George Bellows, Stag at Sharkey's, 1909

We're at the halfway point now in our exploration of the motion of art. At this time I'd like to say that I struggled with the exact subject of this collection for a good long while. The idea came to me as I poured over the text book, preparing for a dreaded test that never reared its ugly head. As I studied up on my 20th century art, I spotted Bird in Space, and immediately began to plan out an elaborate series on Weightlessness. While that may have been a fun experiment, I felt increasingly limited by the specificity. Motion allows for so much more wiggle room.

Just for the sake of demonstration, let's bring gender into the discussion. What defines movements as inherently masculine or feminine? As cool as George Bellow's Stag at Sharkey's may be, it also happens to serve as a prime example of the distinction in society and art made between the two sexes. Up in the ring, two muscular ferocious men duke it out for glory as anxious gamblers and sports enthusiasts look on,  savoring every blow traded between the two men. The painting practically swings on it's mounting with the final collision between the unstoppable force, and the immovable object, their muscles tightened, their veins popping. It is no surprise that a painting depicting boxing in 1909 lacks a single woman in the mix. However, if the crowd and ring were peeled away, the gloves taken, and features removed from the remaining figures, the genderless forms would still appear to most to carry an air of masculinity.

The problem stems from an association with certain motions and poses with gender. Warrior paintings such as Antonio Canova's Theseus Fighting the Centaur and Stag at Sharkey's depict strong male characters lashing out violently, the beauty of the pieces lying in their brutality. If someone walked up to me and said, "Name the two baddest dudes you know from Art History," I'd immediately jump to those works, but just about anyone could come up with some heroic male figure. But replace "dudes" with "dudettes" and suddenly you've reached an impasse.

 You see, we associate females and art with Mona Lisa and The Birth of Venus, pretty faces that occasionally serve as centerpieces to the action about them. For this reason I hail the subverting force of works such as Munch's Death of Marat and Gentileschi's Judith and Holofernes, which place the power in the hands of the women, and challenge gender norms, as did the women they depict.