Should We Still Write “Female” Before “Artist”?

Words Amanda Juico Dela Cruz
April 4, 2024

ALT Conversations with Catalina Africa, Celine Lee, Kat Medina, Lesley-Anne Cao, Lena Cobangbang, and Nice Buenaventura. Photo courtesy of Nice Buenaventura and ALT Philippines.

When asked during the Q&A if they were conscious of their being female in their artistic practice, only Nice Buenaventura said yes. She moderated a conversation for the third installment of ALT Philippines which tackled “Female Artists as Risk Takers” with Lesley-Anne Cao, Celine Lee, Kat Medina, Catalina Africa, and Lena Cobangbang. The gathering happened in the afternoon of February 25 in SMX Hall 4.

All seats were occupied, with staff of the event adding a few more chairs from the café and wine bar to accommodate the crowd. Given that so much progress has already been achieved by female artists emerging strong from the patriarchal history of the artworld, it came as a sort of surprise to me that there was still that much interest. To make my case, Lesley-Anne, Celine, Kat, Catalina, and Lena admitted that the only instances when they would need to confront their being female would be whenever they received invitations on initiatives highlighting female artists. I take this to be enough reason for a celebration as division between male and female artists could not be felt as much anymore compared to decades ago. A male from the audience even said that he had been collecting works by female artists without being aware of it. Lena herself said that there seemed to be no disparity in opportunities for male artists as opposed to opportunities for female artists, both in the local and the global context. The disparity should be examined, according to Lena, in the context of an artist’s being a citizen of a third-world country. Hence, I could not help but be keen on the necessity to write “female” before the word “artist.” Is the adjective still necessary?

One “yes” among the artists in front did not make any female artist’s concerns less concerning. Nice went back to her lived experiences as a mother who had to juggle her art-making, her daytime job, and as I (or we) guessed it, her homemaking. Childrearing has been a hurdle in the art-making of female artists that it did not surprise me in any way anymore. It is a recurring trope, so to speak. I would be more surprised, but pleased, if being homebound was not tackled at all. “My initial list of female monsters was short and the sins had to do, but entirely, with motherhood. To be precise: negligent motherhood,” Claire Dederer wrote in the opening paragraph of the tenth chapter of Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma. “If the male crime is rape,” Claire continued, “the female crime is the failure to nurture. The abandonment of children is the worst thing a woman can do.” As a creative writer myself who has chosen to be childfree, I could only imagine how pursuing one’s art while mothering one’s child could feel as if art-making is a risk in itself.

The conversation was prompted by a remark made by a male artist that there had been more female artists taking risks than male ones. Being a risktaker could mean more than occupying space and pursuing one’s artistic calling. “Many of them don’t necessarily stick to Western tradition of painting,” independent curator and ALT Philippines’ press relations manager Stephanie Frondoso told me. “They fluidly switch mediums and processes,” she continued, “if that is necessary in communicating their ideas.”

While Western art looks forward to the timelessness of a work, Nice toys around the idea of ephemerality like what she did in her Thrashing Palm Tree. On a sheet of plywood is a palm tree drawn using water and a hydrophobic solution.

In Catalina’s clay sculptures and installations, one would notice traces of a child’s work as well as children’s art materials like glitter and oil pastel crayons. When Nice asked Catalina about motherhood and art-making, the latter said that motherhood was not a threat to her art-making. I can only imagine Catalina’s studio doors wide open while her daughter runs around, inviting her from time to time to sit beside her as she creates art.

Some female artists test the possibilities and limitations of materials other than paint and clay. Lesley-Anne creates works without a box. For example, her work of waterproof books submerged into aquariums filled with water. Lena goes back to the idea of domesticity, picking up stuffed toys, floor lamps, pieces of doll furniture, rubber bands, and plastic dental models for her assemblage. Kat goes beyond painting as she uses other materials on her canvases. Celine uses mirrors, light, and the magic of shadows in her works.

Another male in the audience noted in a manner of question, “How about the trans?” “Female” written as an adjec- tive for an artist is not an act of fighting against the erasure and the invisibility of female artists in the artworld the way queer artists do now. Female artists did, as we know from the history of art, until they did not have to anymore. Sooner
or later, queer would not have to fight for their visibility as well. Is the adjective still necessary then? I argue that it is, not to separate themselves, but because fe- male artists, whether they are conscious of their being female or not, have a way of embedding their bodies’ lived experiences into their art-making—when one criticizes the Western idea of what good art should be, when one embraces her identities and roles, and when one goes beyond what has been established when the established practice does not cater to her ideas.