8 minute read
OFM ART
Naughty Femme by Nature
Barbara Danczik
by Veronica L. Holyfield
Taking on a life of its own, social media has completely changed life as we know it. Platforms like Instagram have been used for both positive change and foul play. From influencers to celebrities, from oddities to fascinations, and from opaque to grotesque, everyone and anyone can have a voice in the eternal black hole that is the noisy internet. For Denver-based, queer artist Barbara Danczik (@barrrab666), screaming into the ether of social media has evolved from a place of journaling the tribulations of her life into a lucrative den of sultry and seductive imagination.
Studying art in college, Danczik got her degree in fashion design, though her art employs a vast variety of mediums that include digital illustration, watercolor, and even tapestry weaving. Starting these activities as a young girl, she recalls being absorbed in the sketches, sitting patiently and drawing quietly, all the while dreaming one day she would be an artist.
“I think I had a really vivid imagination, and my parents had me super young, so I didn’t really have a lot of kids to play with, so I think they placated me with art,” she explains. With an astute awareness, she is the first to admit that she is eager for the limelight, one who craves to be seen. Yet, what may have started as a way to keep the attention-hungry youngster occupied began to flourish into an aptitude for craft.
Danczik moved a lot as a kid, constantly being introduced to new schools and ambiguous, social cliques.
One thing remained consistent, though, and that was art being an ice-breaking pipeline between her as the new kid and the frivolous, closed-off preteens.
“I moved right in the beginning of middle school, and being a new kid in sixth grade is kind of hard, but a way I made friends was, I would draw the girls. Like, ‘Oh, what do you want to be when you grow up?’ They’re like, ‘I want to be a doctor,’ so I would draw them as, like, a cute, grown-up version of them as a doctor. It was a fun way to make friends, and every now and then, they would trade me for, like, gel pens or something stupid,” she laughs as she recalls.
She felt that her drawings were something that immediately made her stand out, and she enjoyed being acknowledged and praised for doing something she enjoyed. “I usually draw female forms, even when I was a kid. Which, when I ended up being gay, [it] kind of all made sense,” she explains. “When I was little, just a bunch of princesses, and I found out that I’m really terrible at drawing princes. It’s just like, the male body and the proportions never looked right to me, and with women, it was just always a lot easier.” For Danczik, it took until she was 20 and fell in love with a woman for her to realize her queerness because she didn’t see queer women who reflected her image back to her.
“I lived in a lot of small towns growing up, so it wasn’t really something that was talked about, and when people did talk about lesbians, or queer women, they never looked like me,” Danczik explains. “So, it’s that whole femme invisibility thing; no one ever said that lesbians could have long hair, and have long nails, and dress a certain way. It was always portrayed like the very stereotypical, butch, masculine kind of vibe.” Although she leans hard into the femme vibe now, there was a time when Danczik felt that she didn’t match the readable, queer aesthetic, and she admits to chopping off all her hair and shaving half of her head when she first came out as a way of expressing queerness. “I went all-in, and I fucking looked ridiculous, and I hated it. Also, no girls hit on me, so that was a complete and utter failure,” she remembers. “When I was 20, I was living in Seattle; we had a really vibrant, queer scene, but it was a very much ‘masc-center-of-folk-forward’ kind of thing, so there wasn’t a lot of femmes. The general vibe was me always having to prove to everyone that I’m gay, including in the queer community.” Getting dirty looks upon entering queer bars, she often would be overlooked or downright ignored by the bartenders.
“I’d constantly be questioned about my sexuality, especially in places that I thought were supposed to be welcoming and safe for me. Women would be really misogynistic towards me, presumptuous, and hella disrespectful when they did find out that I was queer,” she describes. “If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me if I’m actually gay, or if I just haven’t been fucked right, I wouldn’t have to work ever again.”
When the topic of “passing privilege” comes up, as in femmes’ ability to navigate hetero-normativity relatively easily and ability to pick or choose when to be “out,” the dissatisfaction about that notion is palpable in Danczik.
“I feel angry that any women, regardless of being feminine or more masculine-presenting, has to defend anything about her life. Yes, I feel sad that women who are more masculine don’t have the privilege of ‘passing,’ but at the same time, the trade-off is, they don’t have to ever try extra hard to be heard in queer spaces. So, I think it’s unfortunate for all of us,” she quips. Feeling like she has to defend her sexuality in both straight and queer spaces, she has decided to flip the script and embrace a defiant resolve, regardless of the environment.
“
“It builds you up in a certain way to where you’re very unapologetic. I used to always have short nails because, you know, lesbians aren’t supposed to have long nails. Now, it’s like, ‘Cool, you can still choke on my dick with my long nails.’ I don’t see why that’s an issue for anybody right now. Like, excuse you,” she challenges. “So, I think it really builds up a fierceness, and it does push you to stand behind who you are.”
Art is a way for Danczik to escape the questioning, the criticism, and the negativity. Stemming from a place of wanting to feel good and make others feel good, a lot of her work features people she knows, or even candid snapshots of herself, allowing beauty, slight surrealism, and sex appeal to be her muse.
“I use my selfies for a lot of my art; a lot of times, they don’t even end up looking like me, but I think it portrays what makes me feel good. Whether it’s sexy, or hot, or just powerful, I like to draw women who seem very confident,” she explains. Danczik continues, “I draw girls taking a selfie of themselves because they feel confident and good. I really like that feeling, you know, like when you take 80 fucking selfies, and one of them is good, and you’re like ‘Sweet! Yes, I feel good about myself; this is the one; this is the one I’m going to send to my lover.’ So, capturing that feeling.”
Also featuring women of different body sizes and races is essential to Danczik. While she may use her own characteristics and frame as a starting point, the art she creates is more diverse and broad than just who she sees in the mirror.
“Incorporating diversity into my art is important because every piece I create is ultimately about the subject feeling sexy and confident in their skin,” she explains. “I find all body types and skin tones beautiful and think women deserve to see themselves portrayed in art that doesn’t only cater to the male gaze, but showcases their own beauty, strength, and confidence, on their terms.” She talks of how art traditionally was men drawing or painting slender women, and then receiving the praise for it, where women didn’t have autonomy and control over their own bodies to feel good, let alone have a place in the art world.
Thanks to platforms like Instagram, more people have the opportunity to present the kind of narrative they wish they had seen growing up. Varying forms of queer identities, different aesthetics that are all just as valid as the other, and even some titilating content that opens up the door for curiousity and exploration. While perusing Danczik’s feed, you’ll primarily see her sexy selfies, showing her in lingerie, and often leaning into kink and fetish territory. The space of escape in beauty has allowed Danczik to find her niche among a lingerie community that continues to offer her further inspiration, and hopefully a few more followers on her OnlyFans page. “You just want to see yourself represented in art sometimes; I think it’s really important to show what we didn’t have growing up.I like seeing different body types, different sizes, different races represented, as well as trans women’s bodies,” she emphasizes. “No trans women have sent me any photos to be drawn, so shout out! Please, I would love that.”
Danczik’s story is like so many in the LGBTQ community: creating a space for others that was not offered to us when we were coming up and coming out. Creating inclusive art that feels representative and authentic to the femme, woman experience, all while embracing the confidence, sexiness, and slight naughtiness inside us all, is how she serves her community and challenges the world to be better.
