The project SATIS (Latin for enough) was inspired by the famous American photographer Richard Misrach, who said he “came to believe that beauty can be a very powerful convert of difficult ideas. It engages people when they might otherwise look away”. The series of still life photographs intend to encourage conversations surrounding abuse against Women.
Taking inspiration from Vanitas still life paintings, and by using intertextuality and the sublime, I intended to capture an audience’s attention, only for them to realise the true meaning: “art that lures the eye, only to punish the mind with terrible knowledge".
The aim was that these meanings would come across, alongside the clear intention to make spectators confront these realities, educate themselves, and appreciate that ‘beauty’ admits tolerance, strength, and femininity in a world plagued with compassion fatigue.
I collaborated with the wonderful poet Margarita Epiphaniou to create a poem for the project, which featured in the informative zine I created, which you can download below.
Genitalium Femininorum Mutiliones
It’s wrong, isn’t it?
How the second sex falls subservient to law.
To assumed weaknesses.
* Fallen queen
A baby suckles on her mum’s breast
like a bee drinking nectar from the honeysuckle.
O, how beautiful the embryonic blessing can be. But, trees become hindering metal bars.
The sewing of fruits, and the erasure of voices. Like the closure of an oyster, for no pearl nor insatiable pleasure, to exist.
To be shamed.
To be exiled.
The uterus an isolated jail cell with little light. Little light.
Purgationibus Mulierum Exsilium
Womanhood is a double-edged sword
where the womb serves as a ground for fruition with roots of steel and buds of flowers,
or a fucking battleground.
A stolen choice.
* Second gender
Yet, tectonic shifts are inspired by those who have found both a bittersweet comfort and a blessed hatred within,
the turbulent seas
and restricting laws.
Those who have succumbed to the water discovered a taste,
of the penetrative, sickly sea water, Mutare*
Hawks are awoken amongst the soft soil of the riverbed,
as Terra calls for a plebiscite.
Doves arise from the ashes,
an adolescent stains her underwear with the blood of fetal comprehension.
As red as the seeds of the sweet pomegranate.
A tonal shift.
The blood of a newfound intolerance.
Written by Margarita Epiphaniou