Grumpy Women in Art: Two - Esther

“Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman,” says the song. In these trying times, I’d say it’s hard to be a human, because there are instances when being a woman doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the underdog. When you watch as much TV as I do, you actually notice & can trace the changes in equalities of all kinds. Clearly there is still a lot that has to be done, especially when you find yourself watching something from say, the 1970s & thinking, “well they wouldn’t get away with THAT nowadays…” The implication being that you know full well they would do/say it if they COULD get away with it. & the thought of that makes me grumpy.

Not that it takes much & I consider myself an equal opportunities irritant: I like to make sure that when I’m feeling grumpy, I make it everyone else’s problem & the older I get, the less I care. 

Only kidding – I’m a perfect delight.

I like being grumpy & I learned from the best. Before retirement, my Dad was apparently one of those bad-tempered types that hapless new-starts would get sent to by sniggering experienced types to ask for things like “a benchmark.” I like other grumpy people & I’m deeply wary of the irresponsibly cheerful.

Once more, the World of Art represents us. What started life as a group of artworks depicting “Bored, Tired or Grumpy Women” on Facebook has new life breathed into it as a blog. But without the bored or tired ones.

Here is the second instalment of Grumpy Women in Art. You’re not supposed to enjoy it.

Artemisia Gentileschi (1593-1653), Portrait of a Nun

In the first “grumpy women” blog, we looked at Velázquez’s grumpy nun. Here, Artemesia has another with a subtly different demeanour. Here, the nun isn’t so much disappointed in us as in utter contempt. It’s that curling lip that goes along with the death-stare, like she can’t believe what she’s witnessing. To me, it doesn’t so much seem as if she’s annoyed at people’s sins, but rather the other nuns. It just has that popular girl vibe that says, “you can’t sit with us,” in a way that comes from close proximity to others. Maybe she just hates artists.

Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571-1610), Medusa

I know in the first “grumpy women” blog I tried to rationalise the use of “grumpy” over “angry” but I have to admit Caravaggio’s Medusa is absolutely raging. & who wouldn’t be when they’d had their head lopped off?! Not only that, the story goes that she was pregnant when she was beheaded & as she was killed, Pegasus & Chrysaor dived out of her. Here, Caravaggio has presented Medusa at the point of beheading, but has replaced the gorgon’s face with his own, to show he’s impervious to her stare. That is some concept for the time, when you consider ideas & theories about the self & identity are still being unravelled & developing over three & four hundred years later. Anyway, if you get too much into these ancient myths, you find that people actually argue about what “happened.” You know, as if it wasn’t all made up. Or as if it matters. I must admit I find that stupid. & stupidity makes me grumpy, so we’re totally on topic.

Cindy Sherman (b. 1954), Untitled #470

Talking of the self, Cindy’s oeuvre consists entirely of photographic self-portraits as numerous characters & in assorted circumstances. It doesn’t matter how ugly or damaged it makes her look & of course mood comes into it. Since she only numbers her works rather than naming them, it allows us some scope to project onto them. Here, I could sense a middle-aged state of grumpiness. Personally, I think the fan represents being too menopausal & hot rather than the state of being fierce & fabulous, but you know, another viewer might say different.

Edward Hopper (1882-1967), Summer in the City

It’s annoying when someone nods off before you do, snoring the place down & you still can’t get a wink of sleep. Yes - that’s what I’m projecting onto this one…

Auguste Toulmouche (1829-1890), Dolce Far Niente

The title translates as “pleasant idleness.” Well yes, loafing around in a sumptuous frock on a chaise longue all day with a book & a billion cushions should epitomise this, however she doesn’t seem very pleased. Perhaps the book is rotten (there being nothing good on telly) or perhaps she’s pulled something in her back & she’s stuck in that position.

Jean Béraud (1849-1935), The Drinkers

Yes, we’ve all been there – a date gone wrong, a sudden realisation we’re with the wrong person, or simply bored witless by someone who actively seems to be dissolving your brain cells with their inane conversation. Infuriating, but usually not socially acceptable to tell them so or to walk out in disgust. 

Jacques-Louis David (1748-1825), Zelandica

David was of course a masterful painter but also a Revolutionary. He was perfect for his time, when art was becoming more intellectual & sombre. This was a revolution in itself. Her folded arms & withering back-glance suggest a woman with no time for this – or any other - nonsense. (At the time of writing, I'm trying to verify this is by David however...)

Adrienne Stein (b. 1986), La Fête Sauvage

Again, the grumpiness is in the eye of the beholder. She has a pouty gaze off into the distance, as if she’s not really here paying attention. On an artistic note, I like how Stein achieves a balance between paintings that look contemporary, with contemporary women & the artistic traditions of painting, including still life & potential narratives. 

Mary Cassatt (1844-1926), Self-Portrait

It may not be one of Mary’s more detailed portraits (1878), but her expression is clear enough & she definitely gives off an air of detached grumpiness. After 1900, her eyesight deteriorated badly & this affected her ability to paint.

Harold Knight (1874-1961), Books, Portrait of Laura Knight

Laura Knight was in fact an incredible painter in her own right. Here she is surrounded by books, but forced to pose for her pesky husband. Grumpy? Of course!