I'm afraid of loving women
And I'm scared of loving men
Februar 2015 Archiv
It's not the way it has to be.
Amöneburg.
Zuhause ist dort, wo Sonnenaufgangs- und -untergangsbilder durch die Landschaft unterscheidbar sind.
Pflasterstein.
Niemals wirst du je davon erfahren,
dass du gingst nah an mir vorbei.Deine Augen sahen mich nicht an,
denn du hattest eine Spieldose dabei.
Riddlyrics.
Come, taste the wine ...
Come, surf the clouds ...
Paint me like one of your norms.
So imagine 17 year old Artemisia trying to approach painting the scene of a woman being assaulted. And she paints what is seen in the x-ray above. A woman in horrifying, grotesque anguish with what appears to be a knife poised in her clenched hand. Damn that shit is real. Who wants to guess that she was advised by, perhaps her father or others, to tone it down. Women can’t look that grotesque. Sexual assault can’t be depicted as that horrifying. And women definitely can’t be seen as having the potential to fight back. Certainly not in artwork. Women need to be soft. They need to wilt from their captors but still look pretty and be a damsel in distress. So she changed it.