‘Sophie Haydock delivers another sizzling story of the art world, where sidelined women take centre stage. It’s an immersive tale of muses, betrayal, sex and bad behaviour’

― DAILY MAIL

 Sophie Haydock’s novels

 
 

Discover Sophie Haydock’s Substack, Forbidden Art

 

 Work with Sophie Haydock

 

Sophie Haydock is an award-winning author, book festival curator and journalist, known for her powerful storytelling and bold exploration of hidden histories.

She appears at leading literary festivals, bookshops and cultural events to speak about writing, art and the women history tried to silence — bringing emotional depth, sharp insight and a gift for connection.

Get in touch to collaborate, commission or invite her to speak

 Sophie Haydock’s Instagram

 
View fullsize “I like your Matisse,” she said, the first time. He looked blank. ‘The pink nude. I love her.’ ‘Oh, that. I saw it in a shop. I thought it went exactly with the colour-scheme I was planning.’ Their eyes met in
View fullsize In May, I spent two weeks on a schooner navigating uncharted waters in the Arctic Circle, with twenty nine strangers (who quickly became friends), as part of a challenging but overwhelmingly epic creative expedition. Artists danced naked in front o
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View fullsize WOOHOO! They’ve landed! 🎉 Just hours before the official launch party at 6pm tonight (if you’re in Folkestone, you’re welcome to come along! 🍷) - the Folkestone Book Festival 2025 print programmes are finally here. We were told t
View fullsize Lydia Delectorskaya - calm, composed, and radiant in Matisse’s Purple Robe and Anemones (1937). I kept returning to this painting while writing Madame Matisse. Something about the way Lydia sits there, still but gently effervescent — sur
View fullsize This haunting fish-bone photograph by Francesca Woodman was used for the cover of Natural Histories by Guadalupe Nettel — a collection of strange, shimmering short stories that I absolutely loved. Each tale speaks to the quiet tension between t
View fullsize Forbidden Art is my new Substack. It’s a space for the stories I can’t stop thinking about — the ones that stir up controversy, challenge the rules, and ask big, uncomfortable questions about beauty, shame, censorship and power. It
View fullsize Something incredible is on the horizon. A rare opportunity - and one I feel incredibly lucky to have. This time next month, I’ll be flying to Svalbard - a remote archipelago just 10 degrees from the North Pole - to take part in The Arctic Circ
View fullsize Henri Matisse painted a whole series of “open window” scenes during his life - some filled with shadow and melancholy, others quieter and more introspective. But this one, Open Window, Collioure (1905), bursts with colour, energy and po
View fullsize It’s been brought to my attention that I need to balance out my cat ratios… So here’s the other half of the cat duo - Mud, short for Mudlark - sister of Moss, and an excellent cat in her own right. Possessor of the best tiny teeth
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View fullsize Matisse’s Goldfish (1912) – painted not just as a still life, but as a meditation on calm, colour and contemplation. He kept goldfish in bowls in his studio, inspired by his trips to Morocco, mesmerised by the way they drifted through th
View fullsize I had such a lovely time at the Hatchards event for Madame Matisse last month. I was in conversation with the wonderful @thatemilyhowes (who wrote the incredible The Painter’s Daughters), who asked such brilliant, insightful questions. It was
View fullsize This iconic photograph of Henri Matisse, taken by Henri Cartier-Bresson in Vence in 1944, was the spark that inspired my novel Madame Matisse. In it, Matisse sits, cradling a white bird in his left hand while sketching it with his right - sunlight s
View fullsize Secrets of the Thames officially opened yesterday at the Museum of London Docklands, curated by Kate Sumnall. As a mudlark, the River Thames holds a special place in my heart - and it often finds its way into my writing too. My short story Mudlarks
View fullsize Matisse’s The Snail (1953) has always intrigued me. Why did he choose these forms and colours? Why did he see a snail in this joyful, abstract swirl? Every decision feels so deliberate. It was one of the final works he ever made, age 84, fu