London-based Brazilian artist Lize Bartelli spoke to FAD contributor Lee Sharrock as she prepared for her inaugural UK solo exhibition. Titled Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me, the exhibition runs from 5th until 11th June, 2025 at Roman Road Gallery in Mayfair.
Named after the seminal song by The Smiths and curated by Roman Road founder Marisa Bellani, Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me will feature a new series of striking paintings scratching the surface of contemporary and historical notions of beauty and desire.
Bartelli’s bold style and palette evoke Pop Art masters such as Tom Wesselman, yet she subverts the male gaze with her depictions of imaginary female characters— Brigitte, Gloria, Simone, and Leila —who embody archteypes of idealised feminity and sexuality.
Lee Sharrock: The title of your first UK solo exhibition– ‘Last Night I Dreamt that Somebody Loved Me’–is taken from the iconic The Smiths song.
Lize Bartelli: This series came together differently from anything I’ve done before. It began in conversation with my curator, Marisa Bellani, and through my ongoing research—this quiet, continuous questioning of what’s innate, as opposed to what’s been projected onto us. A quest for one’s true essence. At first, I kept circling the idea of longing—how women, historically, were taught to wait to be chosen. And I began to wonder: do we still carry that, quietly? While we all crave love, isn’t there still an added, unspoken expectation placed on women? Then the thought evolved. It became more contemporary, somehow—about the desire to be accepted without having to earn it. And from there, something deeper surfaced: that true acceptance begins from within. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I was on a train from Tokyo to Fukuoka. Music on shuffle. Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me came on. And it just made sense. That was it. That was the title.
Your paintings depict strong women who seem comfortable in their own skin and unafraid of their sexuality. Are you purposefully subverting the outdated male gaze of the artist with your portraits of women?
I’m glad you asked this. There’s something fresh and even reclaiming about a female artist portraying female nudity, especially given how much it’s been seen through a male lens. But that’s secondary for me. The nudity in my work isn’t really about sexuality. It’s about shedding shame—showing that when you’re comfortable in your most vulnerable state, you’re truly at ease with yourself. I like to believe the women I paint hold that kind of strength: a softness that doesn’t apologize, a presence that doesn’t perform. Of course, sexuality is part of embracing yourself—but it’s not the focus. What draws me is the plurality of women, the contradictions we carry, the refusal to be just one thing. That space—where softness and strength, sensuality and intelligence can coexist—is what Marisa and I speak of as Solar Feminism. That’s what I’m trying to create: a space where you can be all of it, and be at ease.
You were born in Brazil and now spend time between London and Los Angeles. How does your Brazilian heritage and the culture of London and LA influence your artistic practice?
Yes, I actually live between London and Rio now. My base is mostly the UK. In the past, I spent time working between London and Los Angeles, but now I’m mainly between London and Rio. Being Brazilian has shaped me deeply. I grew up in Brazil but left quite young, and I’ve been living abroad for a long time—over twelve years just in London. As a Latin American woman, I’ve felt how deeply sexism is embedded into culture. My work is a response to that: imagining a world where femininity is powerful, joyful, and free. Living between cultures gave me a kind of double vision. Maybe if I had stayed in one place, I wouldn’t question as much. But I do. Painting became a way to push back, gently, to untangle what is ours and what was placed on us.
There are influences of Pop Art and Fauvism evident in your painting style, with hints of Tom Wesselman, Matisse and Alex Katz. How would you describe your style, and who are your artistic influences?
Yes, I’m glad you picked up on that. I’d say my style sits somewhere between Pop Art and Fauvism. It leans more toward Pop in attitude, but my use of color is definitely influenced by Fauvism, where color is used to set a tone, an emotion, rather than to define identity. In my work, color isn’t about literal representation. It’s about sensation. The colors run throughout the series, and the palette holds everything together. Red appears in every painting, and blue in most of them. Small details too, like the way the lips and nipples match are part of this. All these choices, all this synchronicity, are there for a reason: to create a sense of connection. It’s like a quiet thread running through them. Almost like a sisterhood. The cigarettes might nod to Wesselmann, but that only became clear later. To me, they mark time, a quiet recurring theme in my work. I’ve always been moved by Alice Neel, how she translates emotion. Josef Albers shaped the way I think about color, and Susan Frecon taught me how color can hold space.
You explore concepts of femininity and the place of women in contemporary society with an existential slant. What is the starting point for each painting – do you create a narrative about an imaginary women, or are your paintings self-portraits of your or your alter ego?
That’s a very interesting question. I think it’s a mix. As an artist, it’s impossible not to leave traces of yourself in what you create. Like Lucian Freud said “every portrait is a self-portrait, somehow.” An alter ego? Maybe. Not consciously, but there’s always a part of you reaching for something. The women I paint feel like reflections of an idea: strong but vulnerable, sensual but serious, fully at ease with their contradictions. It’s the world I imagine, a place where women could simply be, without having to perform. At the same time, there’s a quiet question that runs beneath everything I make: What is truly ours, and what have we simply learned to carry? That space—between what’s inherited and what’s chosen—is where my deeper research lives. In the end, it’s just me, a woman trying to make sense of what it means to truly belong to yourself.
Roman Road founder Marisa Bellani has curated your upcoming exhibition and she describes your style as ‘Solar Feminism’. How would you define the term ‘Solar Feminism’
I think Marisa captured it perfectly. When she first shared the concept of Solar Feminism with me, a term she truly created herself I immediately connected with it. It felt so right. She’s such a brilliant curator, and I’m really grateful our paths crossed. I believe in a kind of feminism that is radiant and positive, not antagonistic. That doesn’t mean there aren’t things we need to fight for—especially given the current political landscape. We’re seeing polarization everywhere, and basic rights, including women’s rights, being revoked. It still astonishes me how misunderstood feminism is and how often even the word itself is met with resistance. It’s not about defeating men. It’s about equal rights. Through my work, in my own way, I try to push back but I believe that push can happen without erasing our femininity. We can be powerful through our femininity, not in spite of it. That, for me, is the heart of Solar Feminism.
Lize Bartelli Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me, 5th to 11th June, 2025, Roman Road Pop up space, 12 Saint George Street, London W1S 2FB from
