Sarah Cain’s Girl Power Paintings
by Cynthia Cruz on February 26, 2014
Sarah Cain, “Untitled (ribbon
weave)” (2014), feathers,
string, acrylic on canvas, 33 x
26 inches (83.8 x 66 cm) (all
images courtesy Galerie
Lelong)
It’s not easy being a girl.
Lately, I’ve noticed posters
up in the New York City
subways: portraits of young
girls beneath the heading,
“I’m a girl: I’m beautiful the
way I am!” These posters,
part of a Bloomberg-led
initiative, states on their
website, “This Fall New
York City recognizes that
girls as young as 6 and 7 are
struggling with body image
and self-esteem.” Being a girl
has become more and more
dangerous. The poster
campaign is a kind of
protective force for girls, a
sort of Big Sister for girls —
protecting them from the
ravages of American culture
with its Abercrombie & Fitch thongs for 10 year olds, and Victoria Secret campaigns aimed at pre-teens.
More often than not, when I see young girls they don’t look like children. They look like tiny women
wearing miniature versions of women’s clothing, painted nails, and make up.
Sarah Cain, “It’s Your Day!” (2013), acrylic, string, balloon, and crystal on canvas, 104 x 72 inches (264.2
x 182.9 cm)
Walking into Sarah Cain’s current show, Burning Bush, at Galerie Lelong is to be restored. Walking into
the gallery is like walking into an eleven-year old girl’s birthday party with Tavi Gevinson, a pink donkey
piñata, confetti, Mylar balloons, My Little Ponies, a floor of beads and jewels, and a giant, sheet cake with
pink, mint green and purple frosting frosted on it. While listening to Courtney Love’s song “Doll Parts,” “I
want to be the girl with the most cake.”
The title of Cain’s show, Burning Bush, seems, at first, to signify that the show, itself, is a “burning bush,”
meaning: a sign from above. I’d say the show is a sign; that the title of the show means to say that the
show, and Cain’s work, have something important to say about the current state of girlhood and being
female in our culture. But that isn’t all. In the Bible, the burning bush is a plant that, though engulfed in
flames, does not burn up. In Exodus, where the reference is taken from, God tells Moses, when Moses
An installation view of Sarah Cain’s “Burning Bush” exhibition at Galerie Lelong
shows God the burning bush, “ Where you are standing is holy ground.” This, too, seems apt. Cain’s work
is a tribute to being a girl, to being female. Her works are reliquaries of a sort. They pay homage to the
ephemera of girlhood, the pretty plastic bits and shards we leave behind when we leave that world behind.
Cain’s work is risky. She does things with paintings she ought not: shredding canvas into pretty frosting
like ribbons, hanging crystals and jewels, Mylar balloons and confetti onto the canvas, using tiny colored
beads to decorate the work. To decorate is risky. And yet there is a secret power in Cain’s work. She’s the
lead girl of the girl gang. She’s the one who wears the frilliest slips and dresses, braids the other girl’s hair,
tying ribbons into it. And when the tremors of exploit and violence arrive, Cain would be the one to step
forward. Her paintings say just this. She is not afraid to be “girly,” to, in fact, reclaim the ruins of girlhood:
the ephemera of girlhood: hula hoops, jewels, tiny beads, confetti, Mylar balloons, ribbons, and cake. She
returns these objects to us in her work, restoring the magic back where it belongs.
Sarah Cain, “Kiss” (2013), acrylic, beads, and string on canvas, 126 x 72 inches (320 x 182.9 cm)
In interviews, Cain has expressed her admiration for the California poet Jack Spicer and, in particular, his
idea of the artist being an instrument for a higher power. “The poet is a radio,” he says. This sense of the
spiritual or the occult threads throughout much of Cain’s work. “Glory” is a large matte salmon-pink
painting with a series of eye-like slits, each slit lined in tiny colored beads. The eyes, of course, look like
the occult symbols for The Eye of Providence, the symbol for the all-seeing eye of God. In the center of the
canvas is a child’s hula-hoop, which serves as a kind of separate window. Within the hula hoop is a mess of
paint splatters, splashes, streaks, and strips in pale pink, crimson, baby blue, and blood red. The painting
can be seen as a kind of window into the psyche. Within the window is chaos, a yet-untouched feralness.
The toy holds the window in place. It protects the gentleness, the vulnerability. But also, the “window”
looks like a mandala. The chaos is the universe, is the world. Surrounded by a canvas of seeing eyes. The
hula hoop is protected, the feralness of girlhood is protected.
“Kiss” (2013) is a large rectangular shaped painting broken into three parts. The top section is a painting of
multi-colored spheres, each sphere bordered with thin thread, floating over a pink canvas with, and a giant
red X. The middle section is a black strip of multi-colored eye slits. The bottom portion is a series of ripped
canvas hanging over the white canvas. Both canvas and ripped strips are airbrushed green, blue, orange,
and red. The painting has the appearance of a multi-layered cake with the three disparate “layers” of
painting. In poetry, when a poet uses layers of language, this is a signal to the reader to read the poem with
multiple meanings. I’d say the same thing here for Cain’s work. The layering serves as instruction to the
Sarah Cain, “Hole Punched” (2014), acrylic, paint roller heads, and beads on canvas; acrylic on wall, 72 x
74 inches (182.9 x 188 cm)
viewer to read the work with many layers of meaning.
Along with other female abstract painters such as Charline Von Heyl, and Jacqueline Humphries, Cain is
working with and against abstract painting. Cain paints beautiful, playful abstract paintings and yet
subverts them by adding strips of ripped canvas, beads, jewels, and string tied into pretty bows. Abstract
painting has been a man’s sport. The Abstract Expressionists were a macho bunch. For a female painter to
continue in this lineage is an act of protest. To do so and decorate the work with frill and ribbon is
subversion. Cain does this and more. In her piece, “New Logic” (2014), a large rectangular canvas, she
takes ripped canvas, painted soft lavender, and staples the strips to the sides of the paintings, framing the
work in a soft canvas ruffle.
In “Hole Punched” (2014), another large piece, Cain has literally “punched’ holes into the canvas. The
piece is another painting within a painting: one painting is a large square of stripes moving vertically and
horizontally. Outside this painting is a white canvas air brushed royal blue. The idea of boundaries and
windows, frames, and paintings with paintings is a recurring theme and begs the question: what is a
painting? Peering into the holes in the canvas, one sees the bones of it. Painting has been “undone.”
The paintings in this exhilarating show go against what contemporary paintings are “supposed” to be.
These are strong paintings that incorporate weakness and vulnerability. Risk is something we don’t see
often enough in contemporary art. The paintings in this show are risky. They are wild and, simultaneously,
light, and playful. While I was at the gallery, an older man was laughing while looking at the work. He
turned to me, several times, and said, “These are great,” pointing to the painted feathers and beads on
Cain’s works. That Cain’s work can be subversive, frilly and fun is no small feat. She stands, with her
incredible work, inside the fire. But neither she nor her work are burned.
Sarah Cain’s Burning Bush continues at Galerie Lelong (528 West 26th Street, Chelsea, Manhattan) until
March 15.