Recently, I’ve been reflecting more about how I want to be perceived, as the Professional Art Bullshitter, as Sophie Nowakowska, and as both at once.
I have a few close male friends who are five to fifteen years older than me, established, well-connected, perfectly comfortable in their corner of the art world. They’ve been around; they know everyone. Over the years, they’ve supported me in many ways. They’ve taught me things, opened doors, passed on wisdom, and recommended me to others.
I know what you’re thinking.
No.
We do not have sex.
The other day, I was feeling slightly upset that they were off at some events without me, when it suddenly dawned on me:
I should NEVER arrive at, or leave, important art events with men who hold positions of power.
Because when I do, I can feel the stares before I’ve even checked my coat. I hear the whispers before I’ve even said hello. I am not interested in being read as the woman who’s there because of who she’s with rather than what she does. I’d rather walk in alone, power moves differently that way.
Being dismissed or underestimated because of my gender in galleries or at art fairs doesn’t really surprise, or even bother, me anymore. I just walk away towards artworks when a gallerist (man or woman, doesn’t matter) speaks exclusively to my older male friend while pretending I’m invisible. I leave their gallery and don’t think about it for the rest of the day, but be sure, I remember every single art dealer who’s done it.
Still, some moments are too absurd not to acknowledge.
Last year, I worked for a male artist who seriously suggested I should “use my sex appeal” to make contacts, for both of us. He suggested I set up profiles on various dating apps to meet wealthy men who could buy his work or offer him opportunities. Imagine doing a BA in Cambridge, an MA at the RCA, and a PhD at the UAL just to be told by an ageing man that Tinder could be your networking tool.
Another time, a curator introduced me as “Sophie, she’s great on Instagram.”
I thought, “I’d just finished a 40-page literature review on cultural capital in contemporary art criticism, but sure, I’m great on Instagram.”
But the truth is…
…sex appeal sells.
I’m fully aware that my makeup, tight dress, exposed skin, high heels, and posing in my cosy bedroom help me. Algorithms like it. Men like it. And it probably gives me more visibility, and access, than some men ever get. We’re all drawn to attractive people; I’m no exception. I fancy a few of my followers.
But lately, I’ve been wondering, is it possible to be valued purely for my work if I show up at an art event with an older man?
I do not agree with being overshadowed, even if that’s definitely not my friends’ intention.
I want to stand beside them and be seen as an equal. I refuse to be anyone’s accessory.
I can’t help but wonder, when I’m 30, 35, 40, and I become friends with a younger guy… how will that look?