Women in the Arts.

An essay on the evolving landscape, 

By Sophie Spencer 

Historically, women’s desire and capability to produce art has not been taken seriously. Women have been systematically discouraged from pursuing a career within the arts. Those who pursued anyway were often met with patronization, resentment, and dismissal. 

Up until the twentieth century, women were excluded from art through the common act of denying their access to formal training. Those who were tentatively trained often found their creative lives sidelined by expectations of marriage and motherhood. Although society has slowly been progressing, micro and macro doses of misogyny still prevail abundantly within the art world. The women artists of Te Whanganui a Tara that I spoke to described the most common dose of misogyny as being spoken over, and not having their intellectual points accepted with the same regards as a man. They have found their expertise undermined through ‘test questions’ of their knowledge in niche underground topics, and expressions of mistrust in their creative process. 

These experiences are global, and structural. Women feel driven to drop out of creative courses or unable to ask for creative advice; each instance feeds a fear of public perception for women in the creative process. This gendered imbalance of respect in the art world acts as a microcosm for how we perceive gender roles in wider society. It simultaneously reflects which women are accepted and reveals why. Although progress is being made, acknowledgement of the past is important for understanding conditions within the present.

Ruby Robertson, drawer, painter, and stamp maker.

“Women even when they are not silenced, still have a very high price for being heard.” (Women & Power, Mary Beard) 

The lack of great women artists is not because of inherent incapacity; it is because of systemic institutional and social barriers. It is not the case that women have produced less art than men, it is just simply more difficult to find. Historically, women’s art was not treated as worthy of archiving or publishing, and was commonly claimed by male relations. Where there are few women voices of representation, each is examined under a microscope. 

In a scenario where interpretation from another is crucial, it takes power to then claim that your work is worthy enough to be seen. In fear of scrutiny, as well as a lack of confidence, many great works of art from women have been disposed of instead of archived. 

Naomi Rosenblum, author of A History of Women Photographers, states that “frequently women [photographers] themselves, reflecting the attitudes of their own eras, did not regard their images as important enough to inventory and save. Unless kept safe by spouse or descendants, women’s photographs often were discarded, tucked away in the attic, or stored in a musty bin at the local historical society.” 

For many women, finding confidence to archive work had to be found without institutional backing. Access to independent archival resources has historically been a male privilege. Rosenblum proved that archives reflect whose voices have historically been heard, and whose have been dismissed. This lack of representation spreads further than photographic archiving, to photographic criticism and theory. Only a few compendiums of photographic criticism and theory in the 1970s and 1980s included work by women photographers or theorists. 

One of the leading photographers of the interwar period, Ilse Bing, claimed that “many women participated in the creation of modern photography,” yet they were largely underrepresented from critical writing about photography in the formative 1920s and early 1930s. 

The inaccessibility and exclusion of their writing makes it difficult to evaluate the extent and quality of women’s contributions to the modernist era. This erasure of women artists is not only historical, but it is also contemporary, and it is happening right under our noses. In 2022, only 25% of the art collection at the National Gallery of Australia was work by women. Yet this is still far better than the international standard—where roughly 90% of all artwork exhibited in major collections was by men. 

The most expensive painting by a woman (Georgia O’Keefe Jimson Weed/White Flower No 1) does not even rank the top 100 most expensive paintings ever sold. Additionally, these institutions severely lack representation of women artists who are not white. 

Raven Manygoats, writing for the Archives of Women Artists Research and Exhibitions (AWARE), notes that “most Native [American] art has been and continues to be made by women.” Predominantly “art produced by Native American women has been diminished. They have been regarded as outside the canon and their innovations have not been recognised.” Institutionally, Native American women’s art has been treated as “anonymous representations of entire cultures.” Further, “the indigenous artist [is] frequently treated as a foreigner in their own land”—a key refrain in indigenous art at last year’s Venice Biennale, theme: ‘Foreigners Everywhere’.. 

Women artists who are lucky enough to have their work attached to their name suffer conscious and subconscious misogynistic perceptions of their art. The women I interviewed reported unfair, gender-based criticism of their work, praises delivered with ulterior motives, and suggested improvements, by men, that would not dare to be made to their male peers.

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” (Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own) 

In an attempt to overcome societal prejudice and enter the male dominated literary world of publishing, women writers have methodically created and used mwale/androgynous pseudonyms. Mary Ann Evans used her pseudonym “George Eliot” in order for her novels to be read as seriously as her male counterparts. Although women writers were published in her time, their work was diminished by stereotypes of ‘flowery’ lighthearted romances. Eliot, by contrast, discussed topics that collectively led many readers to picture her as a kindly country clergyman. 

Eliot’s incognito was broken after her first novel Adam Bede in 1859. Yet she preferred to remain published under George Eliot to keep the social scandal of her private life as Mary Ann Evans from becoming intertwined from her professional life as a writer. Eliot’s story reflects many women’s inherently natural need to create. She defied and broke into a system that would have ultimately rejected her based on her gender. Aware of the same social constraints of being a woman writer, Jane Austen hid her unfinished work from others. A creaky door outside the general sitting area where she wrote at Chawton signalled to Austen that someone was coming; she objected to having it replaced as it gave her enough time to hide her half finished manuscripts. 

When your voice is less common it stands out more. Austen was aware of this, and hid her work until she had a perfect manuscript. Although Austen initially published anonymously, it was still famously published “By A Lady.” Today, many women artists still find it difficult to share the inbetween process of their work. In interview with Aspen Jackson, actress, screen printer, and student at Te Herenga Waka, she remarks “I’m happy with what I’ve come up with but I definitely don’t like showing people until it’s done and one hundred percent it’s much easier to share with women part way through the process.” 

We also discussed the difficulty of speaking in a public sphere. As women, we know that every word we say matters and will be questioned subconsciously. In classes, there are times where Aspen has a point to say but, while thinking of how to articulate it correctly, a man will beat her to it but “half bake it.” He has the systematic confidence that comes with being a man. 

I asked Aspen “Do you think they get just as much of a good reaction? As to if you have a fully articulated point but they have a half baked one but they just articulate it well” which she replied “or even a better reaction. Like I feel like a lot of the time when women answer questions intellectually we get an ‘um yeah no’ but guys they don’t receive that same [reaction] they get a ‘yeah that’s good, what else?’” What they say is met with acceptance even if it is the same point a woman will make. There might be the same miniscule flaw yet it will not be questioned like the woman's. 

Unable to hide under pseudonyms due to the fact they’re almost completely on display, musicians who are also women struggle to break into genres that have historically been dominated by men. The music industry stereotypes women and the roles they can and can not hold. It favors women who write music

about the preferred experience of being a woman over women who write about the experience of being a human. 

Singer-songwriter and composer Björk claimed “women in music are allowed to be singer songwriters singing about their boyfriends,” going on to say that “if they change the subject matter to atoms, galaxies, activism, nerdy math beat editing or anything else other than being performers singing about their loved ones they get criticized.” Cultural perceptions of gender have been instrumental in painting these barriers. Women feel a pressure to fit a mold in order to get noticed. From their wardrobes to their lyrics it’s a systemic problem rooted in misogynistic exploitation. It’s capturing women and restricting their fame and public interest under a certain coloured spotlight. 

In rock and roll, women were originally typecasted as backup singers because they were believed to not have the technical ability to entertain center stage. Naturally, this disrespected and discouraged many women in music, and unfortunately, it is still a problem today. The local artists I interviewed recalled moments where their knowledge was tested and belittled, making them feel it’s easier to “just be quiet” as men “dominate the space.” This domination leads to moments where, as Elly Mae Lawson, local musician and student at Te Herenga Waka, recalls, “I find myself in a position where I’m talking to guys who do music, and I’ll be the only female there, or one of the few ones there, and I can’t really be a part of the conversation. I don’t know why but it’s really hard to be a part of the conversation” and “when there’s a lot of them, they just won’t really listen to you. You seem like you’re invisible.” In some moments, these men test women artists' knowledge; both Jackson and Lawson stated there were times where it became evident that they did not know as much as they alluded. 

In music, women’s talents are also unwelcome and overlooked. In the top one hundred of The Rolling Stones The 250 Greatest Guitarists of All Time, only eleven are women; it’s also important to note that nine of those eleven women are also white and all are cisgender. Although the industry is slowly progressing and holding events that only showcase women artists. These events create a safe space for women artists to gain and build a platform. They can eventually lead to normalising women creating music outside of their stereotyped form and genre.

The concept of “the muse” is prevalent in the discussion of women in the arts. The use of the term “muse” has become paradoxical to its origin; it derives from the Greek word “Mousa” (singular) which means “art” or “poetry.” The plural form, “Moûsai” refers to the nine goddesses of music, literature, and science. The muses were sources of knowledge that provided divine inspiration for mortals to create works of art. Definitively, they were active subjects, creators, paradoxes to muse’s modern reference where the muse is passive and objectified. 

The modern muse is typically a woman, still a source of inspiration, but a powerless object emblematic to idealised standards of beauty. The artist commands the active role in the relationship with the muse. Therefore the muse is unfairly subjected to the role of an ornament which the artist can project his deepest desires, and fantasies on; which he fears to model on himself. Male artists such as Hans Bellmer and Yves Klein mechanistically maneuvered their muses’ (women) bodies as if they were dolls. They framed them in vulnerable positions for their art; positions they would not risk criticism to put themselves in. 

In response to their work, artist Carolee Schneemann began work in 1963 that used her own body as a muse for her art. She was inspired by “negative feelings about the use of women’s bodies by some contemporary artists” and created work that was a form of resistance. She made herself vulnerable, creating these works of her naked body as an act of reclamation—yet this was difficult for many to comprehend. Schneeman revealed that women could not make art in a way that opposed the patriarchal ideals of a woman, unless it was a muse being directed by a man: “if you were an attractive young woman, you couldn’t add another subversive energy; you had to ensure that your body behaved in a way that conformed to patriarchal expectations. So that was a big struggle and I didn’t know that it would be such a set of contradictions for so long: that my use of the naked body would not belong to my work, not belong to my authority.” 

It is the unfortunate truth that women artists are restricted by the power of men. Dora Maar, commonly known as “Picasso’s muse” was a photographer and painter—but her association with Picasso overshadowed these own creative talents. His work documents his womanising and mistreatment of women which naturally affected Maar’s professional and personal life. In The Paris Review in 2017, Picasso’s granddaughter, Marina Picasso spoke out on his treatment of his muses “He tamed them, bewitched them, ingested them, and crushed them onto his canvas. After he had spent many nights extracting their essence, once they were bled dry, he would dispose of them.” Maar herself stated “All [Picasso’s] portraits of me were lies” and “not one is Dora Maar.” 

Yet, when Dora Maar died in 1997, the media did not highlight her creative endeavors as the most interesting aspect of her life and instead spotlighted her work with Picasso. The New York Times titled her “a muse of Picasso,” and The Independent suggested she would be “remembered as the most poignant of Pablo Picasso’s mistresses.” It is a depressingly common occurrence where women’s own art is shadowed by their relation to a man’s work or even just their close relation to any man. Surrealist painter and novelist, Leonora Carrington was widely known as “Max Ernet’s muse,” when she was asked what she thought of it, she spoke for all women artists in saying, “I thought it was bullshit. I didn’t have time to be anyone’s muse. I was too busy rebelling against my family and learning to be an artist.”

Carrington rejected the idea of being diminished to another’s genius. In an Met Museum audio tour titled Museums Without Men, British Art Historian, Katy Hessel discusses how museum wall’s artist description for Leonora Carrington can’t go without mentioning her lover Max Ernst: 

“Well, she’s so much more than that. And should women be considered muses? Yes, that might be an element of what they do. They might be a subject, which is an exciting, interesting aspect of their career. But also they were artists first and foremost.”A way to move forward is by contextualising women artists as artists first—with the paths that took them to success. Then, if it is relevant to contextualise their art with a relation to a man then it must come second. Women artists are much more than their relation to a man, and must be regarded as such. 

Although it is exhausting reading about the mistreatment of women in the arts, acknowledgement has led to significant change. It has put pressure on the industries that fuel the mistreatment into working on creating an equal playing field where gender does not matter over talent. Changes have been made, yet there are still areas where they can be advanced further by listening to women artists with a matter of respect. Make art with a woman without an ulterior motive. Go to a woman artists gig, exhibition, play etc. and admire her work. Don’t mention what you would have added or done instead. Meditate on the artists you consume, don’t be ashamed to say it’s all men: the system was built for them. Instead, make

conscious actions to consume more women artist’s work. Be conscious enough to recognise patterns of whose voices are heard and whose are dismissed. There is something so unique and powerful in the art of women, go find it.