“When you’re an ambitious woman, it’s very difficult — you either have to subsume what you wanna do for somebody else, or live with the struggle to fight your partner on top of business survival, and it’s a very unhealthy relationship,” says Nicole Wipp, a 45-year-old attorney and entrepreneur, who found a perfect match in her husband, Marcus Sutherland, a 33-year-old paramedic.
“Dating somebody younger than myself, there’s an acceptance of ambitious women — it’s more normalized.” They met at the University of Hawaii in November 2002, when she was a law student and he was a sophomore undergraduate.
To Susie Lee, founder of Siren, most dating sites and apps are akin to putting a woman up on a stool in a bar with a sign stating that every guy there is allowed to hit on her. But you’ve created a business where you think that’s the model that is going to work.” So Lee, whose background is in visual art, rounded up some of her programmer friends to help create an app that gives everyone the power to control their photo visibility.
“In what circumstances in real life does that ever happen? Instead of browsing static profiles, Siren works more like social networking.
“This is a site that should be compassionate to people who want to make meaningful connections, and how do you do that?
Photo: courtesy Siren." width="640" height="502" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2016/01/1183w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2016/01/Siren-300x235300w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2016/01/Siren-1024x8021024w" sizes="(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px" / There are plenty of dating apps that aim to hand the reins to women, but now there’s even one that was designed by a female artist.
Siren, named for the mythical beauties who lured sailors to shipwreck on rocky shores, was founded by Seattle artist Susie J.
Stephenson begins by sculpting her prospective companions from clay before dressing them in hand-decorated cloth costumes, painting the backdrops and finally crafting the lifelike props.
In “Picnic,” a bored-looking Stephenson reads a papier-mâché newspaper filled with fictional stories she’s fashioned herself. Right now, there are some seven nameless men lined up in Stephenson’s studio: all of them busts, all with closed eyes — to underline their anonymity.
People get to know each other through conversation, sparked by questions that are posted each day.