This self-portrait of mine is often met with confusion and the occasional question: 'What's with the beard?'

I graduated in Fine Art in 2023 from Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art and Design, and my most recent work – including the painting above – aims to address the historical and contemporary gender imbalance in the art world.

My paintings encourage the viewer to question how different genders are viewed, represented and portrayed in art, and why society values their works differently.

In this story, I aim to explain 'what's with the beard', by looking at some of the artists on Art UK who have largely been excluded from the art history books.

Self Portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria

Despite being recognised as a serious artist during her lifetime, the Italian seventeenth-century painter Artemisia Gentileschi's fame has varied over time, and, until fairly recently, she was relatively unknown to a contemporary mainstream audience.

However, thanks to the work of feminist art historians – and the acquisition of her work by a number of public collections internationally, including the National Gallery in London – it is now receiving some of the attention it deserves.

The daughter of an artist, Orazio Gentileschi, Gentileschi was taught to paint by her father. Most women at the time had no access to artistic training, and Gentileschi was the first woman to become a member of the Academy of the Arts of Drawing in Florence.

Her paintings challenged conventional depictions of women as passive, submissive subjects. Instead, she portrayed them as active, particularly in paintings of Biblical stories such as Susannah and the Elders. In this painting, Gentileschi depicts Susannah's distress in response to the prying eyes of the older men watching her bathe.

Another artist who placed the focus on women in her work was the nineteenth-century French painter and Impressionist Berthe Morisot.

Morisot often painted women in intimate domestic scenes, situated on the edge of thresholds, bound to their gendered roles within the home or caring for children.

At first glance, her paintings appear gentle, calm and serene, but they can also become unsettling when we consider the context – and the societal restrictions that were placed on women at the time.

In Cecile Walton's work Romance, we are presented with a fascinating depiction of motherhood – the artist gives us a glimpse into the moments immediately following the birth of her own child.

Romance – Cecile Walton (1891–1956), with her Children Edward and Gavril

The image is unsettling for a number of reasons – particularly as it echoes a well-known Impressionist image of a sex worker – Olympia by Édouard Manet.

For me, Walton's Romance also echoes Morisot's introspective paintings, as viewers question the thoughts and feelings of the woman depicted.

Representation of women artists, particularly in public collections, is important for many reasons – one of which is that it has a ripple effect. It indicates who is valued as an artist, and ultimately influences society's perceptions of who can make great art.

Louise Jopling, whose work was celebrated by her contemporaries, has since been buried in the patriarchal canon of art history. Jopling lived during a time of great change for women, was a vocal champion of women's rights, advocated for women's education, and even founded her own art school for women.

Jopling's work has largely been overlooked in the years since. Earlier this year, however, Tate acquired her painting Through The Looking-Glass. The painting currently features in 'Now You See Us: Women Artists in Britain 1520–1920', an exhibition at Tate Britain that aims to highlight underrepresented and historically excluded women artists.

The exhibition highlights more than 100 women who forged public careers as artists across a period of 400 years – exploring their fight to be accepted as professional artists on equal terms with men.

By highlighting the historical exclusion of women, this exhibition shines a welcome spotlight on the issue. However, when we look at the statistics, the representation of women and non-binary artists in public art collections continues to fall short.

Dr Charlotte Bonham-Carter, writing in Representation of Women Artists in the UK During 2021, a report commissioned by the Freelands Foundation, indicates that two-thirds of UK undergraduates studying art and design are women.

However, by way of example, the same report indicates that the percentage of artworks by women acquired by Tate in 2021 was just 36 per cent. At the National Gallery in London, in a collection of more than 2,300 paintings, only 21 are by women.

Some institutions have altered their acquisitions policy to ensure they are collecting a higher proportion of work by women artists.

National Galleries Scotland has made a commitment to addressing the gender imbalance through their collecting policy. Out of the 214 artworks that entered the organisation's modern and contemporary collection between 2016 and 2021, 55 per cent were made by women.

Even with such policies, it will take time for the balance to change. Longer, still, for this to be reflected in the economic value attached to artists of different genders in the commercial art market.

According to the Freelands report, in 2021, 67 per cent of the artists represented by commercial galleries in London were men. It also reports that, in the same year, Christie's held two twentieth- and twenty-first-century evening sales auctions in London – and of the 73 artists featured across both of them, only 18 per cent were women. Most of those women were white.

Although low, this marks an increase from the previous year, when, the report says, just 11 per cent of the artists represented were women. Progress is slow, yet the tide is changing.

Significant women artists throughout art history who were ignored or given fewer opportunities because of their gender have often subverted expectations and challenged the power dynamic through their subtle depictions of women.

As a woman artist working today, I choose to make my point blatantly obvious: instead, using humour to engage the viewer.

Do women have to paint themselves wearing false beards or with painted moustaches to be taken seriously? What will it take for artists of different genders to command equal value and be represented equally?

Kirstin Mackinnon, visual artist

This content was supported by Creative Scotland