Born in Salisbury (now Harare), Zimbabwe in 1955, Deirdre Saunder studied at the University of Cape Town, earning a BA in Art and a Higher Degree in Education before going to Oxford to read for a second undergraduate degree in Fine Art. In 1981, she moved to the US to take up a Knox Fellowship at Harvard University. Saunder’s career as an artist has seen her exhibit work in the US and across the world, with a particular focus on public art installations. Alongside her practice, she teaches and has held positions at the Maret School in Washington, DC and at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA. Saunder’s portrait of the Zambian human rights activist Lucy Banda-Sichone (Zambia & Somerville 1978) became the first portrait of a black female Rhodes Scholar to be hung at Rhodes House. This narrative is excerpted from an interview with the Rhodes Trust on 25 February 2026.
Deirdre Saunder
Rhodesia & Somerville 1978
‘I doodled everywhere'
My parents were both born in Africa. Their parents, my grandparents, were mostly British-born. My mother’s father was in the British Army and came to Africa to fight in Egypt and the Boer War. My mother’s mother came from the UK to Africa to work in a hotel. My father’s father came over after studying at Cambridge University as a sort of Peace Corps volunteer to teach English in what was then Southern Rhodesia with his wife, my grandmother, who was Belgian. My parents met when they were both doing science PhDs at the University of Cape Town. I grew up in a very sciencey family, and all my siblings have remained in scientific fields, so I guess I’m really the black sheep of the family.
As a child, I played a lot of sports, but I also loved art. I doodled everywhere, illustrating everything from my history projects to my math. When I was 14, I had to decide whether I was going to follow the arts or a more scientific path. Given my family, I didn’t really have a choice. When I couldn’t squeeze an art class into my curriculum, my mum arranged for private lessons with Helen Lieros, who was probably the best-known artist in Zimbabwe at the time. She was an extraordinary human being and had an enormous influence on my life. I believe she was probably the main reason for me becoming an artist. In addition to my lessons, we would go and visit artists’ studios, and I remember saving all my pocket money to buy a sculpture from this one wonderful young black artist whose work I loved and who created gorgeous abstract soapstone sculptures.
On applying for the Rhodes Scholarship
When I first went to the University of Cape Town, I thought I was going to be an architect. I worked my first summer in an architect’s office, and I discovered that almost the whole firm was comprised of men. There were almost no women, and certainly no women in any position of real leadership. My job was boring and included working out how much concrete would go into holes. I decided that I didn’t want to be an architect. I wanted to paint. And so, I changed my major. I remember my father saying, ‘Okay, but as a woman, you have to be able to support yourself. Don’t rely on a man. You have to do this all on your own.’ And I said, ‘I’m going to!’
After I finished my degree, I stayed on to do a teaching diploma. It was easy, and so I spent a lot of time playing field hockey. I was chosen to be on the South African Universities’ Women’s team, and we travelled all over Europe. That was my first time in Europe, and it was an incredible experience. When I came back, I thought, ‘I just have to study there.’ I applied for every scholarship under the sun. The head of my old high school wrote and told me that I should apply for the Rhodes Scholarship. This was the first year it was open to women in Zimbabwe, and I thought, ‘Oh, I’m never going to get it,’ but as I was filling out all the other applications, I filled out that one too.
‘They decided I could be the guinea pig’
I won the Rhodes, but Oxford didn’t have a degree programme in Fine Art yet. The Ruskin School of Art was only just in the process of changing the qualification from being a diploma to being a degree. They decided that I could be the guinea pig for the new degree programme, so I started my first year as the only person in the programme. I loved every minute of my time there. I had amazing teachers and numerous visiting artists who came to talk and to critique my work. I remember David Hockney coming to my studio, and I was very nervous. At first, he didn’t say a word. But then he saw a little unfinished etching I had hanging in a corner, and said, ‘Now, this is amazing.’ He literally glossed over all my other work! It was quite funny, really. And then, for my graduation, Oxford had to make a special gown for me and a whole new passage in Latin for the ceremony!
Women were new to the Rhodes Scholarship when I was there. It was an era of big change, and we were all fighting for the rights of women. I was incredibly lucky because my college was a women’s college and we were one of the only colleges to have a resident artist, Jennifer Durrant. She actively advocated for women, as did all the other faculty there, so the support network was amazing. My advisor in Somerville was Dr Jane Bannister, who was actually a chemistry professor, but she loved art, and she and I would have these long, very interesting and fun talks. Philip Morsberger, the head of the Ruskin School at that time, was also really helpful, so I had a lot of people on my side.
‘You can really make a difference’
After graduating, I decided I didn’t want to go back to Zimbabwe. My boyfriend was still working on his PhD at Nuffield College, and so I got a job teaching at a local high school, Shiplake College for Boys. I loved the teaching, but I didn’t want to keep doing it, so I applied for scholarships again, and I ended up getting a Knox Fellowship to Harvard’s Carpenter Centre. My boyfriend got an affiliation with the Kennedy School to finish his PhD, we got married, and lived on campus as resident tutors in Kirkland House. I was given a lovely big studio and spent a lot of time with students and other artists. It was an incredible year.
After our time in Boston, my husband got a job in Washington, DC, as the Foreign Policy Advisor to a senator, and I started teaching at a little art school in Alexandria, and also at a nearby boys’ high school. A few years later, we both got resident fellowships to go to Vence, France, to paint and write. After the fellowship, we decided to stay on in France and lived in Paris for another 6 months. I rented a studio there, and I think it was during this time that I really developed a deep appreciation for public art. Paris had a lot of it, and I remember thinking, ‘I want to do this. I want to make art for everybody, not just the elite who attend gallery openings.’
When we got back to DC, I decided I wanted to try my hand at making public art. I saw an application for an artist to create a piece of public art to be placed at a community centre not far from where I lived, and I managed to be chosen for the job. But I knew nothing about the process. My proposal was to create a large mosaic snake on the walls of the Center, but I knew nothing about mosaic work, and soon came to realize that my idea had a number of structural issues too that I had not anticipated in my budget. Luck was on my side because, as I researched where to buy my materials, etc., I met and made friends with a wonderful, highly talented artist and craftsman who generously taught me how to lay tile and mosaic, and helped me finish the project. He earned almost nothing, and I learned so much, but he has helped me on every project I have ever done since then, and hopefully I have made up for what he didn’t make on the first project! Making public art and working with the communities in which the public art is placed has been a great joy in my life. Hearing people say, ‘I go past your art every day to work, and it lifts my spirits.’
My portrait of Lucy Banda-Sichone came about interestingly. I had known Lucy at Somerville and been very impressed with her. She was a lovely, quiet, but strong and charismatic woman, and it was a shock to learn of her death a few years later. Ann Olivarius, who is a dear friend of mine (Connecticut & Somerville 1978), wanted to have a portrait of a woman hang in Rhodes House. Ann’s career as a lawyer has centred around women’s issues, and she has always been a powerful advocate for women. She was also very involved in the Rhodes Trust at this time. She, along with others, decided that Lucy’s portrait was to be the first female portrait to hang in Rhodes House. Ann asked me whether I would be willing to paint Lucy’s picture. I said I would love to. It was a challenge, and an incredible honour. But mostly, it was so exciting to be a part of installing the first portrait of a black woman in Rhodes House and to have that portrait be of Lucy.
‘Keep going and take every opportunity you can’
The act of creating is so important to me. One of the greatest feelings is when you have an idea and can actually bring that idea to life. I don’t think you can just make something pretty. You’ve got to really say something, or what is the point? I love the creative process, and I even love the angst and the struggle that accompanies it. It’s like adrenaline, and I love that.
I’ve certainly faced challenges around being a woman. Making art takes an extraordinary amount of time, and you really have to work extra hard to be a good mum, a good wife, and an artist. Supporting yourself financially can be difficult because it’s so often feast or famine. You just have to keep going and also take advantage of every opportunity you can. It’s getting way better now for women in the art world, but you still have to work extra hard in a world still dominated by men, have something to say and something to contribute, and you still have to prove yourself. I have two daughters, and my hope is that their journey will be easier.