A couple of shots playing around with it follow:

sweet deception. 2011

foxtail. 2011.

While some may say that this is irrelevant in our largely secularized, supposedly scientifically founded society that religion is merely archaic. I disagree, however. I firmly believe that religion provides a fabric, entwined in the very foundation of our society and our collective opinions. And these misogynistic sentiments have become imbued within our consciousness.

I have attempted to appropriate iconic biblical imagery by borrowing from historical religious works of art. While remaining true to the canonical symbolism, I have tried to subtly contemporize these photos, imbuing them with a current relevancy, while still harnessing the innate power of these icons.

Feminist theorist Naomi Wolf argues that in modern society, the subjugation of the female within religion has been replaced with the equally omnipotent power of the beauty standard which functions in a similar role. She compares beauty regiments to rituals of the church, basing her argument around how advertisers now assign a moral imperative to beauty (for instance sexual abstinence has been replaced with a need to abstain from a new oral pleasure; chocolate is sinful, but salvation can be found in diet products). No longer is a “good” woman a pious one suppressed by her sexual chastity, but rather the feminine value is placed solely in the arena of appearance. In an attempt to pay homage to Wolf’s ideas, and lend this canonical imagery a topical contextualization in modernity, I wanted to make these photographs aesthetically focused, almost as though they could be in fashion magazines (which I suppose could be construed as the contemporaneous master paintings of antiquity). I emphasized the beauty elements of these photographs, contrary to the naturalistic aesthetic of classical paintings. My icons wear meticulous and exaggerated make-up; St. Catherine dons green nail polish and Mother Mary wears harlot red lipstick.

The characters I have chosen resonate with misogyny and themes of subjugation in their pedigrees, many of which I feel are incredibly relevant to contemporary women’s issues. The wayward adulteress, the defiant wife, the pious mother and the starving saint, though antiquated, are all allegories that , in my opinion, correlate with modern perspectives of the female.

While predominantly I have focused on female characters within the Judeo-Christian doctrines, I did attempt to emulate some masculine icons and subsequently played upon the sexual ambiguity of religious paintings. It was my intention that this reversal of gender would further emphasize and put into question the nature of gender roles in religion and the implicit misogyny therein.

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Garden of Eden. Self Portrait. 2011.

Mary Magdalen. Self Portrait. 2011.

St. Catherine of Siena. Self Portrait. 2011.

Judith Slaying Holofernes. Self Portrait. 2011.

Mother Mary. Self Portrait. 2011.

Jesus. Self Portrait. 2011.

St. Agatha. Self Portrait. 2011.

Potipher's Wife. Self Portrait. 2011.

St. Rose of Lima. Self Portrait. 2011.

St. John the Baptist. Self Portrait. 2011.

Now, some may say that this is irrelevant, that in our largely secularized, supposedly scientifically founded society that religion is merely archaic. I disagree, however. I firmly believe that religion provides a fabric, entwined in the very foundation of our society and our collective opinions. And these misogynistic sentiments have become imbued within our consciousness.

Naomi Wolf, one of my absolute favourite feminist theorists argues in her iconic book, The Beauty Myth, that religion has been supplanted by the repressive beauty ideal in contemporary society. She writes, “Society at large no longer places religious importance on women’s virginity or marital chastity, asks them to confess their sins or keep a kitchen that is scrupulously kosher. In the interim after the ‘good’ woman’s pedestal had been destroyed, but before she acquired access to real power and authority, she was bereft the older context in which she had been given the trappings of importance and praise” (91). Wolf draws many parallels between religious terminology and contemporary beauty industries. One in particular I found striking was the connection between food and moral judgement; chocolate is sinful, there is salvation in diet products. Whereas sex for pleasure without the intent of reproduction was seen as sinful through the religious doctrine, after the sexual revolution; it is now oral pleasure of another kind that has become the cardinal sin.

In an attempt to pay homage to Wolf’s ideas, and lend this canonical imagery a contextualization in modernity, I wanted to make these images aesthetically focused, almost as though they could be in fashion magazines (which I suppose are the contemporaneous equivalent of master paintings of the past).

These are the first round of proofs, pardon the dust on my scanner. I’m pretty excited with the prospect.

Self Portrait as St. Catherine of Siena. Polaroid Proof. 2011

Self Portrait as the Virgin. Polaroid Proof. 2011.

Self Portrait as Jesus. Polaroid Proof. 2011.

Love is a system of neural mechanisms; the release of dopamine (not unlike cocaine) and serotonin. A constellation of neural reward pathways triggered in the brain to promote reproduction. Love is only in your head. And it will not last, the neurotransmitters habituate, leaving all the faults in the forefront; inescapable.

Love was created by Hallmark, a series of contrived conventions, a plebeian guide that dictates supposed “romance”.  Greeting card sentiments, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate, regurgitated poems from victorian times, red roses and baby’s breath. I hate red roses, give me calla lilies. Pick me dandelions.  Write me poems in spray paint on the sides of buildings.

Love is not taught in educational institutions, no, love is introduced through the pervasive and hegemonic role of Disney in childhood. Created by a misogynistic alcoholic, I grew up with princesses; told that the only worthwhile goal as a woman is marriage, and true love comes in the form of pink dresses and horse drawn carriages; instantaneous, without effort. The classic heroine: Disney’s view of love reinforced existent gender stereotypes; the female as the passive victim, the male as the patriarchal saviour. Brainwashed by the age of six with visions of “happily ever after”, no mention of divorce-rates.

Love is ephemeral. Love will leave you, or you it, but either way you’ll be miserable and alone. Best case scenario; you die or they die, the absolute of mortality separating you eternally.

Love is unattainable. Unrealistic. Love will not last. But, like an addict, we’re all in the hopeless pursuit. That vestige presented by Disney, by Hollywood, haunts us and reminds us of the inferior void in our lives.

In the Trench. 2010.

lieutenant. 2010.

At the same time, I’m a hypocrite. I fall victim to the years of brainwashing; being raised by the television (and subsequently the shiny advertisements therein), the glossy 8″ x 10″ magazines featuring airbrushed bodies of perfection, the girls on the subway made up for Friday night at the club, even though it’s Monday morning. I crunch my abdomen for hours, count every calorie that passes my lips, use sweetener over sugar, make sure I’ve had atleast two hours of cardio daily. I hide the bags under my eyes with a five-step cover-up regime with the precision of a solider dismantling a gun, spend hundreds on skincare, file and paint my nails which render my hands virtually useless in the arena of labor. I pluck my eyebrows, rip the unwanted hair from my skin – brazillian waxing like some Medieval form of torture. Spend thousands of dollars on clothing that hangs like limp bodies in my closet.

Foucault believed the disciplinary power of the institution could be implemented through a series of exercises on the individual body. In his book, Discipline & Punishment, he states that, “The classical age discovered the body as object and target of power. It is easy enough to find signs of the attention then paid to the body- to the body that is manipulated, shaped, trained, which obeys, responds, becomes skillful, and increases its forces” (p. 136). Thus through a series of processes directed at manipulating and homogenizing behaviours, what was, “formed was a policy of coercions that act upon the body, a calculated manipulation of its elements, its gestures, its behavior. The human body was entering a machinery of power that explores it, breaks it down, and rearranges it” (138).  And although his argument applied specifically to soldiers, and later students and patients, I feel it effortlessly translates to the contemporary beauty establishment. Through the unrealistic hegemony of media beauty ideals, we are presented with a regime in an attempt to reach the standards applied to us. From hair removal to skin-care regiments, the disciplinary power of the corporation is displayed on nearly every page of women’s magazines, and furthermore, the bathrooms of average women.

And although I see these parallels , I still fall victim to the patriarchal ideals dictated to me. Which leads me to the question; how in the hell do I have the gall to call myself a feminist?

I have read the Feminine Mystique, the Female Eunich, the Beauty Myth. My bookshelves are riddled with contemporary feminist theory. I believe women are suppressed in our society. We’re subjugated, we’re tortured, we do not have equal opportunity in a patriarchal dominated world. And I live the proof daily.  But years of conditioning have rendered me without the courage to defy it. Perhaps it is on account of the fact that we, as women, are bombarded with the fact that our sole value is dependant on appearance, thus creating a deviance that is instantly observable. To deny the beauty regiment is to be under constant, omnipotent scrutiny (unlike other arenas such as politics or religion, in which converse or abnormal opinions or beliefs are not immediate to the public eye).

I find it depressing that despite my vehemence in my convictions, I feel powerless to defy the standards set forth by patriarchal institutions. I wonder if the contemporary lack of momentum within the feminist movement is on account of the fact that defiance is instantly observable. Humans are creatures that long for a sense of belonging, thus I feel the incessant urge to buy into these normalized practices of discipline, and abnormal to defy under the constant glare of the crowd.

I would love to hear other opinions on this matter.

Her combination of Victorian ideologies and her macabre modern aesthetic are just absolutely amazing.

Totally worth checking out!

Elizabeth McGrath. Blue Bunny. 2009

Elizabeth McGrath. Urban Deer. 2007

Elizabeth McGrath. Muerte and Little Loco. 2008