Jayne Wark’s Conceptual Art and Feminism piece gives an overview of how four feminists artists have managed to aesthetically challenge the ideological and institutional structures that promote dominant and mainstream art forms.
In “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists,” Linda Nochlin utilizes this “women-question” to inspire a collective reflection on the social environment that has consistently generated a body of legitimate art created exclusively by men, and absent of any so-called “great” contributions from female artists.
“Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present” chronicles the process of Abramovic and her team to prepare mentally and physically for the debut of her show at the MoMA.
What constitutes feminist art? My understanding is that feminist art is confrontational in its nature. Given the historical and present-day reality of our white, male-dominanted world, anything that does not measure up to this standard becomes, by default, inferior, dissident, and unlawful. This becomes the rationale that leads to our conventional belief that women are second-class citizens, rebellious, and sinful creatures. Though one could argue that the mere presence of a woman in a male-dominated social setting is considered defiant and thus a “feminist” action, after reading our course materials for this week, I’d like to situate my understanding of feminism as not only being confrontational, but stimulating self-refleciton of what we consider “normal” and “natural.”
I now reflect on many of our past classes, believing that just about any piece of artwork that disrupts/dislocates/dislodges the stereotypes that are so near and dear to our hearts is considered “feminist art”. Many would consider the female-identity of an artist a prerequisite for the creation of feminist art. However, I disagree. Feminism in itself is not even a monolithic movement. At it’s core, it calls for a disruption of the social and political climate that maintains the sub-ordinance of almost demographic, gender aside. I think of Jimmy Durham’s “Self Portrait” that we saw at the “This will have been: Art, Love, and Politics in the 80’s” exhibit at the MoMA as a contribution to feminist art. This was the cut-out canvas of what we would call the stereotypical American-Indian. As the piece is littered with judgmental phrases that society has projected onto his body, the viewer comes face-to-face with the ridiculous incongruity of our definitions of the American- Indian population. This piece stopped me in my tracks because it exposed me to this crime that I was complicit in. Labeling my counterparts, boxing them into uni-dimensional, commonly polarized and contradictory identities was something that I was guilty of. If this piece were to come alive, if this piece were actually turned into an installation performance (with countless derogatory phrases and symbols placed all over the body of a man), it would still be me who looked foolish. I would still be the one feeling insecure. This is what feminist art means to me.
It throws me off balance. It forces me to see myself as a member of a society that strategically compartmentalizes and conquers certain populations for the benefit of an inconsequential few. It leaves me questioning what I really stand for in life. And this was exactly what I saw occurring in Marina Abramovic’s documentary. Her main piece at her MoMA exhibit left me in tears. Vicariously through the audience members who were bold enough to take on Abramovic’s gaze, I felt incredibly vulnerable, as if her gaze was deconstructing the countenance of not just me but humanity. She was exposing us to our wretched selves. She was the mirror that we all so frantically avoid after we have engaged in some kind of illicit action. However, this time around, I was not being scolded for sneaking a treat from the cookie-jar, stealing my mother’s make-up, nor cheating on a lover, I was on trial as an accomplice for every transgression that this society has carried out against supposed, second-class citizens.
Lastly, as I do not want to end on a pessimistic note, I would argue that feminist art does not leave you suspended in a guilty stupor for long, but rather it catalyzes the processes of self-reflection, reassessment, and re-directioning of one’s life and behaviors. It inspires a gag-reflex of all the injustice and brutality that we have digested as palatable subsistence. I’m really looking forward to expanding my exposure to feminist art, as I feel that it will serve society and myself very well. I also hope that society will have the courage to (metaphorically) sit and stare back at Marina Abramovic.