Allegories from The Irritating Gentleman

an analysis of Berthold Woltze's painting in the current political landscape

Off the start, there’s something so unsettling about this painting.

Our main character is a young woman, dressed in all black. Black, a colour representing death, is often worn in funerals so our character is either heading towards one or returning from one. We can further confirm that she’s in mourning from the crumpled handkerchief that lay fallen on her lap. Even without these indicators, we’d know it just by looking at her. If grief and sorrow had a face, it’d look like her. The artist masterfully strokes a teardrop of pearl white, delicately falling from the edge of her eyes. 

Behind her is a man much older than her, encroaching her space. And I say this with such certainty because, look at their shadows here. If he was at a respectable distance, trying to make friendly conversation with a fellow passenger on a train, he wouldn’t be so close that their shadows intermingle. Even then, couldn’t he notice that she’s in mourning? Every woman knows the expression on his face and nothing ever good ever comes out from a coercive smile like that. He has a cigar in hand and we can see strokes of its white fumes. We can almost imagine its pungent smell enveloping her, a representation of how he doesn’t even allow her to breathe freely.

Our third character is a man that sits with a frown on his face somewhere behind. His frown shows that he disapproves but not enough for him to step in and stop this scene. The artist cuts him off the frame, representing his absence in doing the right thing in such a situation.

What haunted me the most about this painting was the woman’s unflinching gaze. We’re judging the frowning man for not doing anything about the situation but she seems to judge us right back. Aren’t we all watching this unfortunate sexual banter or coercion happening but unable to do anything? She seems to look at us with pleading eyes that slowly froth into disgust and disdain. 

To me, each of these characters are allegories of what we witness as a society. The young woman obviously represents all of womanhood. The old man represents the gendered violence that is perpetrated against women every single day. The man with the frown represents the rest of society. Bystanders and people who choose to watch violence happen right in front of their eyes, condemn it in theory but do nothing to stop it even if they have the power to. 

I’d like to introduce a fourth character existing outside the frame of the painting—the painter himself. He is an allegory for who we all should strive to be. He creates change by representing this ugly situation in a painting, showing the woman’s discomfort and thereby creating a space for conversation and change in attitudes.

I’m using this painting to talk about something more intense and horrific than we can fathom. Whenever we have conversations about gendered violence against women, it opens up a chasm of a man vs woman argument. This distracts us from the actual enemy which is the system. I have faith in the goodness of men because I've seen it in the men I’ve grown up with. I know not all men but somehow every single woman I know personally has gone through some degree of sexual violence ranging from cat calling, stalking, sexual coercion, inappropriate touching to something as horrific as rape.

To paraphrase and add to what Hozier once said, just remember to be wary of the mentality that makes cattle and vessels and sexual objects of women. Because that same mentality will make machines and tools of men. It is that same mentality that tells men you cannot cry because you are not man enough if you do so. It is that same mentality that births monsters of the sort that we’ve been reading about in the news in the past few weeks and yet protects them under the law. I know my words are insignificant in the grand scheme of things and I don’t know if they can change anything. But what I do know is that we can direct narratives in our online circles, in our friend groups, step in when we have to, educate ourselves, sit with and confront our biases. Use our voices, however small, however insignificant, to fuel actions in the right direction.

I remember crying to my parents when I was nine, after I’d just heard about rape from the news reports. It’s been eleven years since and my younger cousin asks the same question to her parents. I worry it will be another eleven years from today and we’ll be in the same position of trying to tell our little daughters that their bodies are just meat in the eyes of the men around them.