Artists Capturing the Pain, Discomfort and ‘Social Unease’ of IVF

IVF goes hand in hand with discomfort. A unique meeting between science, sexuality and emotion, this medical procedure holds the ultimate hope of new life alongside the all-too-common potential for grief and disappointment. Approaching my first cycle, I was unable to grasp its overwhelming entirety. My mind darted between dull practicalities. Could I dye my hair? Would my body’s unpredictable schedule fit around my deadlines? Was it safe for my medication to share the fridge with a stinky box of cheese? In retrospect, this fusion of sterile medication and mouldy dairy represented a larger fear of what was about to happen to me, injected with substances both life-giving and, I imagined, mind-, body- and soul-altering.

The discomfort of IVF is evident in art mostly through its absence. Despite the fact that eight million births to date are the result of IVF, the procedure is infrequently represented. The few artists that do tackle the topic of assisted reproduction often explore their own experience and bring the social unease that surrounds it to the fore. Xin Liu’s futuristic sculptures, for instance, spring from her conflicted thoughts about egg freezing, which she first considered in 2022. Her ongoing practice examines the anticipated impact on her mind, body, career and relationships. Sculptural works such as The Mothership and The Body That Opens (both 2023) are covered in frosty substances or mimic twisted bones, visualizing the artist’s fears about the impact of IVF drugs and egg collection on our insides.

‘A married woman is expected to have kids rather than go through a medical procedure to delay motherhood,’ Liu explained via email, ‘and I wasn’t clear why I could not make up my mind to do one or the other […] The works came out of a place of confusion and that sense of isolation.’ She is also interested in IVF’s alluring promise of time extension; egg freezing can pause the so-called biological clock, but this also feeds into capitalist pressures. ‘The world wants growth, production and results, so we try very hard to skip moments that are not productive, as if time is not worth living.’

Fischer Cherry’s deeply personal work combines the jarring scientific and emotional sides of IVF. For her 2017 installation Fertility, the artist displayed vials and syringes on lead-crystal cake stands that had belonged to her grandmother, positioning used medical supplies as museum artefacts. The piece challenged romanticized views of fertility, represented by goddesses and nubile bodies, instead underscoring the 21st century reality whereby medical support is often required by those who, for a host of reasons, are unable to conceive. Fertility was a response to the artist’s own IVF procedures, which were required because of long-undiagnosed, male-factor infertility.

‘From a distance, the work appears light and fluffy. When viewers realize that it is a lot of needles, they’ve told me they feel a flash of discomfort,’ Cherry tells me, highlighting the lasting physical and psychological impact of IVF. ‘The work is set up similar to a pastry shop: delicate objects positioned inside delicate glass vessels displayed on metal shelves. With any imbalance, it could all come crashing down.’ Looking back, she says the driving factor behind the work was the expectation that women are supposed to silently absorb the pain and shame of struggling to conceive.

Some artists have pictured the various forms of motherhood that IVF births. Miranda Forrester paints snug images that confront prejudice towards non-traditional family structures. Her works are formed from vibrant colours on transparent layers, suggestive of a life that is still being defined. They delve into her own experience as a non-birthing mother.

‘I think, in general, there is a lack of public understanding about how IVF works and the possibilities it offers,’ says Forrester. ‘I often see the term “birth mother” used to mean the biological mother, when sometimes, particularly with same-sex couples who have used reciprocal IVF, the birth mother isn’t the biological mother. Non-birth mothers are rendered invisible or secondary, and I think a lot of same-sex, non-birth mothers experience interactions and care that subscribes to these beliefs.’

Forrester’s intimate paintings, such as Two Mothers, One Scar and Babymoon (both 2023), show women in close contact with one another or their children. It can be difficult to connect IVF with sexuality and romance, but these pieces present ways of building attachment through touch. ‘My paintings offer quiet, insular, private moments often in domestic settings, reflecting on the beauty and warmth of queer relationships. There are plenty of ways in which to be close to your baby, before and after they are born, as a non-birthing parent […] I wanted to make large-scale, all-encompassing works that really dwell in that newborn space.’

For artists setting out on sometimes years-long IVF journeys, documentation can be a much-needed companion. Elina Brotherus’s photographic series ‘Annonciation’ (2009–13) began as a personal project, which she did not immediately intend to exhibit, but ultimately followed half a decade of treatments across four clinics in two countries. The artist presents her ongoing cycle of hope and grief as a legitimate aspect of motherhood and is featured in curator and writer Hettie Judah’s touring exhibition ‘Acts of Creation’ (2024–ongoing), in a section dedicated to loss. ‘My body is my tool and an important part of my visual vocabulary,’ says Brotherus. ‘This is why, on embarking upon IVF treatments, I wanted to document the process, not knowing the outcome but understanding it would have an impact on my body.’

The series features recurring motifs which capture the repetitive rhythm of IVF cycles that consistently lead to a negative single blue line. Pregnancy tests, fresh flowers, calendar pages and interior arches that frame her lone body loop through the series. It is an often-insular experience that millions will relate to; Brotherus’s work proves how important it is that such stories are shared. ‘Throughout the years, “Annonciation” has become the body of work on which I have received the most feedback out of everything in my career,’ she explains. ‘I have given a voice to the silent inconsolable majority, the sister- and brotherhood of failed IVFs. In public, we only hear of the success stories. It’s really hard for the 75 percent who didn’t go home with a baby.’

_{Main image: Elina Brotherus, Annonciation 25, Medication, 2012, pigment print from digital original, 30 × 45 cm. Courtesy: the artist}