Essay // ‘I Am the Sun’ or ‘Two People in a Room’
How painting men shifted my center of gravity in relation to half of the planet
by Elizabeth Bergeland
EXCERPT //
I’ve been painting men, almost exclusively, for a little over a year and a half now.
I made this shift in my work for many reasons. In part, it came out of that low-level, alway-buzzing frustration and anger most women feel toward “men,” i.e., that nebulously defined, nefarious form we vaguely—exasperatedly!—and knee-jerkedly refer to as “the patriarchy.”
For me, the anger comes from the fact that women, usually nude, are most often depicted in paintings made by the hands of men. I thought, you know what... I’m gonna put you in the canvas.
Also, I’m tired of the weekly headlines that read, “Female Artists Represent Just 2 Percent of the Market” or “The Market for Work by Women Doubled Over the Past Decade. But it’s Still Less Than the Total Sales for Picasso.”
It’s just so depressing.
I was also curious. What would it feel like, as a woman, to be painting men? What would it feel like for the men to be painted by a woman? There were other reasons contributing to my shift toward painting men—more personal reasons. I have been slowly watching my son (now 12 years old) stop hugging his (male) friends or holding their hands, something he always used to do. I also see him fight—with everything he has—to stop or hide tears if those tears arrive while we’re in public, while my daughters still show their emotions unreservedly. It’s actually heartbreaking to watch. What a loss to feel like you can’t be affectionate with your friends when you want to be.
This was causing a bit of a panic in me. Where was he learning these “be a man,” “suck it up” sorts of behaviors?
There was one more thing drawing me toward the subject matter of men, a counter-balance to the nebulous anger: I was really missing platonic male friendship. //
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