The permanant exhibition held upstairs in the Gallery brings together the raw, honest, and deeply moving work of survivors, frontline workers, volunteers, and allies of Phoenix WoMen’s Aid.
Each piece you see here is more than art. It is a story. A memory. A moment of pain, survival, or strength. Created by those who have walked through fear, isolation, control, and loss - many of whom are survivors themselves, these artworks reflect the complexity of abuse and the courage it takes to speak out.
Below is just a small selection of the pieces we hold in this space.
FGM
Female Genital Mutilation is illegal globally, but some communities in 30 countries still carry out this barbaric ritual.The NHS report that from January to March 2025, there were 2,245 individual patient attendances in the UK where FGM was identified.
This artwork confronts the brutal reality of female genital mutilation (FGM)—a violation performed under the guise of tradition, purity, or control. At the centre of the piece is a floral mandala, made entirely of sculpted female labia, beautiful, complex, and organic. It forces the viewer to see the vulva not as obscene or hidden, but as something natural, delicate, and worthy of artistic reverence.
Surrounding this intimate bloom are silver razor blades, starkly embedded in each corner of the frame. They are tools of violence, framing the flower with the constant threat of harm. Their placement suggests entrapment, and their association with FGM is chilling - used to remove, to mutilate, to claim control over a body that is not theirs to touch.
This piece is both a memorial and a protest. It honours those who have survived, those still silenced, and those lost. It says what many dare not: this happens, and it must be named, seen, and stopped.
Artist: Vesta
Phoenix
Created from pinecones, this was the first Phoenix sculpture gifted to the charity, which inspired this art exhibition. The Phoenix bird in mythology, symbolises the powerful image of surviving Domestic Abuse, rising from the ashes.
This sculptural phoenix is made entirely from pinecones, delicately arranged to form a majestic bird mid-rise - wings outstretched, head lifted skyward. The texture of each cone mimics feathers: rough, layered, and resilient. Though the phoenix is a creature of flame, this version is grounded in earth; built from nature’s debris, the fallen, the overlooked.
Each pine cone once carried the potential for new growth. Here, they’ve been transformed into something symbolic and eternal. The bird seems to carry the forest with it, suggesting that rebirth doesn’t always come from fire, sometimes it comes from what’s left behind.
This phoenix doesn’t just rise - it is reclaimed, repurposed, reborn.
Artist: Fred Kay
Eggshells
The barefoot inner child sprinting away, through the eggshells with modest possessions in one bag. Despite the vulnerability caused by the abuse, this artwork radiates a sense of motion, of courage, freedom and transformation.
I left with only a bag, but carried all my courage.
This sculptural piece shows a barefoot child-like figure sprinting through rubble and flames, gripping a white bag, a modest possession that may hold the only belongings they could take. Though the figure appears as a child, the surrounding words reveal a powerful truth: this is an adult who was made to feel powerless and small in an abusive relationship.
The white bag represents more than physical belongings, it becomes a symbol of emotional weight, memory, or the minimal survival tools taken during escape. It may also speak to the way many survivors leave with little, not just materially, but emotionally - forced to start over from the ground up.
The shattered eggshells and fractured floor suggest the fragility of the life they’re breaking free from, while the flames indicate the emotional trauma left in their wake. And yet; they are moving forward.
Despite the brokenness, confusion, and regression caused by abuse, this piece radiates a sense of motion, courage, and transformation.
Beauty And The Beast
This mixed media is layered with allegory, texture and contradiction. It tells a story of duality, danger and survival through the visceral collision of two faces.
One face is a soft, feminine figure, lips parted as if in warning or defiance; the other is a distorted, animalistic beast, eyes wide, mouth screaming, teeth bared; dripping with rage.
A mass of coarse black fur blurs the boundary between them, suggesting that the beast and the man are not separate, but entwined. It is unclear where one ends and the other begins, this is not a fairy tale where love redeems him, but a more truthful version, where violence and tenderness coexist in dangerous proximity.
Below them, embedded in a lush forested background, we see a terrified woman hiding, and a beast hunting, bringing to life the terror that lives behind closed doors. It’s not a metaphor - it’s a cycle. The face above is not just symbolic, it’s personal.
The surrounding frame of vines, roses, butterflies, and wildflowers twists around the violence like a deceptive fairytale border, beauty growing over trauma, concealing it, romanticising it, or perhaps reclaiming it.
This piece asks: What happens when love turns monstrous? When the beast lives not in a castle, but at home?
Artist: Fred Kay
251
This piece honours the 251 lives lost to domestic homicide between 2020 and 2024 - seen through the eyes of a child who still holds on, even when their loved one has become a memory.
This piece is a visual tribute to the 251 people killed in domestic homicides across the UK between 2020 and 2024. A child embraces a starred silhouette, a figure no longer present but deeply loved. The silhouette, faceless and celestial, represents the enduring absence left by such violence: the parent, sibling, or carer who is no longer there to hold them back. The stars evoke both memorial and mythology - a reminder that, to the ones left behind, these lost lives shine on, even in darkness. The child’s gesture of love is not only one of grief, but of resilience, memory, and unbreakable connection. This piece asks us not only to remember the victims, but to consider the invisible legacy left behind in every family affected.
Artist: Anne Ward
11
This piece honours the 11 children lost to domestic homicide between 2020 and 2024 - through the heartbreak of those left behind, and the innocence that should have been protected.
This piece pays tribute to the 11 children killed in domestic homicides in the UK between 2020 and 2024. A child reaches up to wipe away the tears of an adult - a moment of tenderness and role reversal that exposes the deep emotional fractures left behind. The adult’s eye, weeping with grief, captures the anguish of loss, while the child’s gesture reminds us that even in the darkest spaces, love persists. But this is love in the shadow of tragedy. No child should ever be in the position to offer comfort in the aftermath of violence - especially not when they are its victim. This piece stands as a quiet protest, a call to remember the youngest voices, often silenced before they had the chance to speak.
Artist: Anne Ward
Corrosive Silence
In 2024, there were 498 physical attacks recorded in the UK that involved corrosive substances. Acid attacks are symptomatic of power and control as is the objectification of the female torso. The vibrancy of the work depicts the beauty and resilience of survivors in the face of adversity.
This mannequin represents a woman who has been reduced to an object, her body used in place of her voice or agency. The face painted on her torso confronts the idea that abusers don’t see her as a full person, only a possession to be controlled or destroyed. The melting face refers to the brutal reality of acid attacks, symbolising not only physical pain, but a targeted attempt to erase identity, visibility, and value. The drips and distortions are intentional - they deform what made her recognisable, human, and whole.
The lower body covered in colourful paints creates a harsh contrast, representing either a desperate attempt to restore beauty, or the emotional chaos that remains after such trauma. Together, these elements reveal the violent truth behind appearances, control, and survival.
Artist: Vesta
Take The Pill
This striking piece explores the complex relationship between identity, control, and medication.
At its centre, a fragmented figure with vivid pink hair stands both defiant and overwhelmed, their body constructed from prescription notes, labels, and written thoughts.
Surrounding them, pills and medical imagery bloom like both flowers and restraints, blurring the line between healing and harm.
The repeated phrases and chaotic background echo intrusive voices and external pressures, suggesting a loss of autonomy and the weight of being defined by treatment rather than self.
Both visually intense and deeply personal, the work captures the tension between survival and suppression, asking the viewer to reflect on who holds control and at what cost.
Artist: Nightmare Cat (Cat Wood)
Letter To Self
This piece is a personal letter written by a client of Phoenix WoMen's Aid, offering a quiet yet powerful reflection on survival, healing, and self-worth.
Written as a message to oneself, it speaks to the long and often unseen journey of overcoming emotional pain, trauma, and self-doubt. The gentle, handwritten style contrasts with the weight of its words, creating an intimate and deeply human connection between the artist and the viewer. It acknowledges the reality of struggle while reaffirming strength, resilience, and the courage it takes to keep moving forward.
More than a letter, it becomes an act of self-compassion - a reminder that healing is not linear, and that even in the hardest moments, choosing to continue is an act of bravery.
Artist: Anonymous Survivor
Inside I’m Dying
This art piece depicts survival – Pain and Hope
This painting captures the moment she thought would be her last, not from choice, but because he tried to kill her. The swirling darkness mirrors the terror and trauma flooding her mind, while the flower is fragile and broken, bleeds red. That blood is hers.
The flower hangs low, near collapse. But notice the hint of light in its petal, the flicker of life still inside her, even when he believed he had taken it.
She survived, she is still breathing, he didn’t win.
This piece captures the terrifying moment when the artist truly believed she would not survive.
The swirling background represents the chaos and trauma consuming her mind – the darkness she felt trapped inside as she fought for her life. The flower at the centre is delicate and slumped, bleeding deep red drops that symbolise her own blood. These aren’t metaphors – he made her bleed. He tried to kill her.
She believed she was taking her final breath. The pain was so real, the fear so overwhelming, it felt like she was fading into nothing. The darkness closing in.
But notice the subtle light still clinging to the flower. That glow represents hope. Even in the midst of brutal violence, even when it seemed like there was no escape, something inside her held on. And against all odds – she survived.
This is not a story of loss – it’s a story of resistance, of breath still being taken. A woman who is still here.
Artist: Anonymous Survivor