After a personal and artistic crisis I decided to recycle myself. As the crisis was a fat one, I needed all the advice that my own and others’ experience could give me. Luckily the method I already had, it’s the same one I use to organise a drawer or a wardrobe: empty, clean, get rid of what I don’t want to put back in, replace what is not useful anymore and add what is needed.
At first it is easy, then doubts arrive. Can I use this behaviour? Does this idea still suit me? It’s ten years since I last used this theory (I had even forgotten that I had it) but if I get rid of it, what if I need it at some point? Um, I never liked that stereotype, it’s ugly, but it was a gift from society and so I’ll feel bad if I throw it away just like that. I might get dirty looks.
I need new content. I look around for inspiration in other women. I need models. But from the magazines I am only looked at without being seen by supposedly feminine beings who seem to have lost their soul. They don’t have skin, only gaussian blur, nor expression, no matter how much one searches in those hyperfocused eyes. There doesn’t seem to be anyone there. They don’t inspire me. I don’t want to be like them. And on TV? Not much either.
I start to realise that it is complicated. Inspiring women, of which I know there are millions, hide. They don’t appear in the media just like that. One has to look for them.
This text was written for xyx28: encrypted feminist magazine, my first art piece about feminism.