“I hope in 50 years’ time people think it was a joke that my book had to be written”: An interview with Katy Hessel
Speaking with Hessel, it’s difficult to imagine her not as an authority on women’s art. Yet the inspiration for her book, The Story of Art Without Men, reflects on a time when women were ‘missing’ within the artistic space, especially within popular culture. Hessel asks the questions: “Could I name twenty women artists off the top of my head? Ten pre-1950? Any pre-1850? The answer was no. Had I essentially been looking at the history of art from a male perspective? The answer was yes.” This is certainly no longer the case.
Hessel is the Encyclopedia Britannica of knowledge on women artists, creating a space that puts women back on the walls of an international gallery, one overwhelmingly comprised of men. She is also the founder of Instagram account @thegreatwomenartists (her very own gallery, of which she is a constant curator), writer for The Guardian, historian, broadcaster, podcaster, and Harper’s Bazaar’s new contributing editor. But, even with the work Hessel puts into her field, she stresses that the book is only one story of art, a “fraction of a fraction of a fraction” of the broader scene.
The need to continue exploring the story of women in art is tireless for Hessel – her newest fascination with Classics is a window into this. Her aim is to trace back the reasoning for the suppression of women artists, particularly regarding why the inception and progression of women’s art has been so limited.
“I’m very interested in creation stories and in the subjects in art history. So, I’m very interested in why the story of art was the story of art without women, and how we got to that point, and what was it about art that made people not take women seriously in art?” she questions.
It’s not to say that the Rodin’s or whatever shouldn’t exist. They should absolutely exist. They’re part of the story, but it’s about adding more stories to make us all feel included. Because museums are so, over there, and they should really be the beating heart of communities
– Katy Hessel
Hessel suggests this could be due to the portrayal of feminine subjects in artworks, and how they were “just sort of objectified.” She hopes that understanding the stories of these subjects, “the Susannas, the Judiths, the Joan of Arcs, the St Catherine of Alexandria, the Virgin Mary, the Mary Magdalene, the Eves, the Athenas,” and getting to the bottom of their history as removed from the male lens, will provide a sense of “justice”.
Alongside Hessel, women in all areas of research have been producing work highlighting the cultural gender disparity: from Susan Tomes’ Women and the Piano: A History in 50 Lives, Cat Bohannon’s Eve: How the Female Body Drove 200 Million Years of Human Evolution (featured in Hessel’s podcast), Claire L. Evans’ Broadband, and more.
Hessel highlights the ludicrousness of this movement needing to happen at all. Of course, it’s exciting to see women be venerated for their achievements, but Hessel hopes that “in 50 years’ time people think it was a joke that my book had to be written.” She also emphasises that in no way does the writing of these books and stories undermine the men we know of in these canons, but she asserts that everyone should feel they have something to ‘resonate’ with. Hessel adds: “It’s not to say that the Rodins’ or whatever shouldn’t exist. They should absolutely exist. They’re part of the story, but it’s just about adding more stories to make us all feel included. Because museums are so, over there, and they should really be the beating heart of communities.”
After three years, the amount of women artists and women sitters drastically increased. It felt like a museum for now, in the 21st century
– Katy Hessel
It’s important to separate women from other male artists for this reason. In Bohannon’s book, she identifies that, paleontologically speaking, women weren’t crafted from the rib of Adam – we have a whole evolution of our own that makes us unique and important, in the same way that women’s art doesn’t exist because of its association with male art.
In galleries, books, and across the media, women seem to be reduced to the wife, lover, daughter, friend, or sister of somebody – and it is through this connection that they are deemed important enough for a mention. Worthy of attention. Hessel is often asked about this, and it’s understandable why. In Lee Krasner’s obituary by The New York Times, she is written up as: “the wife and artistic partner of Jackson Pollock,” as though this increases the significance of her art. In the same way, Lee Miller was not primarily the wife of Rolan Penrose, and Dora Maar was not simply the partner of Pablo Picasso. Hessel’s view is different, she describes her book as a “dream party, they’re all in it, and they’re all there, bound in this art form, and they’re all just there on their own terms…even though I sort of hate ‘on their own terms’ as a phrase.”
The result of removing women from the story of art directly reflects how much of this art reaches the public. In The Story of Art Without Men, Hessel highlights that: “A study published in 2019 found that in the collections of eighteen major US art museums, 87 per cent of artworks were by men, and 85% by white artists. Currently women artists make up just 1% of London’s National Gallery.” She mentions that some galleries are taking notice of the imbalance now, and many are making impressive changes, including the National Portrait Gallery: “When that opened after three years, the amount of women artists and women sitters drastically increased. It felt like a museum for now, in the 21st century.”
I think that I love my work because I can just talk about women, and I don’t have to include them, and I don’t have to call them muses, and I don’t have to compare them to their make counterparts
– Katy Hessel
In my view, there is a certain irony in women subverting their history, particularly in the ‘luxurious Ladies Lounge’ featured at the Museum of Old and New Art (Mona), which highlights the history of misogyny by excluding men. Hessel smiles, saying: “I think people can do what they want in good spirits… I think that I love my work because I can just talk about women, and I don’t have to call them muses, and I don’t have to compare them to their male counterparts.”
Over the last century, more women have been researched and celebrated. Considering that many women weren’t allowed to exist in the artistic space, or were undervalued in it, there are many who have taken on a more ‘Emily Dickinson’, ‘sheltered genius’ kind of existence alongside some wonderful, trailblazing women. I ask Hessel, in the book, who is her favourite recluse and rebel. She draws attention to Gwen John’s quote on Celia Paul: “I have learned from John that you don’t need to shout in order to make an impact. I thought that was so incredible. Because of this idea, what does greatness and power have to mean?” Hessel adds that power “doesn’t mean blowing up countries in such horrific, inhumane ways, it doesn’t have to be like that. I think what Gwen John shows us is that, actually, introspective viewing is very powerful.” She compares this powerful feeling of introspection to “reading a book” and how “there’s nothing greater than just having conversation with you in your head.”
Hessel’s rebel could be Lee Miller, hopefully on everyone’s radar because of the book written by her son Anthony Penrose, The Lives of Lee Miller, and her biopic, Lee, directed by Ellen Kuras. Hessel describes Miller as someone who “kept on reinventing, just kept going forward, and what a body of work and life she left.” She also cites her love for Frida Kahlo, and Tracey Emin, who she interviewed on International Women’s Day this year.
People have been very responsive to the work of Tracey Emin. Her 1998 piece ‘My Bed,’ which shows an ‘absolute breakdown’ that she had, is a time capsule of that emotional space and perhaps a self-portrait. I ask Hessel if she has an equivalent – what is ‘Her Bed?’
In literal terms, Hessel’s actual bed is a display of her books (image above), or more books for her bed given that “the books literally go up to the ceiling.” But in self-portrait terms, Hessel cites her “desk” as a representation of herself. Given the clear effusiveness in her book and her conversation, this is unsurprising. Hessel confirms this, expressing the joy to “stick stuff everywhere, like a Lee Miller quote or a Georgia O’Keeffe postcard, and then you’d have a note from your friends and maybe a wristband, or a pass. I love that. I love the sort of debris.”
Hessel also suggests that “a portrait by Chantal Joffe” might feature in her desk self-portrait, which may be her own piece of vulnerability in the joyful chaos. In one of Hessel’s more personal articles, from 2023 – one of my favourites found in the research binge – Hessel says of Joffe that: “She has painted a record of the conversation. A record of that time that turned from winter to spring, from heartbreak to healing, from 28 to 29. How she saw it, and how she saw me.” It seems significant that Hessel cites it almost as an afterthought, like someone is returning the favour for her – someone memorialising Hessel in the story of art too. But I think she’s already cementing that.
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