Sadie Clayton: Art, Identity, and the Journey of Motherhood

Sadie Clayton is an artist, designer, and now a mother who grew up in a small town in West Yorkshire. As a mixed-race woman, she has always navigated a sense of belonging, trying to fit into both the Jamaican and white British worlds. She reflects, “I was never Black enough, never white enough.” She has grown up challenging norms, pushing boundaries, and playing with her identity and aesthetic, and at 34 years old, she continues to do so. 

With a deep love for fashion, she pursued a degree in fashion design and became a designer, later shifting her focus to the intersection of fashion and art. Sadie’s creativity knows no limits—her canvas is unrestricted, whether it’s the ceiling, the floor, or a plinth.

Designer, artist, professor, podcaster, and now a mother—how do you juggle it all?

That’s such an interesting question. It’s not something I’ve really been asked or thought about since becoming a mother. Right now, my time is consumed by my baby, and I strongly identify as a mother—but at the same time, this is a very new role for me. It’s only been eight months.

Before this, I think people saw me as inspiring because I looked different and had a different narrative. I’ve always been an educator in some way, teaching since I graduated because it felt natural to share my thought process. I also see myself as a cultural tastemaker—I engage with culture as a woman of color coming from a predominantly white space.

I’ve been with my husband for 17 years in a very stable, grounded relationship. I’ve traveled for work, experienced so much, and now, I’m bringing all these roles together. As an educator and cultural tastemaker, I feel a responsibility to create something new, to reframe perspectives. That’s what artists do, what teachers do, and what mothers do. We shape new narratives of reality.

Motherhood is an extension of that—I’m educating my child while learning how to be a mother myself. I’m still an artist because I’m still creating, and right now, that includes raising my little human, Koa. Being a mother to a son, I want to be significant. Spontaneity isn’t really a thing anymore; I have to plan, structure, and be practical in ways I wasn’t before.

What inspires you?

I work with copper, which is inspiring in itself. It has incredible connotations—health benefits, environmental advantages, and it’s a spiritual conductor that repels negativity. But beyond that, I’m inspired by this new version of myself, this transition into motherhood.

Take breastfeeding, for instance. I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to do it, and now I’m at the point where I want to stop but have to practice patience. My artwork reflects these shifts. My first piece was about independence—one strand, just me. The piece I created for the Cure3 exhibition at Bonhams was about the cord of three strands—fashion, art, and family (my husband and my baby). My latest work also has a single strand, but it twists and turns, reflecting the unpredictability of motherhood. Right now, that’s my biggest inspiration—navigating this new season of life.

Can you tell us about your practice?

People spend their lives searching for purpose, and once you find it, everything aligns—your goals, your narrative, your work. I’ve found my purpose in motherhood and in uplifting a community through my art. I want people to look at my work and feel something—rejuvenation, positivity, inspiration.

I express this across all my creations—whether small pieces, large-scale public art sculptures, or the products I design. I also want to expand my workshops. I’ve led sessions at the Cambridge Museum and LinkedIn headquarters, and it’s amazing to see non-creative people tap into creativity and produce something beautiful in such a short time. That transformation—that’s part of my purpose.

You were recently selected for the Cure3 exhibition, which raises funds for Parkinson’s. How did that opportunity come about?

My mum always told me, “If you don’t ask, you don’t get,” and that’s how all my projects come to life—whether Cure3 or the Royal Academy exhibitions. The worst thing anyone can say is no. So why not ask?

I instill that mindset in my students too. A great example is when I worked with Sophia the Robot, the world’s most famous humanoid. I first saw her on the cover of Stylist magazine while I was still a fashion designer, and I thought, I want this robot to wear Sadie Clayton.

I reached out multiple times—no response. Then I found the owner of the company on LinkedIn and messaged him directly. That led to a collaboration, a trip to Shanghai, opening fashion week, and working together at an AI conference. The takeaway? Keep knocking on doors.

Has motherhood changed your artistic practice?

Definitely. I think about things on a smaller scale now. With less time, I’m drawn to projects that don’t take as long to complete. That might sound simple, but it’s practical.

In terms of inspiration, I reflect a lot on who I am now as a mother and how I’ve evolved. But in a way, I haven’t changed—I’ve become a more focused, refined version of myself.

Can you tell us about your podcast, Black People Can’t Swim?

It started in Sri Lanka when my husband was surfing, and I realized how uncomfortable I was in the water. Back home, I took swimming lessons and noticed that everyone in my class was Black or Brown—there wasn’t a single white person.

That made me curious. I looked into it and discovered that 95% of Black and Brown adults in the UK can’t swim. Even more shocking, 85% of Black and Brown children can’t either. That’s when I knew I had to raise awareness.

I started the podcast with no backing—just me, my husband editing, and us uploading it to Apple. Then The Independent wrote about it, and it gained visibility. From there, I expanded the concept: Black People Can’t…—because how many Black people do you see skiing? How many Black pilots do you know? There are so many spaces where we lack representation.

Now, as a mother to a mixed-race child, I want to ensure there’s space for him in the world—especially in the creative industry. Black audiences are often absent from galleries and exhibitions because these spaces are historically targeted at white audiences. Accessibility is a huge issue, especially for Black and Brown families in lower-income employment. It’s not just about representation—it’s about breaking down barriers.

What challenges do you face as a Black female artist?

There are quite a few. Most gallery owners, curators, and museum directors are white, which affects representation in the industry. While there’s been a shift in what galleries showcase, much of the Black art displayed is African, leaving out other narratives.

I’m Caribbean. My experiences, upbringing, and education have shaped my practice in a unique way. I’ve faced inequalities, but my work isn’t about struggle—it’s about celebrating life, transformation, and rejuvenation. There’s this expectation that Black artists must always center trauma. I want to move beyond that.

What improvements are needed for more inclusivity in the arts?

Workshops. That’s my educator side speaking, but workshops are vital. We need more activations for young people to make art an integrated part of their lives.

For my generation, I want more opportunities for group shows, collaborative projects, and ways to give back. Events like the Venice Biennale feel so out of reach—why should they be? These should be accessible to all artists.

What’s next for you?

I’ll be exhibiting at the Collect Art Fair at Somerset House from February 27th to March 2nd.

Keep up with Sadie on Instagram: @imsadieclayton and on her website: http://sadieclayton.co.uk/