Marita Liivak
Maria Liivak (1994) is a painter based in Tallinn. Liivak’s practice combines technical skill with intuitive exploration of color and seizing emotion. Her work delves into themes of identity, femininity, and mental health, while also investigating the intersections between personal and public spaces.
Marita Liivak
Acrylic and oil paint on canvas
150 x 130 cm
2023
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
170x150cm
Me and My Body
My relationship with my body is rather hectic – there are times when I feel strong, beautiful, in proportion, but other times, I feel bulky, heavy, clumsy and just a big pile of defects. Nevertheless, I grasp that there is no objective reality, it’s all about my feelings, self-reflection, and everything else is insignificant. I am totally confident that whether I’m a bit plumper or slimmer doesn't concern anyone. Frankly, I couldn't care less about someone’s weight or physical abilities. When I observe the people around me, the cool folks always radiate beauty, irrespective of their objective parameters.
Over time, I find it increasingly disturbing when people, mostly women, belittle themselves. It is rather annoying to listen to, especially because I’m guilty of the same. This tendency is so deeply encoded in us that it’s considered polite to say, “Oh, not me…” Yet, I feel that in recent years, I've made considerable progress in handling myself and my body. In fact, I'm grateful for being alive, able to walk, run, dance and create. And for my independence.
Furthermore, I believe I should serve as a role model for younger women and girls, showing them that the future isn’t horrible and one can feel good at any age. We must promote a general shift in society. Firstly, we don't have to define ourselves by some social parameters, although unfortunately, most of us do. We need to ask ourselves where these ideals come from and whether they contribute to our happiness.
Secondly, reflecting on my past, I see an unhappy version of myself. At the same time, it is evident that in my youth, many of my qualities were superior. What a paradox.
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
130x150cm
It is a type of grief that hides behind your inner bad feeling, when, in reality, I should be thankful for the moments when nothing is "really" wrong – when I am physically healthy. Today, I mourn all these moments as a young teenager when I avoided mirrors because the sight of my body made me nauseous. I probably related to the women around me and their relationships with their bodies.
I was 13 when I started dieting and weight-watching, influenced by my family member and my classmates. If I am not mistaken, my classmate and I even tried eating cotton wool, as it was supposed to reduce appetite. My classmate was inspired by her older sister to become a model. She also took her first headshots for an agency at that age. I was a girl who had grown taller at an early age but wanted to weigh the same as my smaller classmates. I remember that, in addition to weight-watching, I used to bind my breasts with a bandage when I was one of the first to have them. It was so embarrassing to wear the gray and pink bra my mother had bought me, but it was even more embarrassing to see the contours of my breasts under my favorite T-shirt.
I stopped weighing myself when I was 14, and I have never had a scale in my home. Weighing in the last 13 years has taken place in the doctor's office. I came to this solution through understanding: if I feel healthy and happy in my body, then there is no difference in the numbers on the scale.
Except for some isolated episodes, I never restricted my diet in my 20s. Still, I have experienced the happiness of weight loss for ethical reasons after adopting a vegetarian diet. Unfortunately, I must say that appetite loss due to medication or illness has also brought me a moment of joy as my dimensions decreased.
Today, I can usually remain neutral when my friends or family members praise me for losing weight. I understand that they are mostly thinking of their own bodies. Still, it makes me sad sometimes. I empathize with the younger me and all others who experience eating disorders and body dysmorphic disorder.
Let me add that I have never been obese or overweight, more like tall and zaftig. But in my youth, I aimed for a body mass index of 17. Still, this spring, at the age of 27, I felt a moment of pride looking in the mirror and seeing that my body had grown. I was proud of regular eating times, taking care of myself, and love.
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
100x100cm
Oh…
My body and I, wow…
Unfortunately, for a greater part of my life, I've been disappointed in my body and mostly experienced negative emotions about it. I even tried putting off writing this for as long as I could.
Knowing that I'd have to show my body to someone else, I started thinking about diets and using laxatives because one must punish herself for taking it easy for a couple of months and eating as much as one liked and whatever one liked, adding a nice amount of kilos. But no, probably my body has to be just as it is, and it is always beautiful, even when I unable to notice it.
I remember I was 4 or 5 when I heard the first remark about my body . I was changing clothes when an adult grabbed my thigh, pinched it and said to another adult, “Would you look at this! She is so fat, she's got cellulitis on her thighs, a total orange peel effect!" This horrific moment left a deep mark in my understanding and attitude towards my body. My chubby form and tall height had an additional affect towards my negative relations with my body, because tall people are supposed to be skinny. When I put on extra kilos I just feel like an ugly monster.
My self image got worse when my tummy started growing in high school, and the boys who had been calling me a cow for the previous 5 years now began to call me “the beer belly”. No, I was not pregnant. I have never had a baby. I thought that all the fat is gathering in my tummy because I am constantly starving and your stomach gets swollen when you’re very hungry. I walked around for 8 years with my stomach continuously growing. People kept asking me if I was pregnant and what month it was or wether it’s a boy or a girl. I was even offered seats in a bus.
I mostly ignored all remarks, other times told people I wasn’t pregnant and sometimes said I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. That’s fucked up! I was living in denial, hiding myself until I was completely exhausted. When my family brought up the size of my stomach, I was defensive and infuriated. Someone dared ask me about my biggest insecurity. “They must want to hurt me!” I thought…(No, girl, your family is just worried about you and they want to help! Wake the fuck up!)
In the fall of 2018, my stomach started aching. It had been aching before but I’d learned to ignore it over the years. I kept gaslighting myself in one way or another and at one point really really thought I might be pregnant and imagined feeling the baby moving. (Even though the pregnancy tests were negative) I just didn’t understand what was going on in my body.
At first I thought the stomach ache was cystitis because the pain was similar. I sent an email to my family physician that I was having cystitis again and asked for an antibiotics cure. In the middle of the cure, when the condition hadn’t gotten any better, the family physician asked me to come for a visit and then sent me to the gynecologist. I had never been to a gynecologist before because I was so afraid to show my body to anyone, I didn't want to get a lecture from the doctors, although I knew inside me that something was really wrong, but still thinking that everything might turn out fine when I just ignored the problem. NO?
The gynecologist looked at my tummy and asked, “What's that? Are you pregnant? Have you never thought this might not be normal?” I explained my theory about it and added that it was my first ever visit to a gynecologist. The doctor was speechless.
After doing the procedures the doctor couldn't even look me in the eye. She said I had a gigantic 20 kilo tumor in my body. I panicked. I was in shock (even now, writing this, my tears are falling, and I am trembling all over my body). The doctor sent me to the next room to give blood samples. There I had to stand up from the chair and just sit on the floor because I was just crying hysterically, trembling heavily, just not being able to acknowledge all that. ALL THIS WAS SO HORRIBLE AND I WAS ALL ALONE! The nurse who took the blood samples was really nice, and calmed me down like a mother. She told me that I had nice tattoos and she gave me something to drink. A month after getting the diagnosis I went for the surgery. The tumor was benign, and everything went well, and in just two hours, I was 20 kilos lighter. My new body was very weak. There seemed to be no muscles in my torso that would hold me up. I am 182 cm tall, and after the surgery, my weight was 69-72 kg. I was really thin, ideal for myself, except for the varicose veins in my legs and the loose skin on my tummy.
Three weeks after the surgery, I had a stasis in my left pelvic vein that was diagnosed as tendonitis in the ER, and I was sent home although my leg was thick as a log. Finally, in the CT scan, they identified the problem, and the day before yesterday, I finished my stasis treatment. So, I'm supposed to be alright, and everything should be great! And yeah, my body is fine but my mind isn't. As the tumor was so large, my body was not able to keep the extra kilos, and I could eat anything, anywhere and in any quantity, and I still looked scrawny, just with a huge belly. After the tumor was gone, I continues with my old dietary habits only now my body was able to acquire extra kilos. All extra calories were carefully stored. At one point I weighed 95 kg. I gained new despise for my body as fast as I gained the weight. Help! I had to pull myself together, and after a couple of months my weight was 10 kg less.
Then came the Covid lockdown and I put the weight back on in no time. By that time, the relationship between my body and me was really strained. I was eating chocolate all day and just crying. Last summer, I finally made peace with my body. I went for walks, nurtured my body with food, meditated often, looked at myself naked in the mirror every day, and embraced my body. After all, I have nice legs that can take me to wonderful places; hands that I can use to hug my family and friends and pat my dogs; a tummy that houses my vital organs and digests delicious food; and a butt that my boyfriend really likes. We (my body and I) reached an understanding and mutual respect. Today, I am not bothered by some extra kilos as I used to be. As for health, of course, I could be more active, and I should improve my diet, but at the moment, it's not my top priority. Thank You, my dear soft body. ♡
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
100x100cm
I am contemplating the human body, referring to my own as the simplest and the closest example, with the metaphor of a "journey". The journey means development, growth, ascending on a vertical axis – from small to big, from a sprout to a tree – but it also represents the pursuit of perfection, gaining experience and skills, and optimizing usage.
The life journeys of living creatures, humans included, are usually depicted as patterns where juvenile specimens move (as once said by an old and wise Seto woman) "towards life”, while older individuals move “towards death". At some point in the middle of life, there is a break, and beyond that the path doesn’t lead towards greater strength, flexibility, blossoming and fertility. Instead, it heads towards fatigue, inactivity and inevitable halt – death. However, this stereotypical view overlooks the extremes of life and bodies, such as childhood and child's body, old age and old person's body. Moreover, the body’s development is uneven, depending on external factors. Despite a shared development pattern, countless variations appearing in the process result in zillion different bodies.
Reflecting on my own experience in my existing body, it has been a journey on a fragmentary and hectic axis – a trip, a journey or just a floe – marked by fun beginning, stormy middle part, many forced stops and setbacks. Now, I find myself in a rather enjoyable cruising mode. While many exciting (and perhaps more turbulent) times lie ahead, I look forward to speculating about them.
The body that was born in Kuressaare hospital at 3.30 p.m., in the Soviet Union, albeit in an almost free country, was the first grandchild in a large family. Despite being a girl, a tradition in our family for centuries, I was still considered the heiress. Growing up among the (grand)mothers and aunts of different ages was enriching. Becoming a woman – a strong concept on its own, regardless of the body. I learned about the importance of proper nutrition and vigorous work. I took advantage of various activities, particularly enjoying folk dance, where I could cover my body with archaic islanders' costumes, cinching them tightly with a long hand-woven belt. This tight traditional belt likely influenced by later fondness for snug clothes, especially pantyhose pulled up to the breast.
As a teenager in high school, I battled a serious body complex, perceiving my body as too fat and too tall. As the owner of that body I also felt lacking in feminine skills to take care of it. For a couple of years, I turned to gel nails and blonde hair dye.
This typical teenage body image, rife with anxiety, took an unexpected twist with the diagnosis of multiple sclerosis on June 13, 2013. The midsummer sun spread lovely warmth over the body full of the perseverance and fear in the procedure room of the Maarjamõisa hospital.
*
I can see transcendent, blurry spots, resembling fish spawn in my home garden ponds or any glassy mass that is hard to capture with the eye, moving faster than the mind. The pain accompanying eye movement induces panic, fearing the loss of eyesight. People gather most of their information through their eyes. However, is it possible to learn to read with your fingertips? In the morning, upon waking up, you initiate the system check: what is not functioning today? The thumb and fingertips of the left hand tingle. Test movements yield a definitive result – the fingertips no longer function as they once did. At least the eyes are back in business.
Gazing into the mirror, the body seems unusual. This peculiarity may not be immediately noticeable. Legs are straight, the knees are functional, hips parallel with the ground, no strange tingling or lifeless limbs. I stare at tousled hair, featuring lighter strands, covering an oval face with dry skin, a large mouth and one protruding tusk; a straight nose; overly narrow eyebrows and clear gray-blue eyes with long dark eyelashes... One pupil remains stationary; simultaneously, the other one can move left and right like a young foal.
In the morning, waking up in the hospital, you initiate the system check: what is not functioning today? The skin on the right side of the abdomen has lost sensitivity. This neglected part of the body is obviously not receiving the attention it deserves! Oh, right side of the abdomen, you are so beautiful and nice, we have taken you for granted.
You administer the shots of medication, leaving blue marks and dry spots on your body. You sit under the dropper for hours, infusing potent drugs into your veins, enduring plasmapheresis, tests, tests, rehabilitation. You start to appreciate your body, longing for every rare moment when you can forget that you are merely a piece of meat in a container moved by millions of tiny muscle cells and nerve fibers, each crucial and necessary for a human body to feel normal as a whole.
*
Before long, as an inhabitant in this body, I grew weary of this monotonous and unpredictable existence. Although I had come to terms with my life and my mortality, this mere existence seemed rather challenging to me, and if there’s one thing I dislike, it's suffering. The purest form of suffering is felt in bodily troubles. So, overnight, I regained my health: I quit smoking and drinking, became more active, ate healthier and praised my incredible body. "You’re amazing, body! You’ve been moving me around on this Earth for so long! A truly intelligent machine with all its functions cleverly worked out..."
I intend to spend many active, crazy and enjoyable years in this body, even though I am aware that at some point, the disease may return with a vengeance, making it difficult for me to move, talk or function in a way that I truly appreciate. Nevertheless, I have experienced many passionate, horrible, sweet and peaceful moments in this vessel that I cherish.
My body has provided me with the opportunity to experiment, to gain weight, to lose weight, to epilate and wax, and then practice total tweezer/razor asceticism. For instance, in the future, I can grow lovely Matilda hair or undergo a mastectomy. Every human body, broken or not, is an exceptionally versatile and durable machine, and its sole purpose can be to offer an opportunity to live an exciting life.
*
Among other things, it is important to me that the body I have been inhabiting be properly recycled. The human body is rather toxic. The sanctity of graveyard soil may be linked to the fact that all bodies decompose, releasing fluids and larvae into the graveyard soil, along with hip prostheses and pure silicone. My body is filled with suspicious chemicals and high-tech biological materials, and all of this cannot be good food for the Earth’s biosphere. Still, I have a dream... A) When I die, I won't take up much space and won’t be a burden to anyone. B) My body will become a blackcurrant bush. I don't particularly like blackcurrants (at least, not until now). Compared to other dark berries like blueberries, grapes and blackberries, blackcurrants have some texture issues. So, it would be a nice gesture, even after crossing over, to symbolically compensate for my bias towards this bush. My little, imperfect but respectable body could be ideal for fertilizing a robust blackcurrant bush in a far corner of a garden. The berries could be consumed at the eater's own risk, but the plant might thrive. Thus, my body in the second round could have a certain vertical fling as well.
*
Feelings about participating in the project:
I like it. It generates a warm feeling because I like my body and I enjoy discussing it. I would be happy to share all my stand-, sitting and lying points (there are many, as I am mostly a bed-based organism).
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
100x120cm
I've pondered about this article many times over the past few weeks, considering how to express my thoughts and what to emphasize. Each time, I’ve returned to the same concept: cultivating an extraordinary relationship with your body is some of the most challenging and rewarding work you will ever undertake.
My connection with my body has undergone significant changes throughout the years. The struggle wasn’t limited to the outer appearance but extended to how I perceived it. It's a complex relationship – attempting to embrace my innate beauty while simultaneously downplaying the aspects I find challenging, discouraging, and less than ideal. Until I found a balance, there were years when "taking care of my body" wasn’t even a consideration, relying on my youth, and other periods when I took the opposite approach in search of balance. There were times I felt content with myself and carried on seamlessly, but conversely, there were moments when I neglected myself for months or even wanted to disconnect.
Personally, the real change and challenge began when I decided to change my approach to my body and started "listening to it" more. Well, it wasn't that easy, and I wasn’t accustomed to it. Many times, I wanted to give up listening and continue trusting that my brain or society knew more than my body. It’s crucial to remember that choosing to get up every morning and genuinely thank my body – a fully functioning, seemingly healthy form – really from the bottom of my heart, is a constant decision. As a grown woman striving to define beauty beyond societal standards, I recognize the need to do the work and establish my own understanding of beauty. I often falter, but I'm committed to trying again the next day and the day after that. It took a while to develop this reflex, but once it clicks, you never want to go back!
As I began to accept myself more, I also started listening and understanding more. I heard glimpses of myself – each of us struggling to find balance in defining what our true beauty looks like, feels like, moves like, and sounds like. Instead of acknowledging our worth, many of us create patterns of doing, accomplishing, and proving ourselves over and over again. We often overcompensate with our achievements, filling the self-perceived gaps, forgetting to take the time to just be. It is crucial to accept that we may have different paths and ways of feeling and understanding, with various misunderstandings, dark thoughts or blocked emotions. Remember that you weren't in those shoes, and there may be much you don't know. Try to understand before judging, acknowledging that we don't have all the data in the world, and our little brains can be easily mistaken. I found peace in listening less to people and more to nature, music, animals, kids, and especially my own body. I discovered "my language with my body" in yoga, dancing and martial arts. Yours may be somehow similar but also unique in your own way..
I realize I haven't said anything groundbreaking, but I believe these words will hold meaning for someone ready to experience their enlightenment. Sometimes, we search for answers that have been there all along. It is both heartbreaking and amusing that as we age, the aphorisms that once sounded cheesy or naive now resonate as core truths – simple yet effective. Real.
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
100x130cm
My Relationship with My Body
In essence, my longest relationship ever, with its highs and lows. I don't recall thinking much about my body during childhood. The rare occasions when I had to consider it were while hearing adults' comments – so tall, so thin, so blonde... These were factors I became aware of through others' reflections, yet I didn't dwell on them. Running, reading, and playing with a bride's veil made of a curtain were more significant.
The first time I felt insecure about my body was when a female middle-aged relative remarked that my summer dress was too short and not decent to wear because men were watching. I remember the confusion. What do you mean, too short? I like this dress; it's lovely! Since childhood I’d been wearing miniskirts and crop tops without a second thought about what men might think. Now I realize how privileged I was in my naivety, and I am grateful for that.
With the bodily changes during puberty, there was a sudden shift – everything felt different and wrong. Too tall. Too broad shoulders. Too muscular thighs. A fat tummy. Small breasts. The body that had simply... EXISTED... was now unfamiliar. I haven’t fully recovered from that change; the past 20 years have been an ongoing struggle with my body image. I was convinced that at one point, I'd achieve the body of my dreams, meaning a flat tummy. I don't know why this tummy garnered so much hatred. For a long time, it was accompanied by an obsession with the scale reading – if only it could be under 60 kg! Still, I didn’t do much about it. I’ve never been a diet person. I love to eat. It's my greatest joy and pleasure. I work out a lot, so I don't need to make changes in my diet. But I also didn't go to extremes in my training. I am wisely lazy in that sense. So, all I had left were those tricks – apple vinegar water, green tea, nightly poultices with coffee, peeling, massaging, brushing. And criticizing myself. Actually, I should be more grateful to the men I’ve had in my life because, thanks to them, I’ve made peace with my body. Their compliments and admiration gave me the courage to feel comfortable in my body. I convinced myself to believe what they saw in me and forbade myself to have any doubts. This method doesn't work until the very end because when men aren’t around, the doubts return – until the next compliments are heard. And the cycle starts all over.
Somewhere in my late 20s, I realized that I might never have my dream body, and I had spent my whole life despising my beautiful body in its best shape. At one moment, it will start getting older, and I’ve never been happy about it. In the same period, I suddenly started gaining weight, and it didn't stop until I reached 70 kg. And there it sits right now. Strangely, with the gained weight, I didn't lose my self-confidence – although my clothes were too tight, and the sizes were a little frightening, my naked body or my body in underwear was more likable to me than before. I was softer, rounder, more feminine. Where there had just been a hunch, there was now a shape. And of course – breasts. They seem to be the number one thing in a woman's self-confidence. For them, I am willing to sacrifice my flat tummy and smooth thighs!
Where am I with my body at the age of 32? I'd say that sports saved me. I am thankful to my body for its capability, and I don't think too much about external looks. I have accepted some rather crazy challenges and my body hasn't failed me without too much resistance. The last thing I could think of, after a 24-hour bicycle ride, cross-country running, and winter swimming competition is the way I look at the moment. Sweaty, dirty, bruised, snotty... But how strong and mighty! Other issues have risen. Does my body have enough sleep, liquid and nutrition to cope with training and recover? Everything else is less important. So, for me, the way to make peace with my body is to pay attention to what I want to do with it. And to be endlessly grateful for it while it still makes everything possible for me.
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
90x70cm
My body is me. I want to move forward, but my body constantly pulls me back. Visually, my body is a beautiful specimen, with no apparent issues. However, internally, things get complicated with illnesses, pains and sufferings. My body likes to surprise me with these challenges, but like the deeds of every prankster, they only bring tears and anger. Its main trick is the autoimmune disease, where the body attacks itself. You nourish it, take it for walks and care for it, but most of it seems to contribute to a slow form of suicide. All my grander dreams have been shattered by my physical body. The physical challenges also impact the mind, destroying what’s left of my mental health.
I am not giving up, yet – new dreams are waiting in line. But with each passing year, the queue shortens. I do not hate my body. I’ve even learned to love it. Yet, sometimes I still wonder what my life would be like without the pains – how much happier I could be without limitations.
Marita Liivak
Oil and acrylic on canvas
130x150cm
Even though I’ve only lived a third (or so I hope) of my life, my journey with my body seems twice as long. Nevertheless, I’m glad to reflect on it and feel happiness in the present. Happiness because I’ve reached a point where I value what I have and each day I make a conscious effort to care for my body.
My dissatisfaction with my body began long before school, where, willingly or not, you start comparing yourself with others in stark terms. In that black-and-white world, I realized my friends were thin while I saw myself as fat. It's amusing to think that this realization haunted me for the next 15 years. The teenage years were even more “exquisite”, as in addition to the weight gain, bullying became a part of my reality. Ironically, it THICKENED my skin but fueled my activity for the wrong reasons.
By the end of the basic school, I reached a point where I was totally content with myself – I was active, I ate properly and was generally average compared to others. I was okay with that. However, the joke was on me – the comparisons persisted when I changed schools and encountered classmates who looked like fashion models. So, back to square one. But humans are adaptable, so I got used to myself by the end of secondary school.
Gradually, I started exercising and adopted healthier eating habits to have the energy for an active life and do whatever I please. For a while, everything went well, but then I hit a wall. Excessive exercise and pushing myself to the limit led me to a point where I woke up one day unable to walk at all. This meant a three-week hospital stay, with the fear that all my efforts for a healthy body might cost me my kidneys.
Yet, I find solace in the fact that this rollercoaster has brought me to a place of bliss. Despite not being in my "best form", I’m happy. Happy because I’ve found normality – my normality. I’m working towards being fit in old age; I’m not trying to push my limits (except when traveling) and I listen to what my body has to say.
Marita Liivak
Oil on canvas
150x150cm
As a kid I wasn’t fat per se, but I was always the biggest in my class. A head taller than the boys, often mistaken for the teacher. I remember hearing “diet talk” as an 8 or 9 year old but even then I rejected it. Why did I need to be smaller? I was strong, tall, and powerful. Yes, my thighs were bigger, but that’s because I could kick the hardest.
As a teen my mom would pick me apart and try competitively dieting with me: “Whoever loses 5 pounds first wins a PRIZE!” but I hated her and thought all her ideas were stupid, so I directed my anger back at her instead of internalizing it. Maybe not the healthiest scenario, but it really did help me escape a lot of self-hatred.
In my 20s I worked as a fit model for designers - kind of a living mannequin. My only job requirement was to stay exactly the same size: a “perfect 2X”. I’d go to fittings and hear people say things like “well, she has a belly… so that’s good.” And then they’d hire me for $125 an hour to stand in one spot. How could I hate my body or try to change it when it was literally keeping a roof over my head?
My body’s always felt like a tool for me to use. It’s a vehicle to get me where I want to go. I think the insidious belief is that it somehow keeps me from being loved. That someone who claims to be attracted to me is either lying or pathological. If they’re not playing a joke on me, it must be that there’s something wrong with them.
I’ve never been ashamed of the way I look, but there was definitely a defensiveness in the way I presented myself - like “Take a look everybody! Get your eyes full. I’m your WORST NIGHTMARE and I’m still kicking.” Today I think my challenge is to be vulnerable. To let people see me and allow myself to be loved - instead of permanently protected by not giving a shit.
Today, there are so many places to buy sexy clothing in my size and there are so many people with bodies like mine on social media, it’s become easier to recognize that fat bodies are beautiful. Not just normal, not just useful, but to be desired. But it’s hard to be hopeful. You can’t control anyone else and it’s really scary to admit that you want or need things from them.
As far as being an actor- I can only think of one time that someone I respect ever told me (to my face anyway) that my body was unacceptable. When I was 22, a college professor said kind of cavalierly that I was very talented, but I’d have an easier time in my career if I lost some weight. I dismissed the idea pretty much immediately because I’d been fortunate to discover fat acceptance a few years before that, but if I’m honest- there’s a good chance that he was right.
It’s impossible to know what my career would or would not have looked like if my body looked differently, but I think it’s likely that I would have tried harder to get paid work much earlier. I spun my wheels for nearly 10 years doing free theater in Los Angeles before ever really trying to get an agent or to get film or TV work. I didn’t see anyone who looked like me working so I assumed it would be pointless to even try. I think if I were thinner, I might have felt entitled to the opportunities that my friends and classmates were getting. Instead, I saw it as just the way things worked: the cute, petite girls get to star in shows. Girls like me play mothers, grandmothers, and support staff.
I heard things like “You’re too fat to be pretty, and too pretty to be fat!” There wasn’t yet a space for pretty AND fat so I felt my only option was to create work for myself. I got really into solo performance and wrote a one woman show that I took to festivals across the US. I turned one of my monologues into a video that went viral on YouTube when the site was just one year old. 2M views is nothing today, but at the time I was written up in newspapers and flown to NYC to be on the Morning Show. (And! One of the people who watched that YouTube video in 2007 was Sarai Walker, who went on to write a novel called Dietland that got turned into a TV show that I got to star in 10 years later!).
I feel so blessed to be able to audition for so many different things today. I feel like my reps really understand me and believe in me and they work so hard to get me seen. I feel really proud of the work I get to do, but every time I don’t get cast, there’s always a little voice that says “BUT WHY?! Is it because they couldn’t imagine a fat person in that role? Is it because I’m too big to fit here?”
Someone gave me a kind of backhanded compliment after Dietland started airing. They said: “She’s so talented. She would have been a big star way before now if it wasn’t for her size.” Maybe they meant I should have gotten thinner sooner, but I took it to mean that the world needed to change before a body like mine could be given a starring role.
That said, I think I’ve always had the essence of a 35-40 year old woman. Literally from the time I was 13 years old, I have never once played a character younger than 30. Maybe I had to get old enough to be believed as the person I am.
Marita Liivak
Oil and Acrylic on canvas
100x150cm
Thanks to Marita, I had the opportunity to think more deeply about the topics of a woman's body and self-acceptance. When I started photographing and filming myself, I realized how vulnerable I really am. In the process, a new perspective opened up to me, how society views a woman's body and how much taboos related to it can affect self-esteem.
Why are there so many taboo topics around the female body? This is the question that makes me think. After all, someone could ask why it is necessary to take a picture of yourself or why it should matter to anyone. But when I think about this painting, it is not just a picture, but a work of art that speaks more deeply about the diversity and contradictions of the female body.
A woman's body often tends to be under pressure in society - striving for an ideal, conforming to norms. Through the painting, it becomes possible to look beyond the outer shell, body weight and forms. It's like an insight that actually shapes us as people. Emphasis on women's appearance, ideals of beauty and constant comparison with someone else can cause dissatisfaction with one's own body. Even I, aware of this source of pressure, sometimes feel inadequate.
This painting represents a moment in my life when I am busy with multiple jobs, struggling with stress and feeling how my body reacts to it all. I am portrayed exactly as I am - not as a woman shaped by an ideal beauty ideal, but as real, real and honest.
Looking at this painting, I see not only a work of art, but also a message about self-acceptance and how a woman's body is constantly changing. It's a reminder that we should respect and love our bodies just the way they are, because it's the carrier of our lives and experiences.
Marita Liivak
Acrylic on canvas
120x130 cm
In my early years, I grasped a notion that gaining weight was the worst thing that could happen to me, a belief reinforced by the environment around me. Over time, I learned several tricks, such as vomiting, dieting, overexercising, and, ultimately, meticulously counting calories and macros.
I lived in constant unhappiness, driven by a fear of food and a lack of trust in my own body. Fortunately, I got tired of it, reaching a point when I realized that this lifestyle was unsustainable. I knew I wouldn't continue training 5 times a week or obsessing over macros at the age of 60. A sustainable relationship with my body for me meant embracing intuitive nutrition and activity, but first, I had to reconnect with the intuition within my body and break free from old, ingrained patterns.
In a somewhat amusing twist, my path to healing involved canceling my fitness club membership, lounging on the couch, and indulging everything my soul (or rather, my body) desired. After a decade of starvation, my body craved a lot, mostly the junk food I had denied myself. Despite our best efforts, the things we forbid ourselves often become the most enticing.
My reasoning was straightforward: first, I needed to grant my body everything, so that eventually, it could start making choices on its own, guiding me without restrictions. Additionally, I couldn't embrace exercise until I let go of the idea that "I must be active" and replaced it with "I'd like to be active". Although the journey proved unexpectedly terrifying, my self-trust remained unwavering, knowing that, eventually, every piece would fall into place.
Six months and an indeterminate number of (logical and not at all frightening) extra kilos later, the insatiable hunger subsided. I craved something else, beyond just crisps. I disposed of my old, small clothes and got new ones. I revelled in the unprecedented joy of having larger breasts. They had always been small and now, for the first time in my life, I felt the feminine confidence of having tits! Everything was okay. I had my appetite, my life didn't crumble due to weight gain, and in my relationships, I was still (if not more) loved.
I undertook this heroic journey, but I will forever remain vigilant to prevent my old mindset from resurfacing. My life choices will not be dictated by delusional beliefs that my value is somehow tied to my size or form.
Since then, I don't celebrate weight loss, nor do I fear weight gain. The focus is on clothes fitting me, not the other way around, with the utmost importance placed on how I feel.
Marita Liivak
Akrüül ja õli lõuendil
Acrylic and oil on canvas
120x100cm
Marita Liivak
Akrüül, õli ja pastell lõuendil
Acrylic, oil and pastel on canvas
100x100cm
Marita Liivak
Akrüül ja pastell lõuendil
Acrylic and pastel on canvas#
100x110
Marita Liivak
Akrüül ja õli lõuendil
Acrylic and oil on canvas
110x100cm
My uncle used to have this female AmStaff terrier called Ralfa. When Ralfa had puppies, my uncle decided to divide them amongst the entire family.
From there on out I grew up, being surrounded by one breed of dog. But one of those puppies called Betu, who was given to my parents, was the most special to me. Despite never being trained, Betu was an elegant dog with impeccable manners. Whenever someone would do something stupid in front of her, she would silently judge you with her subtle gaze. We grew, played and spent wonderful time together. She instilled the knowledge in me that once I grew up I would take a dog just like her. Her face is home to me.
Marita Liivak
Acrylic and marker on canvasboard
Akrüül ja marker lõuendiplaadil
50x40cm
“Graduating high-school was an intense period. In addition to having my school tasks, my mother was also going through a divorce. My step-father wasn’t violent, but he was so repulsive to me that I had decided to act as if he did not exist.
He didn’t grant my mother divorce easily. That also began emotional terror that didn’t end even after the divorce was finalized. He didn’t want to leave and that feeling started to haunt me. In my nightmares, I always saw him in my periphery, getting slowly closer. In one nightmare he got so close to me that I yelled through my sleep “What is this?!” and woke up the person sleeping next to me.
After that, I didn’t see him in my nightmares any longer, but one day, walking home from school, I saw him near my house. I do not know why he was there or what he was doing near my home, but I quickly ran inside and locked all the doors. Next he appeared uninvited to my graduation. Suddenly the nightmare was real.”
Marita Liivak
100 x 70 cm
Acrylic and pastel on canvas
2023
Marita Liivak
120 x 120 cm
Acrylic oil, marker, spray and pastel on canvas
2023
Marita Liivak
90 x 90 cm
Acrylic, oil, pastel and spray on canvas
2023
NOTE: Due to the dimensions of the work, outside of EU it will be either shipped rolled up or we also offer to arrange an art courier company to ship it for additional fee.
Marita Liivak
100 x 120 cm
Acrylic and oil on canvas
2023
NOTE: Due to the dimensions of the work, outside of EU it will be either shipped rolled up or we also offer to arrange an art courier company to ship it for additional fee.
Marita Liivak
100 x 100 cm
Acrylic, marker and pastell on canvas
2023
Marita Liivak
100 x 100 cm
Acrylic and pastel on canvas
2023
“At the moment, Tallinn Art Hall’s Lasnamäe Paviljon is located near the Lindakivi cultural center, but once there were ramps there. I have been rollerblading since I was 5 years old and it is still my favorite pastime after drawing.
One day we went to the ramps. I stood on the edge of that little ramp for what felt like an eternity until I finally got the courage to go down. It turned out that the adrenaline that accompanies such a steep slide is much more powerful than the fear that prevented it. We spent the rest of the day having fun going back and forth on the ramp.”
NOTE: Due to the dimensions of the work, outside of EU it will be either shipped rolled up or we also offer to arrange an art courier company to ship it for additional fee.
Marita Liivak
170 x 150 cm
Acrylic, oil, spray paint, marker and pastel on canvas
2023
“These boys are always up to something”
Marita Liivak
Acrylic on canvas
170x150cm
2024