REAL WOMEN: Exhibit focuses on beauty and body image

Richmond artist Susan Singer revels in painting the truth — and she doesn't care what Madison Avenue thinks.

"The form that we see on models and in the media is, for most people, not achievable: Most of us cannot be 6 feet tall and 110 pounds," the 51-year-old says as she sits in her Richmond studio, surrounded by canvases of scarred, tattooed and comfortably curvaceous female nudes. These images — which will be on view in the upcoming exhibit "Not Barbie: A Celebration of Real Women," at Crossroads Art Center Sept. 16 through Nov. 7 — are Singer's retort to modern culture's veneration of stick-thin, porcelain-complexioned waifs. In her view, it's a joyous retort.

"I'm trying, in my work, to give women and men a picture of what real women look like so that they can see the beauty of these women" and the women's "glorious personalities," Singer says.

To reinforce her point, she indicates a painting in which a lithe black woman serenely and confidently straddles a chair, and another, in which a Rubenesque blonde vamps exuberantly in a broad-brimmed purple hat.

Daring honesty about the human form is a signature tactic for Singer, a central Virginia native who studied German as an undergraduate at the College of William and Mary, and later enrolled in the Masters of Interdisciplinary Studies program at Virginia Commonwealth University.

A longtime professional high school tutor, she first felt artistic yearnings when she was introduced to polymer clay at a friend's house in the late 1990s: Singer soon was turning the sculptable material into jewelry, candleholders and other objets d'art.

But the clay molding began to hurt her hands, and in 1999, she experimented with drawings based on photographs that had been taken of her while she was pregnant. She is married to Chris Payton, a writer, and has three children, ages 19, 22 and 24, from a previous marriage.

"Once I drew them, I was so excited," she says. "It felt so good to draw my pregnant form and think again about my children and giving birth."

She was so inspired that she started to make drawings based on photos of pregnant friends. When a sketch nabbed a prize at the Shockoe Bottom Arts Center, her life seemed to gain a new direction.

"I thought, 'Oh, this is a sign! This means I'm supposed to do art!' "

Her next major endeavors included a scar series, inspired by the sight of the stitched-up back of her younger son, who was recuperating from an operation, and "Twelve Naked Men," neck-to-thigh depictions of men.

Singer remembers the strong reactions to "Twelve Naked Men," which appeared at Richmond's Visual Art Studio: Viewers were disturbed, fascinated and moved.

"That series made me realize that there's so much pain and story and longing and desire and hurt and craving in our bodies," she says.

After hiring an architect to build a studio in her backyard, Singer felt able to tackle a series of female nudes.

Initially, she intended to portray the bodies but not the faces of her subjects, as she had with the models for "Twelve Naked Men." But she found that the women tended to adopt poses and expressions so temperament-rich that they cried out for fuller renderings.

Before embarking on each canvas, Singer asks her female models "what they want to get out of the session: how they want to feel, what part of themselves they want to evoke." To help the women feel less awkward, she sometimes has music playing in the studio. When a model is comfortable, Singer takes photos, which are the basis for the paintings.

Karen Morris, a massage therapist who modeled for one of the works in "Not Barbie," says the experience was "mind-blowing."

"It was scary — putting myself out there, making myself vulnerable," Morris says, but "I can't even explain how liberating the experience was."

As a one-time victim of an eating disorder who knows how destructive unrealistic body ideals can be, Morris feels that "Not Barbie" has considerable social significance.

"If you were to talk to 10 people, nine of them are going to think they're not pretty enough to pose" for a picture. "Whereas, actually, 10 out of 10 are pretty enough."

Morris' perspective is reflected in the programs that Singer has organized to broaden and deepen the impact of the exhibit. On Thursdays from Sept. 22 through Nov. 3, Crossroads will host performances and lectures that resonate with Singer's paintings and with the life stories of her models.

Among other offerings, Kathleen MacDonald, an expert on eating disorders, will speak; and singer Gaye Adegbalola, the model for one "Not Barbie" painting, will headline an evening of blues music.

Crossroads owner Jenni Kirby says this is the first time the center has hosted such extensive programming surrounding an exhibit. But she's a longtime fan of Singer's work.

"She's just amazing when it comes to capturing a person's essence," Kirby says, and because Singer supports raising awareness about the thorny issue of body image.

"It's something that needs to be addressed, and this is going to be a good way for the arts to address it," Kirby says.

Singer aspires to give "Not Barbie" a life beyond the Crossroads run, perhaps by touring colleges.

"It's so painful to me to hear women talk about how much they hate their bodies and how they want to look different," she says.

She hopes her paintings will encourage women to see "that their own bodies are beautiful."