Mostra "Senza professione" (Una storia di pregiudizi)
“No Profession” (A story of prejudice)
It has not been uncommon, over the years, to find myself captivated by the stories of the many artists relegated by history to the “minor” category; and it has been with great admiration and respect that I have viewed works that, in my opinion, have been judged superficially through the filter of a certain a priori prejudice aimed at depriving those artists of their due recognition. Yet, there is no doubt in my mind that these works represent an unbroken, centuries-long artistic continuum; or that political and social biases have often been at the root of so many cases of oblivion, dismissal and alienation that, in the arts in particular, have most deeply targeted women.
So I began to investigate and expand on this theme in a series of works – the substance of this exhibition – but instead of focusing my attention on the underlying reasons for this state of affairs, I set out instead from various perspectives and interpretations to try to make a small contribution to repaying this enormous debt.
Considered aptly suited to decorative painting – still life, flowers, etc. – for centuries other outlets for the display of “talent” were also earmarked for women, such as playing the piano, singing and embroidery; these were, moreover, reserved for the daughters of the upper classes and certainly suffocated among the humble ranks of the domestic servant class.
Maria Anna Mozart, endearingly known as Nannerl, a talented musician and composer raised in the shadow of her brother Wolfgang Amadeus and, owing to her gender alone, forced by their father to perform solely within the private confines of home and family. Only a single example of her many compositions remains today.
Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, portrait artist to the royal family, earned her fame thanks to the unparalleled support of the most celebrated woman of the times – Marie Antoinette – in what turned out to be a momentary (perhaps illusory?) high point for women’s art. Indeed, with the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Code that followed, women were once again demoted to a station inferior to that of men and no longer permitted to attend the art academies or institutes.
Édouard Manet’s sister-in-law, Berthe Morisot, was a master Impressionist painter, whose death certificate described her as having “no profession”, thereby definitively dooming any recognition of her astonishingly fertile artistic career to burial along with her body.
Camille Claudel, sculptress and muse to French master sculptor Rodin, whose eventual abandonment triggered a steep decline that led to her confinement in the Montfavet mental hospital for the remainder of her life.
A humble scullery maid , Séraphine de Senlis, and an imperious headmistress Aloïse Corbaz: two very different stories, yet whose protegonists’ artistic pursuits are similarly redeemed by objective, albeit tardy, artistic recognition.
Vanessa Bell, elder sister of novelist Virginia Woolf and Gabriele Muenter , member of German Expressionism and of the “Blaue Reiter Group” but probably best known as lover of her colleague Wassily Kandinsky.
Nori de’ Nobili and Carla Maria Maggi, who renounced their creative passions for the sake of the social conventions of their times, and the great poet Alda Merini.
Indeed, the list goes on and on of the variously unrecognised women in this tale of clearly politically-motivated prejudice and exclusion.
This exhibition, therefore, is intended as my simple personal homage to gender; my convinced support for an alternative vision of the history of art and an invitation to wonder how it might have evolved if male and female artists had always been allowed to develop their talents as equals.
On this occasion, additional homage is paid to two splendid but ill-fated artists: Polish sculptor Maryla Lednika-Szczytt and Ukrainian painter Marija Prymachenko, whose artistic legacies have been almost entirely eradicated by the violence of war.
In conclusion, it is not out of step that an exhibition focused on gender-based prejudice, would also take the trouble to recall a man: my uncle, who unwittingly provided the initial inspiration for my passion for drawing and colour, for whom another sort of prejudice – against being mentally and socially different – presented a barrier to personal expression.... but... that’s another story…
Paolo Bigelli
Mostra "Senza professione" (Una storia di pregiudizi)
“No Profession” (A story of prejudice)
It has not been uncommon, over the years, to find myself captivated by the stories of the many artists relegated by history to the “minor” category; and it has been with great admiration and respect that I have viewed works that, in my opinion, have been judged superficially through the filter of a certain a priori prejudice aimed at depriving those artists of their due recognition. Yet, there is no doubt in my mind that these works represent an unbroken, centuries-long artistic continuum; or that political and social biases have often been at the root of so many cases of oblivion, dismissal and alienation that, in the arts in particular, have most deeply targeted women.
So I began to investigate and expand on this theme in a series of works – the substance of this exhibition – but instead of focusing my attention on the underlying reasons for this state of affairs, I set out instead from various perspectives and interpretations to try to make a small contribution to repaying this enormous debt.
Considered aptly suited to decorative painting – still life, flowers, etc. – for centuries other outlets for the display of “talent” were also earmarked for women, such as playing the piano, singing and embroidery; these were, moreover, reserved for the daughters of the upper classes and certainly suffocated among the humble ranks of the domestic servant class.
Maria Anna Mozart, endearingly known as Nannerl, a talented musician and composer raised in the shadow of her brother Wolfgang Amadeus and, owing to her gender alone, forced by their father to perform solely within the private confines of home and family. Only a single example of her many compositions remains today.
Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, portrait artist to the royal family, earned her fame thanks to the unparalleled support of the most celebrated woman of the times – Marie Antoinette – in what turned out to be a momentary (perhaps illusory?) high point for women’s art. Indeed, with the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Code that followed, women were once again demoted to a station inferior to that of men and no longer permitted to attend the art academies or institutes.
Édouard Manet’s sister-in-law, Berthe Morisot, was a master Impressionist painter, whose death certificate described her as having “no profession”, thereby definitively dooming any recognition of her astonishingly fertile artistic career to burial along with her body.
Camille Claudel, sculptress and muse to French master sculptor Rodin, whose eventual abandonment triggered a steep decline that led to her confinement in the Montfavet mental hospital for the remainder of her life.
A humble scullery maid , Séraphine de Senlis, and an imperious headmistress Aloïse Corbaz: two very different stories, yet whose protegonists’ artistic pursuits are similarly redeemed by objective, albeit tardy, artistic recognition.
Vanessa Bell, elder sister of novelist Virginia Woolf and Gabriele Muenter , member of German Expressionism and of the “Blaue Reiter Group” but probably best known as lover of her colleague Wassily Kandinsky.
Nori de’ Nobili and Carla Maria Maggi, who renounced their creative passions for the sake of the social conventions of their times, and the great poet Alda Merini.
Indeed, the list goes on and on of the variously unrecognised women in this tale of clearly politically-motivated prejudice and exclusion.
This exhibition, therefore, is intended as my simple personal homage to gender; my convinced support for an alternative vision of the history of art and an invitation to wonder how it might have evolved if male and female artists had always been allowed to develop their talents as equals.
On this occasion, additional homage is paid to two splendid but ill-fated artists: Polish sculptor Maryla Lednika-Szczytt and Ukrainian painter Marija Prymachenko, whose artistic legacies have been almost entirely eradicated by the violence of war.
In conclusion, it is not out of step that an exhibition focused on gender-based prejudice, would also take the trouble to recall a man: my uncle, who unwittingly provided the initial inspiration for my passion for drawing and colour, for whom another sort of prejudice – against being mentally and socially different – presented a barrier to personal expression.... but... that’s another story…
Paolo Bigelli