The Summer Exhibition at Lavitt Gallery, running until August 22, is in full swing, and there is one piece in particular that has people talking.
The artwork by Cork artist Éadaoin Glynn, titled Self-portrait with estrogen patch 1 (bathroom mirror selfie), is painted in acrylic on a wooden panel and framed with a neon yellow acrylic surround.
“It is a very striking piece,” says Gallery Director Brian Mac Domhnaill.
“This artwork brings the conversation about menopause into the room and is provoking great reactions.”
This is exactly the artist’s intention.
“Medically, the menopause is defined as ‘the ‘permanent cessation of the primary functions of the human ovaries,” muses Éadaoin.
The world ‘pause’ is a stop, an ending, and endpoint. Does the body grieve for its loss of fertility, I wondered?
Her own experience of navigating what she refers to as a “confusing land” informs the work.
“My rapid drop in estrogen caused a wide range of disruptive symptoms from the sudden surges of ‘hot flushes’, which washed over me in my own personal, intense heatwaves, to insomnia, brain fog, weight gain, fatigue, hair loss, and mysterious aches and pains.
“When I asked other women ‘how long does it last?’, the answers were vague and unsatisfactory. Many were not comfortable with my questions. The subject seemed taboo.”
This attitude, part embarrassment, part denial, has a lot to do with the modern influence of technology, Glynn argues.
“The filters and selfies of social media have created a culture that venerates an unlined face, smooth and youthful, with the illusion of continued fertility. The only references to menopausal women I came across in popular culture were as a punchline to a comedy routine or the old crone /witch figure of literature.
“I didn’t want to be a character in a comedy musical,” said Éadaoin
Medical Consensus
The artist and creator of the podcast, The Warrior Artist, is also frustrated by the lack of medical consensus on menopause.
“When I first had symptoms, the medical treatment offered was invasive. I felt judged and dismissed by my GP as she gave me a leaflet to read about the low risk of breast cancer,” she said.
Éadaoin came up with little tricks to manage her changing body and its fluctuating temperatures.
I learnt to wear cardigans instead of jumpers, nighties instead of pyjamas, so I could quickly remove an arm or a leg when hot flushes raged over me.
But the challenges mounted.
“My sunglasses fogged up when driving. I put on weight. My life-long low cholesterol score climbed up on every blood test. My eyes and skin and hair became dry and fragile. I got eye infections. I woke up with painful red lumps on my eyelids. My tear ducts had dried and hardened into worm-like shapes. Ironically, all I wanted to do was cry. My life-long battle with insomnia got worse.”
After several years, she spoke to a new GP.
“She gave me different and contradictory medical information. I no longer had to have a Merina coil fitted. I could wear patches instead. Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) was now considered a preventative therapy for heart disease in post-menopausal women.
“It made sense to take something if it would prevent heart problems.”
It wasn’t an easy decision for the artist.
“ I was very nervous and daunted by the idea of applying and ingesting hormones. I was prescribed an estrogen patch and a progesterone tablet to take at night. I was surprised by how small the patch was when I took it out of its protective, condom-sized wrapper. It seemed so strange and alien. My first estrogen patch. I documented the moment with a selfie in my bathroom mirror and a charcoal sketch,” said Éadaoin.
The Work
“I was supposed to apply a new patch twice a week, removing the old one, every three and a half days, to alternative sides of my body. I found this hard to remember.”
For Éadaoin, there was a connection between menopause and breastfeeding.
“I patted the side of my hip to check where the patch was before removing the old one. The patting reminded me of breast feeding. I was told to alternate breasts, to remember which breast the baby had fed from last, to prevent mastitis.
I used to put a hair bobble on alternative wrists. I frequently forgot to change the bobble and I would pat my breasts to feel which one was fuller, which one was emptier.
The same trick worked for her management of menopause.
“I learned to pat both sides of my body, pat pat. Tuesday morning, Friday night, pat pat – find where the patch was, remove the old patch, and then immediately put the new one on the other side.”
The patches worked, and also inspired her creatively.
“The symptoms I’d struggled with for several years faded away almost overnight. I was fascinated by the marks the residue of patches made. Ghost patch shapes that documented my hap hazard application. A patina of patches,” she said.
““My skin became a doll house sized, with herringbone parquet flooring. I took more selfies and made more sketches. They reminded me of the lines and crevices in rocks caused by erosion and weathering. They made me think of stretch marks, of scars and the black, sticky outlines left by childhood plasters.”
Gallery Director Brian Mac Domhnaill is delighted with the results.
“Our core mission at Lavit Gallery is to promote an appreciation of art but we also do our best to challenge and surprise our audience where possible,” he said. “We delight in selecting an exciting and impactful piece like this.”
