Fraser sees me, I see myself

This essay originally appeared in New Zealand Art at Te Papa (Te Papa Press, 2018).

Jacqueline Fahey has always looked to the events of her own life to provide the content for her art. Her fervent belief that women’s experience as wives, mothers and homemakers is a valid subject for art generated some of the most startling and stridently feminist paintings produced in New Zealand in the 1970s.

Fahey’s paintings from this period lead the viewer into the private sphere of the family home, revealing the seldom-represented difficulties inherent in the negotiation of domestic life. Without sugar-coating the subject, her works broach the complex issues of sibling and marital discord, the generational divide, and the malaise of domestic isolation that afflicted the lives of many women in the post-war era — the condition given the name ‘suburban neurosis’ by Fahey’s husband, prominent psychiatrist Fraser McDonald.

The complexity of marital relations comes under scrutiny, quite literally, in the painting Fraser sees me, I see myself. The dual process of seeing and being seen is highlighted in the work as Fraser’s distorted eye focuses on Fahey through a magnifying glass while the artist, positioned outside the picture plane, is reflected back to herself and the viewer through a mirror placed on the table before her. The two views, represented in the painting and reiterated in the title of the work, suggest that the way Fraser perceives his wife and her perception of herself are two very different things.

Two books are strategically positioned in front of Fahey’s reflected image: a biography of acclaimed English novelist Graham Greene, and a copy of National Geographic with a cover image of a Western woman holding two young orangutans in a jungle setting. The magazine image of the woman is aligned with the image of Fahey in the mirror, while the portrait of Graham Greene is oriented towards Fraser. This draws attention to the long-held association of women with nature and men with culture — a binary opposition vehemently contested by the feminist movement. The positioning of two lemons in the space between the books raises questions about the polarisation of the sexes, positing perhaps that, like the two pieces of fruit, men and women are members of the same species, equally valuable but always individual.

Bronwyn Lloyd