Basking in Refracted Glory

Think that the history of science is a wholly male affair?

A new project I've just launched on Kickstarter aims to highlight women scientists and change perceptions of women's historical role in the sciences.

From Socrates, who thoughts that women's character possessed "a sort of natural deficiency", through to the doctors who thought women's access to higher education would lead to ‘anorexia scolastica’  a debilitating thinness and weakness resulting from too much mental stimulus, there have been many barriers preventing participation in the sciences.

Despite this, these women rose to prominence in their field and I think they ought to be better known. Hence this project 'Basking in Refracted Glory', celebrating their achievements, researching their lives and sharing this with the world.

More info here - http://kck.st/1OCwfyU

The feminine in art

I have been thinking a lot recently about gender and art, mostly in relation to an upcoming solo exhibition I’m planning (see previous post). When something is on your mind, it seems to crop up more than would be expected, but perhaps you are just more attuned to picking up on things.  An example from the past couple of weeks that caught my attention…

-        A discussion on the BBC TV programme, The Big Painting Challenge (think Britain’s Got Talent for people with talent).  A male artist paints a watercolour of an urban scene.  Upon presentation to the panel for judging, the female critic decries the work as ‘weak, feminine, wishy-washy’ and urges the chap to return to a more ‘masculine, powerful’ style of painting (I can’t find the original clip so I’m paraphrasing a bit, but the essence is there)

These comments resonate with a longstanding debate about whether there is an inherently masculine or feminine style of art. Throughout art history, when women have made art, it has often been dismissed or pigeonholed as ‘feminine’ and judged separately from the ‘masculine’ sphere of real art.  In the 16^th-19^th century, women had limited access to professional studios, training and models, which led many to specialise in portraiture, still life, flower painting, watercolours, pastel and landscape, seen by the traditional art establishment as lesser genres to large scale religious painting or history scenes.  This made it easier to identify and marginalise the ‘feminine hand’. 

As one feminist critic put it, this was “…a stratagem by which the academic establishment could differentiate women’s and men’s spheres of activity.  This institutionally constructed segregation was then represented as proof of an innate inequality of talent.”† Once a work is described as feminine, all kinds of judgements about the skill, professionalism and innate ‘genius’ of the artist is called into question. 

Subsequently, feminist readings of art history sought to challenge the notion that there is an innate difference between male and female artists, only the differences that have been brought to bear by culture laid over our expectations of art.  This idea should have been firmly backed up by the diversity of art made by men and women in the 20^th century. However, it seems that in relation to the example above there still is an association of the female hand with weakness and inferiority to the male.

I can see where the panel judge was coming from – the painting lacked substance, was not a bold treatment of the subject matter and the chap had produced far better work in the medium. However, to associate these characteristics with the word feminine does no favours to female artists past or present.

†Griselda Pollock, ‘Vision and Difference’, p44

Exhibition announcement

Time to announce a new project and my first solo exhibition!

I will be showing the ‘Woman of Genius’ series at Maidstone Museum and Bentlif Art Gallery alongside a curated selection of pre-20^th century female artists, during March and April 2016.

I have been working on the ‘Women of Genius’ series of drawings for the past few years with the intention of using these drawings to highlight work by female artists.  These are often languishing in the store-rooms of museum collections around the country, frequently unexhibited, underappreciated or unattributed.

Maidstone Museum has work by Sofonisba Anguissola and Mary Beale in its collection – both of whom I have been researching for the ‘Woman of Genius’ drawings.  As well as these better known artists, they have over 80 works by other female artists and as part of the exhibition I will be making a series of new works in response to their archives.

The project is still very much in the planning stage, but I hope to be able to explore and show a new facet of the collection of the museum, as well as highlight the historical achievements of women in the arts.

Caught in the act

I mentioned in my last post that women artists of the past were keen to picture themselves at work at their easels or drawing boards.  Not one to trust unsubstantiated statements myself, I thought I would provide a picture based post to show some of these images (There is a much larger selection to see on my Pinterest page https://www.pinterest.com/thevictoriastor/self-portraits-female-artists/).  Palette in hand, they are actively engaged in their subject.  They (nearly) all stare straight at you, not glancing coyly to the side, or gazing coquettishlly at the viewer.  They're just looking, getting on with it, active.

To see women as active doers in an historical painting is refreshing. So often, the female figure is sprawled naked, standing naked, posing stiffly in expensive fabrics or holding The Baby. Here, they have their hands on the tools of their industry, their gaze fixed ahead in concentration, looking at you, the mirror. 

Rolinda Sharples and her Mother, probably telling her off for not keeping her back straight. 

Judith Leyster. "Hey, come on in but don't disturb my painting"

Sofonisba Anguissola, keeping a straight face

Anna Marie Ellenrieder, looking intently stage left

Rosalba Carriera, showing off the goods

Adelaide Labille-Guiard, passin' on the knowledge to the sisterhood

Henriette Lorimier, sketching in her negligee

Giovanni Fratellini, throwing a casual glance

Thoughts on a Portrait

'Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting' Artemisia Gentileschi


It's such an arresting image - the artist lost in her work, staring intently at her painting, probably scrutinising an eye that doesn't look quite in the right direction, or a curl of the lip not adequately expressed.

Artists like to picture themselves at work, but particularly the female ones it seems. It's as if to say 'yep, it's really me doing the painting - I'm not the muse here, or some prostitute dragged in to model, or the wife of someone important. I am the doer.' But in no portrait, male or female is this spirit of 'doing' more self-evident than in the ' Self-Portrait as Allegory of Painting', by Artemisia Gentileschi. Most at least interrupt their studies at the canvas to gaze at the viewer, which, let us be honest here, is really a mirror. But admire the set-up that allowed the artist to portray herself at that angle, on her side, half from above. Even setting up a camera to capture that angle proved a challenge and one that I still failed to quite get right when trying to recreate the image. Doing that from mirrors must have presented myraid challenges.

Perhaps the intensity of concentration is intended to convey her seriousness. No cosseted daughter of the aristocracy lies before you, painting just to show off her accomplishment. This is a woman serious about her painting and intent on letting you know that too. You are not meant to admire her skill in dressing, or her fine headgear or elegant jewellery. Her hair is messy, unstyled and falling loose around her face; there's the hint of a sheen of sweat on her face. She's too involved to look up, or acknowledge the viewer.

It stands out when seen in the context of an art gallery - in this case, the Cumberland Art Gallery at Hampton Court Palace, surrounded by other figures and portraits. It strives to be different, to prove something. It doesn't sit back on its laurels, knowing that it's good enough. It grabs your attention by being different to the rest, like the lone female in a room full of chaps.




'Self Portrait as an Allegory of Artemisia' Vicki Cooke 2015
Currently on display at Hogarth House, Chiswick, til March '15

Then and now

As this is the first post, perhaps I should briefly introduce myself and this project.  I have been researching the lives and works of female artists, initially focussed on the late Renaissence to the mid 1800s. I have been making a series of works in response to this (www.vickicooke.com) and this blog hopes to capture some of my thoughts during the process.

I have spent a lot of time looking at the lives and struggles of women artists from the past, and wondering how much of this is relevent to women working today.  Women now are very much a feature of the art world and there are many famous names one could use to back up the hypothesis that there are now equal opportunities for men and women in the arts.  However, this data piece from the Guardian website on women's representation in the art world shows up many of the disparities that still exist.

No. of women artists in the top 100 sellers at Sotheby's - 0

Percentage of public art commissions by women - 14%

Percentage of women artists represented in the Tate Modern - 17%

Perhaps hidden behind the headline-grabbing famous names, the same gender barriers persist.  The women artists of the past were often famous in their lifetimes, feted by critics and commissioned by royalty.  Sofonisba Anguissola was headhunted by the King of Spain to be his official court painter, Judith Leyster ran a successful and well respected studio and Angelika Kauffman was one of the original Royal Academicians.  However, they have slipped into obscurity as time passed and their names are barely known by audiences today.  

How do we know that this will not be the fate of today's women artists?  In 200 years time, will researchers be painstakingly trying to piece together the life and work of Rachel Whiteread and Cornelia Parker, based on a few surviving fragments?

Fragment: Chiara Varotari, Vicki Cooke, 2013