Portfolio: Siobhán Arnold

 
Mary Magdalene Removing Her Jewels, 2010, archival pigment print, 44 x 30 in.[Image description: A velvety blue dress floats at the center of the image, as though a person is standing with their arm stretched upward. Beneath it is a broken pearl nec…

Mary Magdalene Removing Her Jewels, 2010, archival pigment print, 44 x 30 in.

[Image description: A velvety blue dress floats at the center of the image, as though a person is standing with their arm stretched upward. Beneath it is a broken pearl necklace and scattered pearls. On the right is a table with an orange cloth draped over it.]

 

Artist Siobhán Arnold has long been fascinated by the ways in which culture places women into assigned categories, on either the “good” or “bad” side of femininity. In her work, she has turned her attention to a particularly powerful force behind this dynamic’s creation: the Roman Catholic religion, which models these categories on two major figures in their sacred texts. The Virgin Mary—who miraculously birthed the Son of God sans sex—is the epitome of motherhood, purity, and approved womanhood. Mary Magdalene, in contrast, represents what women need to overcome: lavishness, sexuality, and all other moral crimes embedded in the female body. This binary code for femininity did not appear the moment God built humans from dust, or, really, in the biblical narrative at all. No, these categories were formed throughout years of religion-building, moral codes, cultural association, and the very human practice of myth-making.

The conventional figure of Mary Magdalene is, for the most part, a construction. She is often known as the sex worker who washed Jesus’ feet with her hair, or as a women Jesus healed from possession by seven demons. The most common associations around Mary Magdalene— wealthy sex worker, penitent prostitute, etc.— are not directly or clearly tied to her in the Bible. Regardless, Western culture decided on Magdalene’s life story a long time ago, and it kept deciding that she would be sexual, scandalous, and oh-so-sordid. So, what happens when a different myth is made?

The reimagining of the imagined is behind much of Siobhán Arnold’s work, and her use of myth-making first appeared in her practice with the series, Cloths of Heaven (2010). Each work is a recreation of a painting that depicts an important female figure from Western cultural narratives. Arnold utilizes fabric to create body-less portraits of these women through their clothing, and she photographs the scenes with film. Her Roman Catholic background informs the subjects in this body of work: women in religious stories who had been wronged or who had overcome some form of adversity. One such woman is the sinfully sacred Mary Magdalene. Arnold portrays her in three pieces, including The Melancholic Magdalene, Mary Magdalene Removing Her Jewels, and Martha and Mary

 
The Melancholic Magdalene, 2010, archival pigment print, 40 x 32 in.[Image description: An elegant gold and white dress forms the silhouette of a sitting woman. A shiny golden sash drapes over an empty space as though a body were there.]

The Melancholic Magdalene, 2010, archival pigment print, 40 x 32 in.

[Image description: An elegant gold and white dress forms the silhouette of a sitting woman. A shiny golden sash drapes over an empty space as though a body were there.]

 

In The Melancholic Magdalene, mirroring Artemisia Gentileschi’s 17th century painting, Arnold creates a tension between cultural and experiential understanding. Without the physical body revealing the meaning of the woman’s posture, ambiguity hangs in the air. The fabric rests in a seated position, at least relaxed and at best proud. The golden hues of the fabric and the light focus attention on Magdalene’s silhouette. Our eyes linger, basking in the presence of something beautiful. Yet the work’s title suggests we are spectators in a moment of pensive sadness. The tension between the title’s information and the fabric-body’s posture begs us to ask an important question about interpretation. How much do we know about a woman and her feelings from what we are told, versus from what we see in her embodied existence?

Arnold draws reference from Spanish painter Alonso del Arco for Mary Magdalene Removing Her Jewels, which provides us with an image much more titillating than the original painting’s partial nudity. The fabric-body commands the space by floating in the center of the image. The curling of the white and blue material leads the eye to a section of blue fabric outstretched toward the top left corner. This is the highest point on the picture plane and it reflects a moment full of energy, be it anger or relief, as Magdalene removes the jewels to reject the stereotype of sinful decadence bestowed upon her. Our eyes then fall down to the floor, pearls scattered and perhaps forgotten beneath the powerful figure. Arnold’s construction presents the viewer with an autonomous Magdalene. We witness the woman’s command of herself and her environment without being granted the privilege of gazing upon her body. 

 
Martha and Mary, 2010, archival pigment print, 32 x 40 in. [Image description: In the lower left corner, soft copper fabric curves as though it were covering the arm of a seated person. A shining red silk curls in the center of the space, shaped like a bent arm. To the right, a forest green fabric drapes from the highest point and falls to rest on the table.]

Martha and Mary, 2010, archival pigment print, 32 x 40 in.

[Image description: In the lower left corner, soft copper fabric curves as though it were covering the arm of a seated person. A shining red silk curls in the center of the space, shaped like a bent arm. To the right, a forest green fabric drapes from the highest point and falls to rest on the table.]

 

Arnold derives Martha and Mary from Caravaggio’s 1598 painting, which depicts the older sister Martha scolding Magdalene for her lifestyle, urging her to be more like Christ. Arnold’s use of fabric emphasizes the higher position of Magdalene. Martha’s drab copper fabric bundles in the lower left of the image, whereas Magdalene’s silky red and cascading emerald fabrics lead the eye upward and away from the position of traditional morality. We are captivated by the glamorous, glorious, and supposedly scandalous woman in this image. Arnold’s photograph leans into the Catholic practice of visual richness to suggest that there is more beauty and life in the truth of the woman who has been shamed for centuries.

Employing photography and the narrative power of absence, Arnold challenges the viewer to create new meanings from the tension between what tradition has taught us and what we see before us. Both Western religious tradition and the historical images from which Cloths of Heaven are modeled dictate a certain understanding of womanhood. By opening up a space within the confines of dress, action, and story, Arnold proposes a new moment for Mary Magdalene in mythology, one that is tied to what could be if we were brave enough to explore the empty space one-sided history leaves.

—Eliana Dianda, writer, filmmaker, and performance artist. Dianda was a participant in the 2021 HereIn Writers Workshop.

Previous
Previous

Portfolio: Adam Belt

Next
Next

Portfolio: Tyler Young