Archaic ideas around body hair remain hard to break. The feminine beauty standard of “the hairless ideal” has been molded and reiterated by male artists since ancient times. Female body hair was considered barbaric, uncivilized, or low-class in Greek culture. Recipes to remove hair—from plucking to shaving to sugar waxing—have existed all over the world for thousands of years.

Last year, Women Photograph reported that in half of the major newspapers it analyzed, women only made up single-digit percentages of lead photo bylines. And while many publications are assigning more stories to photographers of different backgrounds, wire agencies—who supply breaking-news images to all major outlets—seem far behind.

The singular importance of the self-portrait genre for women as a “way to present a story about herself for public consumption,” a rare break from the typical objectification of the female form as depicted by the male artist.

An estimated 80 percent of early films were made in color—tinted, toned, and painted with bright dyes that produced an uncanny, surreal effect. The meticulous, exhausting work of hand-coloring film was one of the first careers in film production available to artistic women, and they came to dominate the field at the turn of the 20th century. Unfortunately, only sparse written records remain of their experiences, though their efforts can be seen and appreciated due to the restoration and digitizing work done by archivists.

The significance of Nefertiti’s gender and questions surrounding her racial identity have forged schisms in her modern cultural appeal. Over the past few decades, German, Egyptian, and American artists, in particular, have pushed matters of race and gender to the forefront of the discourse surrounding Nefertiti, calling on us to consider what it means to co-opt, distort, and reimagine the image of an African queen to whom many feel entitled.

Despite his desire to display more art by women artists, London dealer Richard Saltoun, was was initially hesitant to flag that labeling a series of shows “100% Women” for fear that it woudl unduly label the artists as “female,” making “male” the default.

The attraction to female artists was perhaps driven by Kulczyk’s acute awareness of how she was perceived as a woman in the largely male corporate world, especially throughout the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s, when she worked with her then-husband. “Regardless of the role I actually played in the different businesses, the person who was incessantly perceived as the boss was my husband, and I was usually in the back row as a good support, but still in the back row,” Kulczyk said. Or, she would be the “only woman in a boys’ club,” she recalled, citing a bicycle business she ran in Asia, where she exclusively faced men in her dealings.

“I’m not a sociologist or anthropologist, but until recently, the collector base was all men of the same age as that of the women artist…and they never saw a powerful woman. If their mother had a job at all they were nurses, or teachers, or librarians, or housewives,” Minter said. “They can’t wrap their head around someone being an innovator and being female.”

Archives of Women Artists, Research and Exhibitions (AWARE) profiles each artist with narrative biographies accompanied by scores of stunning images. The French nonprofit responsible for this matriarchal treasure trove was founded with the goal of rewriting art history from a more gender-equal perspective, focusing on self-identified women artists born between 1860 and 1972.

The impressionists' focus on quotidian subject matter helped open the door for female artists. Women had traditionally been prevented from attempting history painting, since the requisite knowledge of human anatomy was considered too ambitious for a woman. Instead, they were pushed toward painting less formal works illustrating daily life, a theme that became synonymous with the Impressionists.

Female rage has often been the catalyst for political and social change. And yet, we know that when women express their anger, they risk being seen as hysterical, overly emotional, and unserious, even if the reasons for their fury are entirely legitimate. It’s not surprising, then, that angry women, when they do appear in Western art history, often take the form of goddesses or monsters: harpies and witches, Medusa and the Sphinx.