Ella Walker Boldly Redefines Female Archetypes

One of the first things budding vocalists learn is to sing from the stomach. Often, the technique, which involves breathing from the diaphragm instead of the lungs, can feel counterintuitive. The initial attempts can leave you quite lightheaded.

A similar feeling arises when encountering ‘The Romance of the Rose’, Ella Walker’s first exhibition with Pilar Corrias, which takes its title from a 13th-century French poem of the same name. The nine paintings on display – in acrylic dispersion, pigment, chalk and pencil on linen – are replete with historical, modern and contemporary references, destabilizing the boundaries and hierarchies of medium, time and place. Much of the artist’s inspiration comes from Italy, including medieval manuscripts, early renaissance frescos, commedia dell’arte, film, theatre and opera. However, Walker’s women seem to inhabit a world entirely their own, freeing them from their often-prescriptive roles in historical narratives.

In The Bridled Sweeties (all works 2024), a figure with a swollen belly – inspired by Piero della Francesca’s Madonna del Parto (1460) and Federico Fellini’s Satyricon (1969) – takes centre stage, looking out at us with a shrewd smile. It would appear she is in control of this perplexing scene. Other figures are pushed and pulled in multiple directions: a naked woman violently falls forward, limp like a marionette, as she crawls out of a skeletal hoop skirt. Meanwhile, another defiant character swings from a rope, wrenching themselves upwards in reckless abandon.

The works hang at a low height, bringing the viewer closer to the worlds of the paintings and making the life-size figures all the more prominent and intense, the shallow depth of field rendering them actors before you on a stage. Discomfort is central to the viewing experience here, and the line between pleasure and pain is obscured. Wide-eyed Maria Callas doubles sing out, although it is uncertain whether in ecstasy or fear. 

Bodies here appear pushed to their limits. In The Lover, Asleep, dislocated limbs and torsos are strewn about like props on a set, imbued with a life of their own. The sorrowful face of a figure resembling a weeping Madonna is at odds with the chunky zip emblazoned across her crotch. She is made all the stranger with the realization that her upper and lower body parts do not meet. In several works, hands are exaggerated and oversized. I am reminded of a musical conductor, wielding power over the ensemble with every sweeping gesture. Rib cages feature again and again; in The Pleasures Dance, the protagonist’s full-length coat hangs open not to expose her flesh, but her bare ribs, through which a blood-red backdrop is revealed.

Whilst figures and symbols are detached from their original reference points, creating a sense of the unknown, compositional choices are laid bare and even magnified. Drawing is the foundation for these works. A tight sense of line and looser washes of colour reveal the artist’s process; in places, we can see where adjustments to poses have been made, thrusting into view that which is typically hidden. Cryptic red dots can be found on the characters’ faces, revealing Walker’s method for achieving visual balance and symmetry.

Whilst ‘The Romance of the Rose’ is drenched in patriarchal and sinister references drawn from literature, art history and culture, a sense of humour and fun also permeates these multifaceted works. Exemplified by her use of the harlequin figure in Proscenium Arch, Walker masterfully code-switches to offer up spaces in which the women – and, indeed, the viewer – are not forced to choose between virtue and vice, chaos and control, pleasure and pain. Just remember to breathe through the discomfort; it’s well worth it.

Ella Walker’s ‘The Romance of the Rose’ is at Pilar Corrias, Savile Row, London, until 9 November 

^{Main image: Ella Walker, The Pleasures Dance (detail), 2024, acrylic dispersion, pigment, chalk and pencil on canvas, 2.2 × 1.9 m. Courtesy: the artist and Pilar Corrias, London}