But her portrait transcends her personal narrative. It resonates with every woman who has felt the duality of being noticed and ignored—the writer whose novels are deemed “dated,” the entrepreneur dismissed before her pitch begins, or the 50-year-old struggling for job interviews.

“I want it to be a celebration; I don’t want it to be seen as a moan or a scream of loss,” she insists. Through her art, Myerscough redefines invisibility as a potential superpower.

Being less visible does not equate to being less impactful. In fact, invisibility can foster empathy and inspire a broader understanding of the world. For Myerscough, it offers the freedom to engage with life on her own terms.

“I think you can now (with older age), choose whether to be seen or not, which is a freedom rarely afforded to the young,” she explains. “Every age has its uniforms, cliches, acts of individuality, but they are all signals of belonging to a particular tribe.”

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Beyond the canvas, Myerscough draws inspiration from women who craft distinctive personas, like Iris Apfel with her oversized glasses or Anna Wintour’s signature bob. “By adopting a character, you become ageless,” she muses. “It’s an armour, a disguise, a way to stop the clock.”

Yet, societal rules remain restrictive, especially around how older women express their sexuality. “Older female sexiness creates unease. But this is less about gender and more about ageism,” she notes.

Myerscough’s keen observations extend to her experiences in social settings and the art world, where older women are often dismissed. “It’s not paranoia,” she asserts. “It’s openly displayed.” She recalls a moment of irony: “Once, a man who had publicly ignored me realised who I was and apologised profusely. The dynamic shifts when you become ‘someone’ worth noticing.”

While progress has been made, Myerscough acknowledges persistent challenges.

“Things are changing, but old attitudes take time to die.”

Her introspection is not confined to her own experience. Through her work, Myerscough explores life’s impermanence and the universal complexities of relationships. Her painting Broken Bowl, 2023 depicts a shattered heirloom gifted by her mother. “When it broke, it was like reliving my mother’s death,” she says. “Objects carry so much emotional weight.”

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Similarly, her portraits of her children reflect the bittersweet nature of parenthood. “Watching them grow is both a wonder and a grief,” she says. “Their independence is exhilarating, but it also creates a lamentable loss.”

Despite these hurdles, Myerscough’s resilience remains undimmed. “We have to find a new strength,” she says. “Every day is no longer the youthful adventure it once was, but it’s still unknown.” She punctuates this thought with a mantra: “We have to pick ourselves up and ‘prance like a pony.’” The phrase captures her approach to life—embracing the absurdity, the joy, and the unpredictability of existence.

Through Myerscough’s lens, the complexities of ageing are not a loss but a transformation—a shedding of one form of visibility for another kind of presence. As she concludes, “Document the now. Don’t loiter in the past or project to the future; it is never what you imagined it would be.” Her art serves as an enduring example that being less seen doesn’t mean being less significant. If anything, it’s an opportunity to redefine how—and why—women want to be seen.

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