Paula Rego at Tate Britain, London

Coming out of this extensive and excellent survey, you get a strong sense that Rego's work is an intoxicating blend of the political and the personal, an intricate map of her identity both as a woman and as a Portuguese citizen. Grown up during Salazar's fascist dictatorship, Rego started calling out the regime's domestic and colonial abuses when she was only 19, by which time she had moved to the UK. Since then, she has never ceased pointing her finger at political and social oppression, with a particular preoccupation for the condition of women.

The large acrylic pictures from 1986-88 in the Love, Devotion, Lust section of the exhibition are perhaps the most iconic part of her oeuvre, and certainly the ones that better illustrate the sheer complexity and befuddling ambiguity of her subject matters. Rego explores the female role in patriarchal societies by painting young women interacting with people, things and animals in ways we cannot fully decipher. These pictures demand our attention, for what at first may seem like a peaceful scene, turns out to be downright terrifying. These characters look calm and then, as we look closer, they look evil, as if driven by an intense need for revenge.

For example, the women who are dressing/undressing/helping/manhandling/subjugating (does anyone know?) the man in The Family. Rego unleashes her fascination for storytelling, before this became an irritating buzzword, and shows us a scene with no beginning and no end, where symbolisms and narrative clues do nothing to shed light on what is actually happening. There is anger, there is pain, there is sexual tension. Brutality and tenderness blend into coded messages from the artist's subconscious that we are unable to make sense of. These works represent a sumptuous and harrowing visual manifestation of the Freudian uncanny where the familiar and the obscure come together in all their mystifying splendour.

At Tate Britain until 24/10 - not to be missed.

#paularego #tatebritain #london #contemporaryart #painting #womanartist

All images © Paula Rego

Women who defend themselves

At long last, my reading drought has come to an end. I am currently re-reading the original version of The Life Before Us written in 1975 by French author Romain Gary under the pseudonym of Émile Ajar. This extraordinary novel tells the story of Momo, the abandoned child of a prostitute, the mother he will never know. Mere pages into this second reading, I was reminded that Gary used the verb 'se defendre', to defend oneself, to describe what prostitutes do. I am puzzled by this expression as I'd never associate prostitution with an act of self-defence, so I have gone down a linguistic rabbit hole to try and make sense of it. Could it mean that they were independent financially? Any native French speakers with a clue, please help me out.

Much of the artistic output of the 19th and 20th century is testament to the obsession for the depiction of prostitutes. Manet, van Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec, Degas, Renoir, Schiele and Picasso to name a few, they were all at it. With the growth of the modern cities came the significant presence of sexual commerce in the streets and, for the artists, the abundance of cheap and available models. The representation of the women of the night expressed all the fascination and disdain for the splendours and miseries of what was arguably one of the symbols of the degrading morals and ambiguity of urban modernity.

I will never forget the first time I saw this painting, which is hands down my favourite Picasso. This is a scene you don't just look at, you listen to it, you feel it. The rustling of the robes, the whispering of a secret, the clinking of the glasses, the band playing, I'm sure there's an accordionist in there somewhere. And what of the gentle evening breeze, those flickering lights against the dark sky, the intoxicating lust hanging in the air. And the chattering of the women who are there to defend themselves.

#picasso #painting #guggenheimmuseum #art #modernart #prostitution #women #modernity #paris #artblog #blogger #beyondthecanvasblog

Pablo Picasso

Le Moulin de la Galette, 1900

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, Thannhauser Collection

The day Gilead came to Texas

Earlier this week, a near-total ban on abortions has come into effect in the state of Texas. This means that after six weeks of pregnancy, when many women don't even know they are expecting, it will be impossible to legally terminate a pregnancy. And no, there will be no exceptions in case of rape or incest. What's more, this new law allows citizens to sue abortions providers as well as anyone helping a woman to have an abortion. Say a friend is driving you to the clinic, yes they're also liable. To top it all off, the State of Texas has set up a website where people can anonymously blow the whistle on women they believe to be in violation of this law. Hang on, it gets better: if you win the lawsuit against the providers, you're in line to pocket $10,000. A genuine bonanza for bounty-hunters.

As a woman, I am thinking and feeling MANY things right now, none of them good, certainly none that I can calmly articulate. As it happens, I am effing livid, so I am once again turning to art to channel my thoughts. Barbara Kruger's work needs no introduction. Her iconic black and white imagery overlaid with text in Futura bold addresses politics, gender equality and is instantly recognisable. This piece was made in 1989, that's 32 years ago, for the Women’s March on Washington in response to anti-abortion laws that were undermining Roe v. Wade (the 1973 ruling that grants legal rights to abortions nationwide).

Thirty-two years later, the tragedy of this work is its continued relevance, the way it reminds us of the fragility of the female condition, whether in Afghanistan or in the United States. A woman's body was, still is and remains a battleground. There will always be someone who has the power to make choices for us, deciding what's best for us and for our bodies. And I bet you these are the same pro-lifers advocating 'medical freedom' and a ban on masks.

This law sets an incredibly dangerous precedent and poses a real threat to Roe v Wade. It also makes it very hard for women with lower income to access safe abortions. This legalised social warfare is about privilege, class and race. There is so much that goes into it. Lastly, the Supreme Court ignored an emergency petition and opted not to block this law, which of course it could have done. Do you see now why those rushed appointments at the tailend of the Trump presidency mattered so much?

#barbarakruger #blackandwhite #texas #abortionban #texasabortionlaw #abortion #texastaliban #roevwade #reproductiverights #womensrights #mybodymychoice #blog #beyondthecanvasblog

Barbara Kruger

Untitled (Your body is a battleground), 1989