The Villain
Shifting the narrative of divine womanhood.
For the past 2 weeks I’ve been speaking about my ‘practice’ in theoretical terms. Analysing and explaining why I’m making paintings in the way I’m making them and where my gaps are, what is my structure and way forward. From a socio-political to the material and emotive context. Ironically, or not so ironically, for someone who makes emotionally charged work and has actively seen to not overly analyse, just-make-the-painting-and-figure-it-out-later so you can feel, express the state of your soul kinda gal. This feels a bit like a prolonged therapy session without a therapist asking me to ‘just feel and let it all out rather than analyse’ or any constructive feedback on how to deal with the emotional fallout, because that very fallout is, the art. I’m screaming.
Trust me, I am fully screaming in my heart, while laughing loud and making dark jokes. However, this is the dialogue I have been wanting for so long. I’ve recently uncovered a few more reasons why I stopped or couldn’t discuss the red paintings - from witnessing copious amount of femicide and violence against women from war torn countries to the ever increasing lack of safety for women in my own country, to my own feelings about myself. These works were made with a pure female narrative, just as we are, without the prerequisites of service and a strict version of modern felinity which only drives profits for companies. I sense that very fallout will be discussed at 10m on Wednesday in a group of 7 of my peers and a tutor who I’ve never met before. It will be time to honour the emotions. I’m strong and vulnerable enough to back myself in this process. After all that is when we thrive and magic happens. When we’re vulnerable and take chances in life.
What an introduction. For someone who promised a newsletter once a month, I’m falling behind. And once a month because I’m known to write 3000 words in an afternoon in one straight thought, which makes me think, that is exactly how I’ll have to write my thesis. As one straight thought (with footnotes, and referencing myself as to avoid plagiarising myself). This working process, my art, what it is at the moment and where she’s going to take me, is truly on the brain. I miss the way I used to paint, I miss painting green and blue paintings but I also know for me to now retreat to those works, would be avoiding the conversation on the red paintings which needs to happen, the nuances around being women, the Villain - or to some the Monstrous Feminine, needs to happen. The facets of womanhood which feel unsavoury to even ourselves let alone men, as you shed skin, needs to be normalised. It’s normal to age, become less bending and forgiving as you grow older and wiser. May we honour it.
Some back story to what’s been going on, and how I’ve been doing because, everything is related, relevant. 8 weeks ago, I went back to full time freelance work in advertising for a 6 week block, a career I know I’ve outgrown of for many reasons. From the lack of personal challenge, mundanity or repetition and greenwashing of companies and marketing of products (there’s a theme here) which we either do not need, adding to the detrimental effects of our overall mental and physical health, adding to overconsumption which generally harms our planet, us, the wildlife, and/or feeds the capitalist war machines we all know too well which exist. So why do this? Why would I go back? Well, to help pay for my MFA at City and Guilds so I can make and then continue to make the very work which I have to.
Making work scares me a little these days. The red paintings have always instilled some mad power - fear - empower - say things have they are, type of dynamics to the point where I’ve started dreaming about them. There are so many connotations to the colour red which is all about action, assertion, passion, blood, lust, danger, the doing of being human. Where these paintings have taken on their own form and been their boldest and strongest much like Athena and Eris, I have been left to feel as though I’m lagging behind, inadequate in terms of ambition, desire and determination. And then realising that this inadequacy not only exists within the context of my paintings but through preconceived ideas I’ve learnt on being a women. No one had to tell me to feel this way, I took it on gladly as though I deserved it for making work with such passion and force which challenged the nuances of this very conversation. As though the women we are in an everyday light, at our rawest, kindest, strongest is doing something wrong, is not worthy of our human desires and needs. I see on a personal note how these behaviours mirror into my personal life, and now I’m telling myself to go where the peace and softness is, just for a moment so I can remember, just to feel as though I’m worthy of everything I knew I was worthy of before and some more. Everyday I’m telling myself these fearless traits are okay to exist in my soft body. Every other day I hear the paintings whisper to me, to ‘just do it’. The cutting of 8 inches of hair, the sickening feeling of the hardening surface of my very soft heart as I face my own losses in love and bury the past. The making of my own villain, which was always unavoidable. Now I’m writing how I used to. Now I’m speaking with the love and affection I have for myself, and towards my paintings. I write this after a short conversation with someone who is very dear to me. I hope you read this and forgive me for being human, for having to leave for a while. I won’t be gone forever.
The villain. Who is the villain? She - they are a ‘she’ today as the vast majority of my paintings are women, is usually someone who’s done, said, or failed in some way, even though that failure may have been unavoidable. The villain will appear across numerous different communities and even within ourselves. The more we do to escape our villain arch, the more we become hostile to our own nature. Each society has its spoken and hidden rulings, and each society further has subdivisions on unspoken etiquette. The natural way of life sometimes frowned upon.
The infamous Barbara Creed quotes ‘…woman's blood points to the fertile nature of the female body and bears witness to woman's alliance with the natural world.' I’ve always followed the way of a mystic and believe not all life should be dissected, only loved and cherished, even the tougher parts as there is life and learning in everything. If these paintings were to teach me one thing from the get go is, the fear in people will push them to antagonise others who trigger said fears due to unfamiliarity with systems beyond their understanding, until the person who posses the gift which makes the antagoniser feel without/at a loss, will make the other feel unnatural for baring their gift in the first place. Why is it after all this time, women are still punished for having their menses? And why is it all women must give birth as a form of repaying the discomfort they’ve provided others with by continuing to have their menses. From the spiritual and Islamic lens, women are a gift, and yet, in many cultures which openly practice and advocate for Islam (e.g. the subcontinent), a lot of womanhood is associated with shame.
Sometimes, the villain needn’t have done anything, only to exist. Sometimes, it’s the fact that girls turn into women, and the preconditions of being born this gender come with pressures on how to do this life while listening or adhering to marketing on how to act, be and feel. Words and terms such as ‘demure’ and ‘divine feminine’ come in to help navigate women’s behaviour to adhere to capitalist patriarchal standards. All even though anger, passion, discontent and assertion are all valid, indispensable traits of humans, let alone women. Body types are a fashion or trend often used to manipulate the woman into believing they’ll never acquire ‘their’ perfect body - and I said ‘their’ because the numerous other pressures women across the globe face in differing prepositions enable them to focus on the tasks they can and disregard the rest for some level of ease. 2 years ago I would stop using the terms masculine and feminine. The modern spirituality world would co-opt the term ‘divine feminine’ with a set of traits to market herself to her (always a her) ‘masculine counterpart’ even though all humans share traits of both feminine and masculine. The divine feminine already exists, it’s in us, in true unadulterated expression and action. It’s the women we already are and to have marketing campaigns utilise spiritual terms which make people feel lesser than is an old colonial trick. It’s no wonder it is easier said than done to just ‘be yourself’. The mass unlearning which has to take place, the grace you must give yourself to blossom into your true nature and realise you were always worthy of respect, love and affection just as you are in your wild self, takes effort.
So where does this leave me and my red paintings for now? The term feminine has had to make a return and it feels like the timing is just. Unfortunately or rather fortunately, I can’t escape being the villain but I can ask myself what that looks like to me. No matter where we are, there will be questions asked, events challenged and motives belittled. Go forward with the special kind of softness which exists in the strongest and most powerful of women. Go forward with the best of intentions rather than from fear. Power has so many paths before it and it’s the intention behind welding that power which matters. If it comes from fear, all which will be felt is an unobtainable temporary power which you fear will vanish at any time. Also understand when that power leaves, let it leave, she’ll return when another part of work is done. I pray these paintings wont ruin me, I pray instead they’ll support me into being the women I ought to be. Communication and kindness always. The fist which wears the velvet glove, may it pull my soul into it’s body, rather than slam down on a wooden table.
Peace and blessings to all the beloved. May you never stifle your own gifts. Thank you for reading. Salaam. x
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