For years, I have observed how institutions claiming to support women artists can still operate through silence, opacity, and selective visibility.
I have been working as a photographic artist since 1977, developing a long-term research practice on female identity, social mimicry, trauma, anorexia as a coded language of the body, and the mechanisms of erasure that shape both private life and institutional recognition.
Recently, after months of preparation for a major photographic prize submission, I received no feedback, no dialogue, no articulated criteria — only silence.
This silence is not neutral.
It is a form of selection.
In an art world increasingly saturated with performative inclusion, I believe it is urgent to ask for accountability:
What are the criteria? What are the protocols? Who gets erased without explanation?
Visibility cannot be a slogan.
It must be a responsibility.
I am currently developing a major exhibition and publication project spanning my photographic archives from 1977 to the present, including a cycle inspired by Géricault’s The Raft of the Medusa, staged with my African greyhounds — a contemporary meditation on survival, displacement, and the European gaze.
I remain committed to the work.
Not because it is easy.
But because it is necessary.
Art history does not need more showcases. It needs truth.
