The women hang in galleries and museums as idealised beings. We are young, smooth, slim and hairless. Virtuous, sinuous and remote. We embody myths, fairy tales, biblical stories and allegories. We are saints, goddesses and seductresses. We are beautiful, we are wicked, we are holy we are unattainable. We are almost always a type. We are never ourselves.
This is the portrayal of over ninety percent of the women who hang in acclaimed museums across the world. Largely portrayed by men.
Through this collection of portraits I am inspired to portray a more ‘truthful’ version of women. Describing all the love, longing and horror of the female experience.
The heartache and losses of the female experience are so often met with silence and braved alone. Infidelity. The loss of a child, miscarriage, stillbirth, abortion. Change of body and beauty. Friendships, growth and loss. Jealousy. Motherhood (or absence of). Family, guilt. Watching your parents grow old and pass.
These paintings explore the honesty of the female experience. The silent pain as a rite of passage, that lives within our eyes and hearts.
The flowers adorning her celebrate femininity in all stages and the fragility of life. They are cause for celebration; the silent sisterhood to which we all belong.
“I paint the flowers so they will not die.”
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