(Iris: What do you enjoy most about writing children's books?) It's still the writing itself. My favourite part is sitting down and asking myself: what am I trying to say this time, and how should I say it? I love the process of turning ideas into words. I also really enjoy research. Over the past few years, I've written a series of children's books about musicians, many of whom aren't especially well known. Working on those books allowed me to discover their stories one by one. Every time I begin a new project, I feel as though I know almost nothing. I have to read, research and gradually immerse myself in an entirely new subject. I find that process incredibly rewarding.
You always seem to be creating something. How do you balance art, work, life and raising four children?
I don't think we ever really learn how to balance everything. To be honest, I already felt I couldn't balance my life before I had children, and having children didn't really change that. So perhaps this idea of "balance" doesn't really exist. I simply have a very strong desire to keep making things and to keep doing different kinds of work, and somehow you always find a way to carry on.
Of course, it wasn't like that when the children were very young. We had two children first, and then twins. When the twins were born, our eldest had only just turned five, so for a while we had four children under the age of five. Those two years were entirely about the children — I honestly didn't do anything else (Laughs.) It wasn't until they started nursery that I gradually returned to writing. One of the wonderful things about writing is that you can do it in small pockets of time. Once I'd dropped the children off, I could sit down and write for a while. As they grew older and started school, I slowly found my own rhythm again.
In many ways, I think I began writing children's books because of them. I spent so much time reading children's books and buying them that I naturally became curious about what was already out there, and what I might be able to contribute. Around the same time, my husband and I also started a community orchestra at our children's primary school. Even though our children have long since grown up, we still go back every week to rehearse and perform with the students and their parents.
(Iris: I'm still amazed by everything you've managed to do. It honestly feels like you must have incredible time-management skills.) Actually, I don't think so. Honestly, I think you're probably the same as I am. Life never really becomes easier. There will always be things you want to do, and never quite enough time to do them all. I don't think that ever changes — whether because of age, work, or family.
You mentioned the school orchestra, which made me think about community. You and your family have lived in Brockley for many years. How do you build a connection with a place?
My husband and I started the community orchestra at our children's primary school about ten years ago. Every Friday morning we go into the school to play music with more than seventy children, alongside around twenty-five parents and carers. Sometimes we play classical music, but more often David arranges pop songs, and everyone really enjoys it. We originally started the orchestra simply because we wanted to be more involved in the life of the school, but we still go back every week even though our own children have left. Over the years, the parents and children have gradually changed, but many people have stayed because everyone cares so deeply about it. It’s one of the highlights of my week.
Looking back, what's most moving is that some of the children who once played in the orchestra have carried on playing music. Every now and then we'll see them walking down the street with their instruments, and we'll stop to say hello. There's something very special and incredibly rewarding about watching a community grow alongside you; I also think we've been able to keep so many different parts of our lives going because of Brockley itself. Our children's school, my husband's studio and our home are all within a few minutes of each other. Being able to move so easily between school, home and work has made so much possible.
I've always enjoyed having different things happening in my life at the same time. If I only did one thing every day, I think I'd probably get rather bored. Perhaps I've always been that sort of person.
Do you think music, art, literature and history are, in the end, all trying to express the same thing?
When I look back, I realize these are all things I've loved since childhood. The things you truly love when you're young rarely ever leave you. And if you're fortunate enough to grow up and somehow turn those childhood passions into your life's work, that's an extraordinary privilege. At the same time, I think they're all different ways of understanding the world. History helps us make sense of the past, while music, art and literature allow us to express ourselves and understand the world we live in today. They may seem like different disciplines, but in many ways they're all responding to the same fundamental questions.
The Southbank Centre is such a wonderful example of this. I work at the Hayward Gallery, but under the same roof there are concert halls, performances, and all different kinds of artistic expression. I love the way all these art forms constantly meet and influence one another. Even within music itself, I think those boundaries are much more fluid than people imagine. I play the violin, and besides performing with my husband, I also used to play in a pop band. I've always enjoyed the blurred line between classical and popular music. I don't think those worlds need to be separated quite so neatly.
(Iris: I have to admit, I'm a little obsessed with classical music. At one point I went to eight concerts at our very own Royal Festival Hall in a single month.) Really? That's wonderful. Music has a way of drawing you in. The more you listen, the deeper you fall into it, until before you know it, it has simply become part of your life.
If you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?
Personally, I don't think there's anything I'd particularly want to change. But as my children have grown older, I've found myself thinking more and more about young people's mental health. Take the community orchestra I mentioned earlier, it brings children and young people together to play music, to get to know one another, and to feel that they belong somewhere. I'd love to see more opportunities like that.
Many young people today are struggling with their mental health, and it makes me wonder what more we, as a society, can do to create a world where everyone feels they have a place, a sense of purpose, and chances to connect with one another through shared activities. I genuinely believe art can play an important role in that. I'd love to see it placed much closer to the centre of society, rather than being treated as something optional. So if I could change one thing, it would simply be that everyone had the chance to take part in these experiences, and that no one was excluded from them.
I think about my own children and the kind of world they'll grow up in. Of course I worry sometimes — about social media, the future of jobs and all the uncertainty that lies ahead. But at the same time, I also believe this generation may end up teaching us things we don't yet understand. The future isn't necessarily going to become darker. So much is impossible to predict. All we can really do is make the best decisions we can in the present.
A year from today, what do you think you'll be doing?
(Laughs.) That's such a good question. I imagine I'll probably still be here at the Southbank Centre, working on another exhibition catalogue. A year actually isn't very long in publishing, we're already planning exhibitions for next year, so many of those projects have already begun. But then again, you never really know what will happen. Perhaps I'll be immersed in a completely separate new project, even working on another book. It's impossible to say. You’ve made me wonder about that!
There is one thing I'm looking forward to, though. By this time next year, all four of my children should have finished their exams. It's quite a special year, because they'll be breaking up for the summer earlier than usual, so perhaps we'll finally be able to take a family holiday together. Now that I think about it... perhaps I really should start planning it.
"Perhaps I really should start planning it." I still remember Mary saying that with a smile.
Throughout our conversation, she never spoke about shortcuts to success, nor did she offer any grand theory of time management. Instead, she simply talked about doing one thing well, then the next: making a book, producing an exhibition catalogue, writing children's books, running a community orchestra, raising four children. "If there's something you want to do," she told me, "put it in your diary." It's as simple as that. If we keep waiting until we have more time, many things simply never happen.
She trusts her instincts, and she believes in the quiet accumulation that comes from continuing to make things. Over time, every passion, every project, every act of creation gradually joins together, forming a map that only reveals itself in retrospect. And I think that's what I found most captivating about Mary.
Perhaps the best things in life don't need to happen in dramatic ways. As long as we're willing to begin — and care enough to keep going — the rest, slowly, has a way of finding their place in the world.
About the Author
Iris Yee-Ting Chow, (Official Website) born and raised in pre-1997 Hong Kong. Moved to the UK in 2018 and has been here ever since. Holds a degree in Chinese Language and Literature from Hong Kong, and a master's in Art Museum and Gallery Studies from the University of Leicester, UK. Currently works at a major art and culture centre in London and moonlights as a Cantonese teacher.
Twice awarded the Hong Kong Youth Literature Award. Work has appeared in Fleurs des Lettres and Typo. Writes the column ‘So This Is Where I've Come To‘ for The Turnip Arts Journal. A lover of Haruki Murakami, classical music, Earl Grey tea, and the neighbour's cat.
Comments