Article Frames Magazine
THE FEMALE GAZE: #GirlGaze: On the Unique Vision of Female Photographers Picturing Grief, by Diana Nicholette Jeon
Author’s Note: I’m doing something different from my typical interview feature today. I’ve been feeling extremely emotional due to all the turmoil in the world this fall, so I decided to do a group feature on women dealing with grief via their photography.
The imagery I have included here represents a small survey of what we women photographers are doing via our work. Once again this month, I ask myself, “Is there something more, something else, something different, that separates how and what women photograph?” As I have written previously, the true essence of the female gaze lies in women creating art crafted without the consideration of the male ego or male desire but instead with the focus on the wishes of the female maker and female viewer. It’s been my experience that women share the emotional experiences and events of their lives via their work much more frequently than men. The exception, to me, is the area of grief and loss. It may be deemed more societally acceptable for men to show emotion over the loss of loved ones than in other areas. I am not sure, but I find in this one segment that men are making images as poignant and emotionally potent as women. I could name photographers and their series, but since my column focuses on women, I’ll not do so.
I first noticed Corina Bouweriks’ work when I saw a Sarah Moon-like image of hers in one of the entrant’s galleries on LensCulture. The work intrigued me enough that I looked up her name on Instagram, a site I dread and try to avoid. Looking at more of her work there, I was smitten. I sensed the melancholic undertones to every image; she made me feel. And that is my thing. I want to feel someone’s work rather than view it.
The two images I have shown here are from a project entitled Residents of the Mind. I’m captivated by her use of dress forms, how they act as cages, and what they may mean. Haven’t most of us had a period where we felt trapped by our circumstances? We cannot see the woman’s expression in either photograph, which adds to the sense of tension the images provoke. In both cases, they are only fragments of a whole person, which speaks of brokenness from experiences that the person is or has suffered. I was lucky to communicate with Bouweriks as she speaks some English in addition to her native tongue. She told me that the series was created during a period of loss, with its accompanying grief, emotional turmoil, and sadness, but also the chance for a newer (perhaps better) period—a time of confusion and sometimes hopelessness. Bouweriks says, “Basically, they are ‘self-portraits’ revealing the feelings and thoughts of the young girl who wasn’t able to speak up for herself at that time. She finally has the courage to show herself without any quid pro quo.“
I look forward to seeing the follow-on piece, Kaatje, that she is currently working on.