Earlier this year, Time Magazine chose to name Judy Chicago as one of its 100 most influential people in the world. Paradoxically, recent events have opened many people’s eyes to issues that they thought were safely historical, and Chicago has emerged as the once and future prophet of male privilege. As she told me, the reaction on Instagram “demonstrates the important role art has to play, as it literally helps us see what has not been evident to many people.”

In the U.S. alone, women make up nearly half of the student body in architecture schools, and yet women make up a paltry 18 percent of licensed architects. This pattern continues up through leadership: worldwide, only three of the top 100 firms are headed by women. Critics have opined that the enduring myth of the machismo starchitect—which problematically heralds a singular, heroic talent at the helm of an inherently collaborative discipline—is much to blame for the systemic social and sexual prejudices that continue to plague architecture today.

Though it was far less common for daughters to learn their fathers’ trade, it did happen. Indeed, women have trained in their fathers’ studios from the early Renaissance to the present. Some of these early female artists have been relegated to obscurity, their contributions to masterpieces lost in the oeuvre of a father who ultimately put his signature on the work. In a few more contemporary examples, though, daughters have outshined their fathers’ careers. In celebration of Father's Day, Artsy shares the stories of eight fathers and daughters whose artwork fueled a creative bond between them.

Earlier, in the 19th century, when photography was considered outside the remit of fine art, women found fertile ground for making their mark in the new medium. “Unlike the gun, the racquet and the oar, the camera offers a field where women can compete with men upon equal terms,” wrote Clarence Moore, rather patronizingly, in an 1893 Cosmopolitan article. Photography didn’t require academic training; in theory, it could be picked up from popular manuals. Overlooked as painters for centuries, women found an art form they could shape—and the result was several bodies of work that feel light-years ahead of photography produced by many men of the same era.

Medusa’s beauty—and, in particular, her femininity—remains as dangerous as her original monstrosity. As curator Kiki Karoglou points out, the majority of hybrids (half-human, half-animal monsters like sirens or Gorgons) in ancient Greece were female. “In a male-centered society, the feminization of monsters served to demonize women,” she said.

While Caesar and Antony are remembered for their military prowess, Cleopatra never got her due for her own accomplishments. “Not only did she command an army and navy, negotiate with foreign powers and preside over temples, she also dispensed justice and regulated an economy,” writes her biographer Stacy Schiff. Cleopatra also suffered from bad publicity: Octavian began a centuries-long promotion of the defeated queen as a “wanton temptress.” From Michelangelo to Bertolt Brecht to Hollywood directors, artists disregarded her political acumen and brilliance (she was fluent in nine languages). As Schiff explains, “It is less threatening to believe her fatally attractive than fatally intelligent.”

By the early 1970s, as the Women’s Liberation movement took hold across America, a group of female cartoonists in San Francisco decided they’d had enough. Facing sexism and a dearth of professional opportunities in their testosterone-saturated field, these women decided to create their own opportunities. They launched the first all-women underground comic books: raw, honest, raunchy, and very funny stories about, and by, women.

For her, it isn’t enough to simply call attention to these individuals; she also wants to tell the story of their erasure, to represent the fact that they have been “held hostage by male patriarchal histories.” “I want to look at why things are forgotten,” she explains. “I’m interested in how can we materialize this broken condition in which we exist.”

History is full of famous artist couples who inspired one another and fed each others’ creativity, whose passionate affairs helped push them to their artistic limits. But as important as they were to one another, their importance as gauged by the art market is often deeply asymmetrical, with male artists frequently outperforming their female partners at auction, often by orders of magnitude.

Dealers rarely, if ever, cite gender (or ethnicity, or nationality, or any other marker of identity) as a factor in deciding to represent an artist. That notion is almost universally rejected; it’s always and inevitably about “the strength of the work.” But the findings of this analysis lend some credence to the aphorism, sometimes attributed to female leadership expert Laura Liswood, that “There’s no such thing as a glass ceiling, just a thick layer of men.”

Where are all the great female werewolves? Other than the occasional few over the years, there is a marked dearth of them represented in literature and film.