Last month, I went to Edinburgh’s Modern Art Gallery to see the third NOW exhibition featuring works by Jenny Saville. Situated in the the gallery’s Modern One, critics have described Saville’s female nudes as ‘grotesque’, ‘mutilated’ and ‘fat’. Others would call them un-idealised images of the female body, images of women that society isn’t used to seeing. The huge scale that Saville works on allows the artist to explore the female form, anxieties with body image and sexuality in an unapologetic and honest way.

Entering Saville’s exhibition space, we are faced with Trace (1993-94), a painting of a woman’s back, the imprint of her underwear cut into her skin. Bra too tight, pants too small, trying to fit into a size that she is not. In her nakedness she is freed from her uncomfortable clothes yet her body language doesn’t indicate a sense of freedom. Her shoulders are slouched, her arms hang limp by her side. Although Saville is celebrating female flesh her nudes do not look celebratory. The expressions on the faces of many of Saville’s subjects are ambiguous. We don’t even see a face in Trace, implying this body, and the anxieties surrounding this body are universal and belong to many women.

Around the corner from Trace is Propped (1992), a self-portrait. In a clever use of foreshortening, Saville distorts her own body, her knees and thighs exaggerated in size. Words from French feminist and philosopher, Luce Irigaray, are written backwards across the surface of the canvas. We turn to face the mirror positioned opposite to read them and are confronted with our own image. The mirror forces you to assess your own body with Saville’s nude looming behind you. You automatically compare bodies, judging hers, judging yours.  The exaggerated features in Propped lead us to think about the dangers of extreme self-judgement and how it can affect mental health. Body Dysmorphic Disorder is a mental health condition where sufferers obsess over imaginary flaws in their appearance. Most people who suffer from this fixate on aspects of their body image, criticising certain parts of their body that others would not even notice.

What we see in the mirror isn’t always what others see.

We move through the exhibition to see Saville’s more recent works not only in paint, but in charcoal and pastel. Olympia (2012-14) is a complex scene of tangled limbs against a cityscape. We stand in front of this image the longest, tilted heads trying to figure out how many bodies there are, whose legs belong to who. In her other works of a similar sexual nature, the woman’s face is always visible. The many lines of charcoal overlapping paint convey a sense of time and movement.  The layers of texture are, I think, just as important as the image in conveying a sense of real people. Yes, these textured bodies can make the viewer feel uncomfortable. Before we turn away, Saville holds up the mirror and we are again forced to look at ourselves before we judge others.

The Luce Irigaray quote inscribed onto Propped reads, ‘If we continue to speak in this sameness- speak as men have spoken for centuries, we will fail each other again. Again words will pass though our bodies, above our heads…make us disappear’. After success in Ireland, the call for the abortion referendum continues in Northern Ireland. Since the Harvey Weinstein scandal, more women are speaking out against sexual harassment and rape. At a time where women are rightly demanding control of their own bodies, Irigaray’s words seem more important than ever and just as women’s voices refuse to be silenced, Saville’s art refuses to disappear from the mind’s eye.