( s e c r e t )

In the imagination, sexuality always appears as libertarian, the escape from pleasure, the permission to spontaneity within capitalist obedience. It would be, as defined by Silvia Federici1 , “what is sold to us as the “other” of work: a space of freedom in which we can presumably be who we really are — a possibility of intimate and “genuine” connections in a universe of social relations. in which we are constantly forced to repress what we desire.” However, we create rules, we define times, responsibilities, duties, norms, we limit the meat. Anything that isn’t reproductive is obscene. All freedom is guarded.

In this ambiguous character of sexual relations, the woman is the one who suffers the most, bearing the responsibility for the pleasure of others in such a way that sex becomes a duty and the obligation to provide pleasure to men appears as an essential part of what is expected of women. in a patriarchal society. But who silences the gesture, violates desire, automates the libido, makes sex work? Who are the body’s controlling agents?

The exhibition “Segredo”, by Flavia Ventura, erupts from this question. Assuming the historical representation of the woman’s body and pornography as explicit symbols of manipulation and the repulsive appetites created by a sexist society, the artist proposes a reinterpretation of images immersed in this universe. The choice of revision is wise, it allows editing and silently exposing the consequences of the secular exploration of these representations.

If the initial purpose of the work is to appease the violence in the scene and de-objectify the woman, the gesture is simple: the man is suppressed. However, in the artist’s canvases this erasure appears much more subtle than the one that we, white, cis, straight men, fathers, brothers, husbands, boyfriends inflicted for centuries on women, subtracting them from history, imposing norms and standards of performance. to their bodies.

Filled with different shades of earthy tones, Flávia’s paintings seem to be in continuous movement, alive, with the erotic energy of the gesture, obstinately alternating between the abstract and the figurative. Gradually, female bodies emerge and, fluidly, entwine, dance and enjoy. Ink, converted into skin, embraces the human form and re-writes desire, the sensitive and the right to blessed2 delight.

Paulo Kassab Jr.

1. Zero point of the revolution, Silvia Federici;

2. Reference to the painting The Cursed Woman from 1859, by François Octave Tassaert, which is re-read by Flavia Ventura in the exhibition and renamed “The Blessed Woman”.

Flávia Ventura
Belo Horizonte, 1991

Based on research on the female orgasm, she investigates the displacement of discourses and protagonisms in relation to the body, gender, violence and sex. Bachelor of Fine Arts with a degree in painting from Escola Guignard (UEMG), she proposes a tension between drawing and painting, in dialogue with performance, installation and photography.