A series on women in gardens
Venus Pudica
There is something I've always found fascinating about marble statues. Not only their aesthetic qualities, but also what they reveal about humanity's collective psyche. We've worshiped these lifeless figures, sometimes with more reverence than we extend to living beings. This raise an unsettling question: are women valued only when silent, beautiful, undemanding—and lifeless?
In this work, I sought to bring about a sense of unease, inviting the viewer to question the apparent stillness of the marble forms. What if these statues were not inert at all, but instead possessed vitality—a pulse, an interior, blood?
I think the implications of a living creature inhabiting a constricting marble shell resonates with the lived experience of many women—at least is does with my own. Our identities are too often flattened to their external appearance. To imagine breath, thought, or desire is to acknowledge our interior world as real, profound and complex.
Beyond restoring humanity to these statues, I also wished to question the very act of placing women in positions of worship. The Venus Pudica, a classical archetype in which female statues cover their breasts and vulva with their hands—served to demonstrate a socially expected act of modesty.
By portraying the arms of this figure as broken-off, I wanted to draw attention to the fact that her posture is not self-determined. Locked within a marble shell, her body and gestures are prescribed by the person who "sculpted" her. She is denied even the choice of how she wishes to present herself, or what attitude to adopt toward her own body.
Crouching Venus Laid an Egg
The Bathers — Les baigneuses
