I HAVE LIMITATIONS
I have always thought that my art was completely separate from my experience as a woman.
To be continuously titled a woman or female artist irks me. I have often defined my art as separate from that identity:
“I’m not a feminist artist.” - maybe I am just by doing what I do!
I am a feminist, of course, which to me simply means believing in equal opportunities for every human being to thrive within the body they live in.
But perhaps this insistence that “I’m not a female artist, I’m an artist” is, in some way, my own internalised sexism. Of course I’m a female artist. My work is informed by academic research as well as my experience of the world, and I experience that world through a female body.
I have limitations.
For a moment, I’m going to ignore the systemic limitations placed on women because, let’s face it, we all know they exist… well, I hope you do. If not, call me for a chat.
I’m talking about the limitations of my body. My body works in its own way, different from every other woman on the planet. It has physical and mental limitations that influence when I can and cannot make art. I’ll probably fill you in on those details another time.
So yes, the overarching theme of my practice is human connection, explored through technology, science, spirituality, and ancient history. But the experience of womanhood, and the social realities that come with it, intersect, sometimes loudly, sometimes quietly.
Most of the time, I don’t place my existence in a female body at the centre of a work. But sometimes I do.
Vessel, Foreign Body, and The Creation of the Virtual Venus, to name a few, are works about womanhood, about living inside this body and navigating what that feels like.
I am an artist who operates within this world inside a female body.
The lens through which I am seen, the way I navigate the world, and the limitations placed on me externally, internally, and physically all inform my existence. And therefore, whether consciously or not, they inevitably find their way into my practice.