Review of «Taking Centre Stage: Female Artists in The Atkinson’s Collection»

The Atkinson's main gallery has a new exhibition, set to stand until March 2027: it's «Taking Centre Stage: Female Artists in The Atkinson’s Collection». While I'd prefer to only have a look at the work herein presented and make a comment on its merits, a theme this provocative deserves, I believe, a few lines, so I'm going head there first.

While one theme is as good as the next, the idea of placing a gender as the starting point of an exhibit is twofold flawed– flawed on both ends, if you will, in its conception and in its end. In its conception because it's quite reductive: being a woman is, as means of selection, quite broad; lazy, even. Might as well sort a theme through the lens of «above average height artists»: there's not really a unifying thread to that cloth.
And the theme is flawed in its finality, too, because there's no way to be meritorious about it. Let's think of an easy theme: the coast. And, of it , we choose, as curators, who has captured the setting best. Now, here we already have an interesting conversation: what is the best way to represent a coast? A beautiful rendition of a wave-ridden sunset will surely make the cut, but the theme can also be approached from many different angles, like, representation of oceanic pollution, just to name one, where the curator will have to make decisions, find an angle, convey something interesting: for there's nothing wrong with a tried-and-true ocean vista, and there's nothing wrong with bringing awareness of plastics affecting coastal fauna, but there is a conversation therein on how to capture the theme best. When the theme is «female artists», what criterion determines what stands out? Because the theme is not womanhood, femininity, challenging roles, women's perspectives of armed conflict, or a plethora of actual themes: it's just «made by a woman», and I don't find that interesting. It's provocative at best, if you find sexism provocative.


Anyways, this is a minor shame, at least to me, for what I am interested in here is which piece will become the centre of attention of the visitors of The Atkinson; which piece will be reproduced at in postcard form and stamped on t-shirts (which is the only way to know what the most popular, and therefore the best piece is in an exhibit): It used to be «Lilith» by John Collier (even though I was more partial to Ernest Normand's «Pygmalion and Galatea» myself.) But no more caveats, let's dig into the main course: Here are the pieces that should be exploited by any means capitalism can afford: these are the artworks that should be made into erasers, curtains and mugs:

 

 3. «The belle of the village» by Alice Havers. A flirty redhead takes a good minute off her chores to chat up with some men that are also taking a –perhaps longer– break, much to the dismay of her peers, who look disapprovingly as our fiery protagonist crosses a physical and metaphorical boundary.


This contemporary take on the second part of «Belle du village» comes from https://papytane.com/havers.htm

This little morality tale has a very victorian ending, but to see that you'll need to join me in begging whoever acquired it to lend it to The Atkinson, for this work is really a diptych, and without the latter piece that shows the resolution of the scene displayed at The Atkinson, this painting only paints half a picture, and this is why it is just at number three of this list.

 

2. «My man», by Gillian Wearing. Last year (or was it the year before that?) this piece was right at the forefront of this very gallery, and while then it had a very privileged position and more accompanying tombstones; even without them, this piece remains a strongly layered narrative piece that takes its reader on quite an emotional journey. Simple, original, impactful. This image, however, is very difficult to fit on a postcard while keeping it legible, so it has to make way to

 

1. «Nomad patterns» by Livia Marin. This compelling chinoiserie tableware is, to me, the stand-out piece of the exhibit. Filled with whimsy and depth, these melting kettles comment on the persistence of what's artistic over what is useful, all while subverting our expectations of ceramics.