Aspirations of futuristic lifestyles, flying cars and an uncanny resemblance to Futurama dystopia never came to fruition, the 21st century is nothing anybody anticipated, yet technology is on the rise and the ever-impending doomsday of AI lifeforms is on the horizon. Politics, however, has progressed, we see motions of improvement with regards to gender equality and people are now stepping off their high horses and realising not everybody can afford a full tank of petrol and a Waitrose food shop. Yet, women are still not the flavour of the month when it comes to the art world. We are often in our white-manly predecessors’ limelight. The manly artists that are tube fed into your bloodstream at high school, the Van Goghs, Picassos, Da Vincis, you know, ‘the greats’. The penis-wielding geniuses of classical art! And the only woman representation taught within art classes? Frida Kahlo, although a fantastic person, is all a generation knows.
The twentieth century was immensely important in showcasing and spotlighting female artists, we saw the emergence of O’Keefe, Bourgeois, Bonheur, Riley and Kruger, to name a few. The women’s rights marches and protests began in the latter of the twentieth century, and from there, women’s rights became more of a consideration than a dismissal. It became more of a must than a reaction-solution. You’re probably reading this and thinking, “Well this is great! Why are you still complaining?!” well curious George, if you must know. I argue women have dominated the art sector at phenomenal peaks. The frustrating part is, that we have a government that diminishes the arts and some genetic sexism is rife within art spaces.
For some reason, as a woman artist, onlookers feel that everything that is created is a form of protest, exclaiming a pivotal point within representation, that hosting an exhibition in your laundry cupboard is a discussion on oppressive feminism and unjust inequality. No, it's only there because I can’t bloody afford a studio space! As women artists, we still face judgments, we are looked at as muses seeking emotional release within our work. We are thought to all be maternal beings and if we sculpt a round object it represents a womb. We come with assumptions already made before a critique because we are women. Yet, when we do emphasise unjust inequalities, pay gaps, emotions or anything relative to our sexual freedom within our works, we are immediately looked at through seething tear-filled eyes of insecurity.
Classism and sexism are a strong connection, something that accompanies each other well, a match made in heaven. God forbid you are a working-class, single mum, attending an art course and living on a council estate. Why? If you ever want to progress within higher education, you will be in constant battle with the snobs of the art world. The ones with presumptions of your commoner accent and lifestyle. If you don’t look nor speak ‘la di da’ and cannot recite the manifestos of the greats, then sorry but you don’t stand a chance. Okay maybe I am being a little exaggerative, but in some aspects, this has truth. There are assumptions made with a class that are character assassinating. Nepotism is the best funding a contemporary artist can receive.
Its tiring being a woman in modern-day art because everybody has already established your narrative. You are expected to be a hardworking mule that projects artworks and intense theories out of all orifices yet trying to get by on a minimum wage. The romanticism that our manly predecessors once had, where art was their income, they lived and breathed creation every day is so fetched and this is why teaching these lifestyles within the modern day is somewhat damaging because this creates a fluffed-up version of being an artist when being an artist is now a financial crisis. It is not a money-sustainable lifestyle.
