What Grace Weaver knows about women
Paint me like one of your Weaver girls.
I live about a six-minute walk from the A train. I can make it in two to three minutes if I run. Yesterday, I was a little behind schedule making my way to a friend's baby naming ceremony, and on this 95-degree day, I had my purse, a present, and my sparkly green water bottle.
Leaving the apartment in a rush, I look down at my phone at 12:31. My train is at 12:35. I don’t want to—but I know it’s time to run. My bags swing from side to side as people watch me speed past them in a dress and tabis that are already cutting into my heel. I make it to the elevator that takes you down to the platform at 12:33, and wait for what feels like an eternity but is only 60 seconds. At 12:34 I hear the screeching of the train pulling into the station through about-to-open elevator doors. Finally, I race down a set of stairs and see that a few people are still getting on. As soon as I make it to the train—my purse snaps off my shoulder and lands back on the platform. I screamed watching my keys fly out of the bag and land inches away from the platform edge. This woman wearing a mask rushes to help me as I straddle the train and the platform, throwing the other million things I’m holding on the grimy floor of the A and grabbing what I can before the doors shut behind me. Everyone is staring at me and I look back at them and mouth “drama” but no one smiles or cares. That is what a Grace Weaver painting feels like. The 35-year-old Brooklyn-based artist encapsulates the tragicomic everyday by somehow turning them into small spectacles. There is color and action and noodly limbs that sway like Gumby on the go. How it feels to rush (which I know well), is perfectly captured on the canvas.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the women of Grace Weaver. They are awkward, self-optimizing, and trying their best. She gives weight to 10-step skin routines, taking out the trash, sitting at a bar, lying in hotel rooms naked, scrolling on your phone, and running late to the train. She understands that a body in motion stays in motion, and in this case, her portraits almost always are. She describes each character as an “emotional self-portrait” or stand-in for herself that showcases the theater of public life. Although the subjects look different than her, her empathy (and parody) for individualist and communal experiences is apparent, allowing her viewers to see themselves inside the complex, bright world she creates.
"Emphasizing the weight and gravity of a figure makes visible the invisible: psychological states like anxiety, sadness, or self-consciousness. I’ve always been interested in very, very subtle emotional territory, like a painting of someone being passive-aggressive or subtly self-conscious—these tiny, non-grand emotions. In these paintings, I want to push that type of discomfort into a feeling of failure. Or the feeling of watching yourself being watched failing.”
—Grace Weaver
The scale of her work is typically huge—XL-sized paintings that showcase women equally as large. Using masonry brushes typically reserved for concrete, the big swirly brushstrokes create powerful bottle-shape curves that are accented by dusty pink, marigold, and magma red. Weaver tells NYLON in an interview that she “wanted to make something that was aggressively communicative” at the beginning of her career. With a deep understanding of figurative paintings, she has created a visual language that exemplifies the need for public female self-presentation, whether we like it or not. She pushes boundaries in the 2020 James Cohan show STEPS, where women don’t look particularly happy, their skirts are shown blowing in the wind, tripping down stairs, and running into someone around a street corner.
Outfits & Weaver
As someone who can get tired of scrolling the same Pinterest boards for outfit inspiration, I wondered what it would be like to use the relatable scenes from Weaver’s paintings as a starting point. How would it feel to dress like a Weaver woman? Below you will find some outfit templates inspired by this idea, and perhaps some styling approaches to take with you.
Moments before I ran out the door to the baby naming ceremony. J.W. Anderson bag (similar here), Sies Marjan crocodile dress (here, or similar), grey tabi mary janes (here or these for far less are fun).
No, I would not work out in this but have you ever had a sweatshirt on hand for a breezy day at the beach? If things get better with age I’m approaching magnificent vintage sweatshirt (here, and here), shell necklaces (this would be cute on a rope, classic 2006 vibes here), Gimaguas red crochet skirt (here, or similar), my favorite Cecilie Bahnsen x Suicoke sandals that last forever (a bunch of sizes).
I was immediately drawn to the pineapple shirt and threw on my favorite Juliet Johnston hibiscus carpenter pants (I found mine second-hand but you can grab them here, or paint a pair of dickies and make them your own!), Commission pink top (it’s sold out but you can buy mine lol), vintage scarf (similar), Loewe sunglasses (here and similar), sandals from Black-owned boutique Sincerely, Tommy in BK.
This is perhaps my favorite outcome from this exercise, and felt very *me*. My favorite stompers by Molly Goddard (here, or similar), Chopova Lowena skirt, (they’re an investment but here, and here), Sandy Liang peter pan top (similar), best bag I bought in Greece (so many on their site).
Yes. We have all slouched over our computers, and I am in fact doing it right now. Next time you throw on some basketball shorts, why not add some tension with a fancy top? No guarantees it helps us sit up better. Molly Goddard top (similar), Relax Lacrosse shorts (mine were a collab but how cute are these??), Havaianas, Archestratus food and books tote (similar).
Ok! That was a lot and my camera roll has even more. I hope this was a fun little exercise in the beauty of shopping your closet, and remembering that we can pull outfit inspiration from anywhere. I love you all. goodbye!
xo Kalli
