Women, Peace, Art: Breaking or Reinforcing Stereotypes?

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In September 2024, the Armenian Center for Contemporary Experimental Art (ACCEA), in collaboration with the Women’s Fund in Armenia, hosted the exhibition “Women, Peace, Art,” showcasing the work of eight female artists with the objective of exploring the complex interplay between gender, art and peace.

The title of the exhibition itself makes a bold statement, particularly in a climate where women’s art is often politicized. It stands as a catalyst for deeper inquiry and could easily serve as the foundation for an independent research study or thematic exhibition.

The subject matter tackled by the artists is notably significant, as it seeks to break the silence surrounding war and invite conversations about peace in Armenia—a context where memories of the war remain fresh. This means going against deeply rooted military-patriotic beliefs within the exhibition’s temporal and spatial context. Yet, despite its ambitious intent, the project demands great responsibility in handling sensitive themes and navigating delicate boundaries. The greatest risk lies in potentially achieving the opposite effect: reinforcing these entrenched beliefs rather than challenging them.

In presenting women’s art, there’s a propensity to frame it as gentle and lyrical, overlooking its capacity to be purposefully aggressive, painful and provocative. 

When women’s roles in peace are reduced to emotional or maternal instincts, and their art dismissed as superficial expression, peace itself devolves into abstract propaganda—resulting in false sentimentality and a loss of depth. In the context of peace, women are often perceived as purely emotional and empathetic beings, stripped of agency and political will. 

Have the artists managed to transcend these challenges, move beyond entrenched narratives, and create authentic, progressive pieces of art? What expressive tools did they use? Which themes have dominated their focus? The answers to these questions will determine the exhibition’s success. This review aims to examine the systemic problems surrounding politicized art and female artists in Armenia.

Hasmik Avetisyan’s collage series, crafted from magazines and book cutouts, perfectly suited the subject. The central collage featured an image of a man and a woman, with separate collages of men and women to the left and right. She titled the piece “Woman, Peace, Metamorphoses.” The description read: “A woman is nature’s metamorphosed wonder, a creator, a preserver; loving, patient, warm and restless, deep and also unpredictable. Can a woman preserve the fragile peace of Earth? I think so. BUT. Only by cooperating with a man. Only through mutually conscious cooperation, in my opinion, can we save the world. Mutually conscious. Cooperation.”

Avetisyan’s piece failed to address what specifically hinders cooperation or why women must be peacekeepers. Instead, issues relied on generalizations. The text portrayed women as a metamorphosis connected to nature, reduced to emotional characteristics: “loving”, “patient”, “warm” and “unpredictable”. Meanwhile, peace was characterized as “fragile” and “uneasy”, only preservable through “cooperation” with men. The piece relegated women’s contributions to a secondary, supporting, dependent role. Rather than challenging traditional female stereotypes, it reinforced them by reducing women to emotional beings. This framing transformed peace into a natural phenomenon achievable only through “mutual cooperation” with men, rather than recognizing it as a political act.

Although the artist emphasizes cooperation between women and men in the description, men dominate the collages: they are shown putting a cigarette in the woman’s mouth or hugging her from behind—both visuals leave a heavy impression. While this might represent the artist’s view of an ideal order, the placement of men and women on opposite sides emphasizes division rather than inclusion.

The artist’s choice of subjects is telling: the women-only sections feature celebrities and fashion figures, while men are portrayed as “serious” figures wearing ties or holding political positions. This reveals another layer of stereotypical thinking: women’s roles are reduced to beauty standards with “successful” women being tied to consumer culture, presented as objects of beauty rather than active subjects.

Although the artist may be offering a constructive idea and deliberately justifying it by overlooking problematic elements, the piece ultimately serves as a psychological reflection of society’s subconscious worldview and way of thinking.

Shushan Vardanyan presented three narrow, long canvases extending from ceiling to floor. The mixed-media work, titled “Nature, Woman, Chaos” featured various images and texts. The description reads as follows: “Even though women give birth to men, we live in a men’s world where women are powerless. To be a woman is to be in harmony with elements of nature, where the fifth element is the woman herself—Woman-creator, Woman-love, Woman-peace. And the age of harmonious energy will come.” From a conceptual point of view, this work shares the same problematic approach as the one mentioned earlier. While the opening words of the description are promising, and set an expectation that women’s impact will finally be acknowledged, the subsequent statement contradicts the initial assertion: “…we live in a men’s world where women are powerless.” 

The artist creates a problematic contradiction by simultaneously describing the woman as a “creator” and as “powerless”. Just like in the example above, where the woman was referred to as a “wonder of nature,” here she is portrayed as a “creator,” “love,” and “peace”—an approach just as dangerous as other forms of discrimination. These are unrealistic expectations and demands that women are supposed to live up to; essentialist ideas, such as viewing women as the fifth element of nature, or attributing natural and unchangeable traits to them. The idealization of women, though borne of good intentions, creates another kind of trap where they are expected to embody moralistic, sacralized traits. Most importantly, this approach deprives women of agency and the freedom to make choices outside conventional expectations. It places a double burden on their shoulders: the pressure of traditional societal limitations on one side, and the impossible standards of “sacralization” on the other.

The next artist, Ine Sergeyan’s piece, titled “Cycle”, was done in vain. Here, too, the idea hinges on essentialist concepts. The piece was visually impactful—a giant aquarium separated into two layers. At the base level lay a female figure that the artist had sewn from fabric and filled with soft material. The figure was in black and white, creating a grim impression. The upper layer’s surface was completely covered in soil and plants. The description read, “Women and nature are co-authors: life is created in the soil in nature, just like it’s created in a woman’s womb. And that process is a constant cycle—new lives are created, from a seed to the vastness of the natural world.” Similar to the previous artist’s piece, women are assimilated with nature, reduced to a reproductive function, relegated to the role of a mere passive object. The title “Rotation/Cycle” is problematic as well, as it assumes a “natural” and unchangeable state and limits the possibility of social change, presenting women’s role as predetermined. In other words, motherhood is not presented as a choice and a possibility.

Interestingly, the piece’s visual composition contradicts its stated concept of “harmony” between women and nature. The artist seems to have subconsciously expressed a state of oppression: the woman lies passively with folded legs and arms, eyes closed, displayed as if in a window—in stark contrast to the vibrant living state of the plants. The visual language appears to speak more truthfully than the concept statement of the piece.  

Marine Galstyan’s “Internal Feelings” consists of two graphic works surrounded by handwritten text. The description reads: “This piece expresses women’s internal feelings and sensations that the world never sees. It portrays the ways women express their inner anxiety. Both fragments have a character looking directly at the viewer, and that character is a woman’s prudence.” While the piece isn’t visually groundbreaking, its concept offers some intriguing elements. It focuses on women’s subjective experience, stripped of socially imposed roles. The title “Internal Feelings” suggests the artist’s intention to shift focus from universal problems to personal ones, exploring what typically stays in the shadows.

However, the text diminishes its impact through quotes like “Women often reveal an incredible ability to overcome challenges…”, “Women, like all people, have general and personal traits…”, and “We often meet women who have a strong desire to help others and they do that without being asked to…” These quotes convey several problematic notions. The text demeans women’s capacity by treating them as a homogenous group and portraying their resistance as unexpected, thus ignoring the diversity of personal experiences. “Just like all people” positions women as the “other”, as if they are “women” first and “human” second. This writing demonstrates society’s ongoing struggle to accept women as individuals.

Another artist featured in the “Women, Peace, Art” exhibition is Meri Matevosyan. Her piece, “Escape From Reality,” features nude women painted on long pieces of wood, with one holding a baby. The description reads: “Nudity as a form of freedom. The presence of nude women in this piece emphasizes the idea of freedom: freedom from external layers, society’s opinion and limitations. It’s a sign of self-awareness and self-acceptance, which hints at these women’s inner peace.” The artist connects nudity and peace in an interesting way, viewing it as a symbol of inner freedom and expression of peace. However, the title “Escape From Reality” seems to contradict its context. If nudity is presented as a symbol of freedom and self-awareness, then why “Escape” rather than confrontation with reality? Another question arises: is it even possible to reach true inner peace without redefining societal expectations? Although Matevosyan speaks of freedom from external layers—in this case, societal opinions and limitations—she hasn’t fully engaged with the issues that she raises. She hasn’t analyzed the obstacles women face or defined her form of resistance. Thus, there is a paradox: while the piece is about breaking free from external layers (clothes), the artist herself has fallen into another “layer”, that of escape.

Matevosyan’s exploration of peace in her work is conceptually interesting. By placing a woman with a child in the center, adorned with a halo-like shape above her head, she adds depth to her work by emphasizing the connection between motherhood and peace, a frequently encountered theme. Yet unlike the other artists, she doesn’t emphasize motherhood in her description, suggesting she’s not glorifying motherhood but rather exploring internal freedom. Matevosyan focuses on individual emotional experiences. Even against the backdrop of larger issues, inner peace remains valuable. People are often reprimanded for expressing emotions, especially in times of war, and the pursuit of inner peace and the need for emotional expression becomes unimportant or even shameful. The artist suggests that individual peace and wellbeing carry equal importance to collective peace. Indeed, achieving global peace may be impossible without first finding inner peace.

The next artist, who is also the curator of the exhibition, is Emma Dilanyan. Her work shares similarities with Meri Matevosyan’s, as both feature a series of nude women. The series titled “Nue” was accompanied by this text: “A woman is often described as adaptable and complex. She can be both strong and fragile, a peacemaker and a warrior, loving and demanding. This diversity indicates women to be an important contributor to peace. It not only explores the physical and emotional vulnerability, but also affirms women’s strength and resilience. A woman becomes a symbol of hope, inspiring peaceful coexistence and mutual understanding, even during the devastation of a war.” 

Several problematic approaches emerge here. The artist represents women in contrasting roles: “strong and fragile,” “a peacemaker and a warrior,” “loving and demanding.” While this may appear inclusive, it reinforces stereotypical thinking that casts women as “natural” peacemakers. The notion that a woman’s “diversity” makes her an “important contributor to peace” is particularly problematic. Unlike Meri Matevosyan, who focused on individual experiences, Emma Dalinyan presents a consolidated image of women that generalizes and neglects subjective experiences. Though both artists employ nudity in their work, their conceptual approaches stand in contradiction to each other.

In Dilanyan’s piece, women are depicted not as subjects but as objects, as if the artist has stripped them of their individuality and assigned them stereotypical roles. Through the exposure of their nude bodies, the artist has subjected these women to public scrutiny without even the protection of clothing. While Matevosyan presents nudity as an expression of women’s free will and self-liberation, in Dilanyan’s work, nudity renders women vulnerable and exposed to public judgement. This treatment reflects the dangerous consequences of the sacralization of women—a particularly troubling theme given the additional challenges women face during wartime. 

The next artist, Kima Harutyunyan, presented four pieces. Her work “Women and Rights”—though created in the context of war—focused precisely on women’s rights. The description reads: “There are still countries where women are deprived of their rights, where the law doesn’t protect them and they’re subjected to various forms of abuse. This issue becomes more critical in times of war because of gender discrimination.” Her piece features sculptures of female figures who are behind bars below their waist. It stands out as one of the few works in the exhibition that directly addresses women’s rights and abuse. The artist creates a powerful allegory by placing bars around the figures’ hips, immediately invoking associations of violence in viewers’ minds. These bars can be interpreted in many ways; limitations to rights, societal stereotypes, physical and psychological abuse, as and barriers to freedom.

Harutyunyan’s other works––“Bandage,” “Loss,” “Risen From Ashes”— like most of the exhibition’s pieces, focus on victimhood, which risks reinforcing an image of powerlessness. The questions raised appear rhetorical, emerging from a position of helplessness and oppression, without offering paths to action. While answers are either absent or remain superficial, the mere act of posing these questions demonstrates an attempt to engage with these issues. The questions create space for discourse, inviting reflection and shared exploration. These conceptual works not only remain true to their theme but also capture a distinct moment in time—the artist conveys post-war experiences (some personal) that were relevant during the exhibition’s runtime. The absence of proposed solutions represents a more honest answer during this period of healing and uncertainty, rather than offering simplistic answers that might ring hollow and prove counterproductive. 

Reflection, an element of engaging with reality, is central to all of Kima Harutyunyan’s works. Her pieces carry a restorative quality, addressing important and relevant topics even as their answers remain elusive. The main challenge of these works lies in their over-explanation, which diminishes their artistic complexity and emotional impact, limiting viewers’ opportunity for interpretation.

While the artist uses imagery that evokes gender symbolism, she carefully avoids reinforcing stereotypes. Her use of universal symbols—bandages, birds rising from ashes, bars—reduces the depth of the piece, yet makes its message more accessible to viewers. 

General Intentions and Curation

The exhibition was problematic both in its individual works and overall curatorial approach. The choice of artists, works, subjects, and media left the exhibition conceptually fragile. The curatorial decisions lacked clear logic—works appeared randomly selected without internal connections, suggesting an absence of careful conceptual planning. The three themes of “women”, “peace”, and “art” remained disconnected from each other. The superficial treatment of questions and lack of deep analysis suggest that both curator and artists prioritized visual expression over substance. For an exhibition addressing such pressing contemporary issues, the concept should have been primary, with visual language serving to support it.

Red walls were used for some pieces, and red color was generally dominant in the exhibition. While visually appealing, the conceptual reasoning behind this choice remains unclear. Red typically symbolizes war, violence, blood and conflict—elements that contradict the exhibition’s theme. The color also carries associations with female sexuality, inadvertently reinforcing the very stereotypes the exhibition aimed to break.

The works in the “Women, Peace, Art” exhibition lacked specific temporal and spatial context, remaining too abstract. Even when addressing universal themes, it’s essential to establish a concrete foundation for artistic ideas. For women in Armenia, peace through art cannot be addressed in purely abstract terms. In a country where uncertainty, political tension, and the aftermath of war are ever-present, peace transcends philosophical ideology to become a vital necessity.

While some artists seem to run away from their lived reality by retreating into generalized, overused notions, this does not reflect the work of female artists in Armenia. During the independence era, many women artists emerged who boldly challenged conservative social norms and advanced provocative new discourses. Yet in Armenia, as this project reveals, we lack systematic memory. The artistic achievements from the 1980s to 2010s have faded from collective memory, causing new projects to start from scratch rather than building upon existing foundations.

Et Cetera

[Art Speak]