I love art. But my preference is for modern, abstract art. I’m not as big a fan of classical art. Mainly because it is an artistic manifestation of the patriarchy. It might not be as crude as Playboy, but the lens of the male gaze pervades. This art wasn’t made for me, because this art doesn’t recognize me as a full human being. Only (white) men get that.
So when I find myself surrounded by classical art, I while away the time with a game that I call “Feminist Art Genres”. This is basically a game of snarky categorization.
Often they come with a weapon, because why the hell not. Sometimes they don’t have a weapon but… think they do?
Sometimes they have machines that may or may not work, and they may or may not know how to use.
Sometimes they appear to be explaining things. Plus ça change.
Woman are often moping. Sometimes clothed, often not. Which makes sense I guess, because often when I feel sad the first thing I do is take all my clothes off and lie down in a provocative position.
As my friend Natasha says, “I lie naked like that sometimes, but not with one stocking.”
I’ve never held a severed head, but I imagine if I did, I would experience a wardrobe malfunction.
Often you find women doing domestic tasks.
Women often look bored. This pairs well with the genre of “mansplaining”.
It’s not just classical art, I was also inspired by a type of plant recently. And if you liked this, you might also enjoy the time I went to a museum and had a complete meltdown about POCKETS.