Eszter Magyar
In a space where art, makeup, and social critique merge effortlessly, Eszter Magyar stands out as a bold figure, defying societal norms and reshaping the female gaze through her Instagram page, @makeupbrutalism, and her other artistic ventures. As an artist exploring an evolving identity, Magyar’s mission-driven visual project showcases a radical blend of human aesthetics and social commentary.
With her ongoing series, “Skinscapes,” she investigates the intricate connection between our bodies, souls, and the world around us, capturing the lasting imprints that shape our existence. Through her lens, she dissects beauty standards, bravely navigating the delicate balance between makeup as an art form and the societal pressures placed on women. As we delve into the many facets of her artistic journey, Magyar’s raw authenticity and steadfast dedication to challenging societal norms become increasingly clear.
First off, could you introduce yourself and your work to anyone who may be unfamiliar?
I am Eszter Magyar, someone in the midst of an identity crisis. Ten years ago, I was a makeup artist, three years ago a content creator, now I am an art director, and hopefully in ten years, I will be a full-time artist. I am all of these and none of these at once, a strange, unorthodox mix that confuses everyone, including myself.
Your work is described as a mission-driven visual project that combines social critique with human aesthetics to revolutionize the female gaze. How do you think art and visual representation can challenge societal norms and provoke thought?
We are so spoon-fed with ideas and standards, so visually overwhelmed that this chaos has become a natural state of mind. We’ve forgotten that there are other ways. To discover them, we need silence—cheesy as it sounds, we need silence to hear our own voices. This is what I did, and what happened? People talk about provocation. Because I like the irregular. I’m a 35-year-old woman who wants to choose for herself what she finds aesthetically pleasing or simply important—and it’s seen as provocation. This is the world we live in now.
In your ongoing series, “Skinscapes,” you explore the idea that everything leaves a mark on us, whether we notice it or not. Can you discuss the inspiration behind this series and how it reflects the relationship between our bodies, souls, and the world around us?
I’m in love with photography and literature—it was clear to me that these two would collide someday. For me, “Skinscapes” is the meeting point: visual poems. Sometimes the words are physically there, sometimes it’s just a sentence in my head like, “I am so soft even your breath leaves a mark on me,” which leads me to photograph patterns I find on my own skin.
In an ideal world, I would have the resources to create multidisciplinary art, a mix of literature and installations. “Skinscapes” is a first step toward this. But honestly, this all sounds more complicated and planned than it is. I know everyone wants to hear these big explanations, but the reality is I have no intentions with most of my projects. I just love manifesting ideas. I read a sentence, my brain makes a connection, I grab my phone, and in the next second, it’s done.
You have mentioned that your work aims to question the importance of beauty standards in today’s society. How do you balance makeup as an art form and the societal pressures on women regarding their appearance?
I do not navigate at all—I have no intention to stay in line or relevant. My method is to listen to my gut and do what is interesting to me. I never consider anything; I dare to make mistakes. It’s easy because I’m no one. I have nothing to lose, and this is the biggest freedom anyone can have.
“What Machines Dream Of” is a collaboration between you and Tamás Olajos, exploring a world where machines decide new beauty trends. Can you elaborate on the concept and your thoughts on the potential dystopian or utopian implications of such a scenario?
If you think about a trend in general, it’s the most human phenomenon. The core idea was to remove the human element and see what’s left. It was interesting back then, when deep learning was not so popular, and NFTs weren’t a thing. To see what a machine dreams of, without any human intention. But with all the AI hysteria now, it has lost its value.
Talking about worst-case scenarios, we are already living in my beauty dystopia. I don’t think it could get much worse. The self-esteem crisis is real, painted faces are considered more normal than unpainted ones, and the hypocrisy is unreal.
Your series “Overuse” highlights the trend of excessive product use in beauty routines, presenting it as a parody. What message or critique are you aiming to convey through this exaggerated portrayal?
“Overuse” was such a fun project to piss people off. Not because I wanted to, but because people are so easily offended nowadays. It was the time when the whole Kim Kardashian aesthetic was huge—baking, contouring, basically drag makeup for everyday becoming a thing, million-step makeup and skincare routines. It made no sense whatsoever. It was so exaggerated—I just pushed it a step further, ripping the method out of its context and creating a parody. It was hilarious. I loved the hysteria around it.
Your work often evokes strong emotional responses, as seen in “Trigger Warning.” Can you discuss the role of discomfort and provocation in art and how it can foster meaningful dialogue or introspection?
That’s the thing—how is a scar provocation? Shouldn’t we think about people who have those scars? Shouldn’t we reassure them that there is nothing wrong with having a scar? They cannot choose not to have them, while people on the Internet can close Instagram and not cry about seeing something real. I’m not talking about fresh wounds, blood, gore, and horror.
People told me to put trigger warnings on my veins, my tongue, my belly button… I don’t think it should be my problem that some people are not prepared to see anything human. It’s not my responsibility to keep anyone safe. This is what “Trigger Warning” was all about—to show the level of unbearable sensitivity in the online space.
Could you share a personal experience or an influential moment that inspired you to pursue the intersection of art, makeup, and social criticism in your work?
I worked as an editorial makeup artist for years before makeupbrutalism became a success. I remember one day when an editor came to set and gave me a simple brief: “just make her beautiful.” Our model was around 15, and it made me so uncomfortable, disgusted even. But it made me question what beauty is or who has the right to decide what beautiful should mean. That was the base. From that point, I just wanted to understand what beauty means to me—everything else came organically.