Potion

Essay on the occasion of the Anita DeSoto exhibition, Potion at Eastern Southland Gallery, Gore, Aotearoa-New Zealand, 30 March – 12 May 2024

The woods she loved, they were her domain. A goddess of nature, a nymph, she was at peace with the world. As a follower of Diana who oversaw fertility and childbirth, to remain a virgin was her imperative, her choice. She was beautiful and free. Her name was Syrinx. He was a god of pastures and shepherds; production. He was part beast, goat, a satyr. He was lustful, lecherous, egotistic, famed for his sexual prowess, it was what drove him. He saw her, wanted her. She feared him, what he would do to her. Fleeing to the river, water of purity, she looked to the water nymphs, the naiads, to save her. His forceful hands almost upon her, it was a desperate moment, the naiads transformed her into reeds. Poor, sad Pan sighed and the reeds breathed music. He made them his object, an instrument under his control. He was just amorous. She had no right to evade him. Virgins meant men like him could be sure the offspring were of his seed. She was not the only one to suffer such a fate. Fate? She’s now dead. She was simply dispensable.

This is the story depicted in Anita DeSoto’s Her Fire for Life, after Jordaens. It is a story of greed and power, not of love. It is a story of freedom and security stolen. It is a story of women who know their own minds and refuse to acquiesce, and of women’s connection with nature. It is a story of control over women’s bodies, treating them as useful objects. Sound familiar, even today?

In visiting Anita DeSoto’s home there is the feeling of wonderland about it. Tucked into an almost hidden corner of Waitati village her garden spills onto the grass verge as flowers, vegetables and fruit trees mingle in disorderly fashion, yet none feel out of place. Layer upon layer, just like her paintings, one can almost imagine half-naked Rubenesque women laughing while chubby cupids gleefully dance around them. Perhaps it is my imagination gone wild after viewing Anita’s seven paintings for her exhibition titled ‘Potion’. There’s no doubt of the impact these works have on the mind, their size alone leaves an impression. The swarthes of vibrant colour, sense of movement, curious detail and human figures give these paintings a liveliness that follows us home. They connect nature’s fruitfulness with feminine energy and wisdom.  In both Anita’s garden and her paintings there is a respectful celebration of life, there is joy.

 It is celebration of life that drew Anita to Jacques Jordaens’ (1593-1678), Allegory of Fertility paintings. These works explode with abundance of flowers, fruit, children and groups of women in their depiction of mythological narratives. Jordaens is of the Baroque period which saw paintings of violence and passion, and is part of the horrific witch hunting era. An influence on Anita is Aotearoa photographer Anne Shelton, who also occupies the space of feminist artists who retell and reimagine history. Shelton’s recent exhibition, I am an old Phenomenon, She can Lie on Her Back and Sink is an artistic response to the figure of the witch from both indigenous Aotearoa and European lineages. Moved by this theme Anita narrates from her UK-European heritage lens. As Anita explains, today the witch as a concept opens a creative space which women can own. In this time of climate threat, not simply human-made but the result of industrialisation and capitalist greed, the spiritual connection that indigenous peoples and women have with nature is increasingly seen as hope for the future.

            Pre-the 14th century, witchcraft was accepted in society, a means to achieve goals, but it became demonised. Indigenous cultures suffered a similar fate as white rule spread. The Malleus maleficarum (The Witch’s Hammer), published in the 1480s, determined that witchcraft was evil, anti-religious, and associated with women and carnal lust, (one could describe the author Heinrich Kramer as an early ‘incel’). Thus, began the ‘witch craze’. Tens of thousands were executed, mostly women. While that came to an end in Europe during the 17th century it was not until 1951 that the UK Witchcraft Act originally of 1542 was repealed. As recently as 2022 Scotland’s First Minister, Nicola Sturgeon made a formal apology to the estimated 4000 who were accused under the Act in her country…”they were accused and killed, because they were poor, different, vulnerable or, in many cases, just because they were women.”

            In both history and narrative, women, and their knowledge have been murdered, silenced, forgotten, their stories minimised, even romanticised. Anita’s Potion seeks to aid in redressing this injustice and draw attention to patriarchal threats that still loom, that frighteningly in some spheres are presently gaining force. Reinterpreting historical art as a means of communicating a message allows emphasis on different elements. She brings the women to the fore while ghosting their male counterparts. You will note that some of the figures have colourful skin which signals inclusiveness of all oppressed peoples – non-white ethnicities, and trans and gender diverse. These paintings brim with symbolism and surrealist magic. The free and fluid brushwork flow in the abstract expressionism Anita had, of recent times been favouring. Yet she found herself moving towards a more representational style so her paintings could clearly express her voice. Potion prompts viewers to ask, ‘What is my story? What really is the story of those gone before us? Why does this matter now?’

            I end with Jennifer Higgie from The Other Side, A Journey into Women, Art and the Spiritual World, “The work of artists who insist that this earthly realm is not all there is embodies the idea of possibility – surely, an offshoot of joy.”     

Bice Grace Lapin, March 2024