The ART of FEMINISM


What makes a woman a feminist? Is it the clothes she wears, the way she carries herself, is it her voice, or the way she stands? We live in a society in which gender roles dictate the way a woman should carry herself. I personally think a woman is work of art, and so is a man in its perspective endeavor. Being a feminist means acknowledging that a woman is just as important as a man, not greater or less. Since birth we raise girls to like pink, and boys to like blue, instead of letting them decide for themselves. A man choosing pink is no less than a men choosing blue, as is a woman. Should we be defined by our exterior, our looks, sexual preference, our jobs?!! No.

Creativity takes courage! To be there in that moment, bare skin, freed from insecurities, just as you were born. You peel back the layers and you see what’s inside. That’s the art of feminism to me. Each model is different, but yet the same. They are woman; old, young, fit, a little bit more to love. They were courageous to show the world their stripes. Deciding to become a canvas for all women out there. Your canvas can move, it can be a foreground, or background. It can be the focus of the operation. the possibilities are endless when your body is a vessel. We are souls on a human experience, and this series will capture that. We are powerful creatures that deserve respect and acknowledgement. Many hide behind the layer I depict in my art. They are all different, but bound by my art. I hope that the viewer can look past the surface and appreciate the real beauty of a woman; that which is found inside. I hope you see the art in their movement, the force that drives them, the colors of their soul when you look into the canvas; that which is her! Here you find extraordinary woman, not because I painted them, but because they were brave enough to show the world their stripes.


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Phenomenal Woman
By Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

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