Monday 23 March 2009

Life is a horizontal fall.

William Blake, Satan with Adam and Eve, 1808

Ah! gentle pair, ye little think how nigh 
Your change approaches, when all these delights 
Will vanish, and deliver ye to woe; 
More woe, the more your taste is now of joy 
Happy but for so happy ill secured 
Long to continue, and this high seat your Heaven 
Ill fenced for Heaven to keep out such a foe
- John Milton, Paradise Lost Book IV

Saturday 21 March 2009

Je suis un autre

I ... have nothing. Tired, ill, constantly. Things feel so heavy, weighing on my chest, making breathing difficult — weighing on my mind, making cerebration difficult. 

Wordlessness.

Take it away, Claude ...

Claude Cahun, Self Portrait, 1920

Claude Cahun, Self Portrait, 1928

Claude Cahun, Self Portrait, 1938

"There is too much of everything. I keep silent. I hold my breath. I curl up in a ball, I give up my boundaries, I retreat towards an imaginary center ... I have my head shaved, my teeth pulled and my breasts cut off — everything that bothers my gaze or slows it down — the stomach, the ovaries, the conscious and cysted brain. When I have nothing more than a heartbeat to note, to perfection, I will have won." 
- Claude Cahun, Aveux non Avenus, 1930


I want back my naiveté.

Friday 20 March 2009

Un Peu Plus

Francesca Woodman, Swan Song, 1978


Francesca Woodman, Space2, Providence, 1975/6


Francesca Woodman, House #3, Providence, 1975/6

". . . Perhaps my life is nothing but an image of this kind; perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten. . . . I myself shall continue living in my glass house where you can always see who comes to call, where everything hanging from the the ceiling and on the walls stays where it is as if by magic, where I sleep nights in a glass bed, under glass sheets, where who I am will sooner or later appear etched by a diamond. . ." Andre Breton,
Nadja

Sunday 15 March 2009

Waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting . . .

My coursemates and I had nice treat in our Identity and Visual Representation class this past week.  Amelia invited the artist and feminist Faith Wilding to participate in a dialogue with us about her experiences in the women's art and feminist movements. It was quite fascinating to hear about her experiences with Womanhouse at CalArts and working with Judy Chicago and Miriam Schapiro in their attempts to gain recognition for women artists in both the contemporary art institution as well as in art historical study.

Faith is most widely know for her piece entitled Waiting, a performance piece that comments on the domestic, subservient role of a woman who spends life waiting for things to happen to her, rather than achieving them for herself. 

Wilding, Still from Waiting, 1972

. . . Waiting to be myself
Waiting for excitement
Waiting for him to tell me something interesting, to ask me how I feel
Waiting for him to stop being crabby, reach for my hand, kiss me good morning
Waiting for fulfillment
Waiting for the children to marry
Waiting for something to happen 
Waiting . . .

What struck me most out of Faith's talk was the direct connection between the emergence of the women's art movement and the feminist movement itself. Faith explained that she would never have become an artist if it hadn't been for her involvement in the feminist movement. Indeed, she claimed to have had little interest in artistic creation in the beginning, and even now views herself first and foremost as an activist. Her current work focuses on issues of cyberfeminism, exploring how new technologies and the internet offer the possibility of breaking down gender roles through a faceless medium. I recommend taking a peek at her website or take a look at her essay entitled "Where is Feminism in Cyberfeminism", as it is quite fascinating. 

The most interesting part of the discussion, I felt, was our dialogue about the relevancy of feminism in the 21st century. Not to suggest that our generation is post-feminism per se, but concerning the relevancy of the term 'feminism' itself in a post-structuralist vocabulary. Certainly, it would seem that by using the term feminism, or specifying an artist as a 'woman artist', would only work to solidify the very gender binaries that the movement is ostensibly attempting to abolish. Faith spoke quite emphatically on this point, arguing in favor of the term while rejecting its negative connotations, stating that anyone knowledgeable and well-versed in the academic debates surrounding it would have a clear understanding of this. Certainly, the name itself carries an inherent strength, one which ought not be discarded so flippantly.  

On the subject, I feel that the very inherent meanings of the word 'feminist' is what works against it many times in contemporary settings. The word itself carries so many connotations of radical women from the 70s that, unless one is well-read in contemporary academic writing, many times those are the images that are associated with the movement, and often times detrimentally.  Additionally, by continuing to apply gendered labels to women artists (or 'black artists' or 'gay artists'), we are simply continuing to distinguish them from 'regular' (white, male, hetero-) artists, habituating the 'Othering' of those artists who don't fit into the traditional art canon. In any case, I feel that our academic generation is slowly shifting away from that very distinctive terminology or, at the very least, is more cognizant of its implications.

All in all, Faith's visit was thought-provoking, edifying and quite entertaining. If you aren't familiar with her work, I will plug her website one last time, as well as her involvement with the cyberfeminist group SubRosa-- do visit!

Wilding, Womb Room, 1972

Tuesday 10 March 2009

Subversive Spaces, Revisited

So back in February I wrote on the Subversive Spaces opening at the Whitworth Gallery, expressing my lukewarm reaction to the show and to the space. I stated in my previous post that I hoped to revisit the exhibition sans the opening night crowds and distractions, and I have finally had a chance to do precisely that. I was able to see the show again, as co-curater Sam Lackey took my coursemates and me around the exhibition, answering questions and offering explanations for the presence of certain pieces.

Indeed, having a curator show you around their own show makes the relationship between the pieces seem quite obvious, to be sure. My previous feelings of incoherence have been replaced by feelings of a hyper-coherence of sorts... Sam explained to us that the show has been in the works for over a decade, and one begins to question whether it was, in fact, too thought out. Certainly, not everyone can look at Bellmer and Mona Hatoum and see an immediate connection. 

Still, one of the main issues I had with the show was my lack of understanding for the presence of hysterical women, which is something I would like to retract whole-heartedly. Indeed, Sam's explanations seem plebeian to me now, as the connections between the hysterical woman and the domestic space appear so poignant. For instance, these pieces by Surrealist photographer Claude Cahun and contemporary installation artist Lucy Gunning:

Claude Cahun, 1932


Lucy Gunning, Still from Climbing Around My Room, 1994 video installation

Right? The domestic space as suffocating, as prison-- hence, hysteria. Clearly. One can, perhaps, see how this could be construed as subversive. In any case, the connection is quite obvious upon second glance.

Sam also made obvious that the show was broken into two parts: the private and public. In this way, the lack of cohesion between the two sides was intentional, as the private housed a more dramatic version of the surreal and the public took on a more playful sense for the surrealist flaneur. This was my favorite part of the show at the opening and remains my favorite part now, as the Surrealist notion of the outmoded fascinates me. I also feel this part of the exhibition lives up to the title of a 'subversive space' more than the previous, offering new views of familiar landscapes.

So, moral of the story, you need to go see this show. You have until 04 May, so no excuses, darlings. 

Sunday 8 March 2009

Bach Remix



A bastardization or the making relevant of classical music to a new generation that cares little for it? I'll let you decide. In either case, kid's got skills. I especially love his smirk at the end.

Si tu n'étais pas là...

These past fews days have offered transient glimpses of blue skies, a novelty here in Manchester. Alas, I've been ill, body and mind, and thus unable to enjoy my old friend sunshine. As some consolation, my bedroom window filters in the rays, adding some brightness to this domestic cube. There is something to be said for natural light over the artificial variety. I will never live in such a grey place again.

I've been knee deep in academia these last few weeks (along with a shameless obsession with BBC miniseries...). I find it difficult to believe that we are already at the halfway mark in the semester-- this acknowledgment really ought to jumpstart my ambition, but it hasn't yet. My mind is preoccupied with my fast approaching visit to the homeland. T-minus 22 days until I'm reunited with my kitten, my family, my friends, and hopefully some good, old fashioned Milwaukee sunshine. Still, the moment I leave Manchester I know I'll want to come back. So goes my ill-fated fickle existence.


Brassaï, Statue au Pont du Carrousel, 1940s

"O reason, reason, abstract phantom of the waking state, I had already expelled you from my dreams, now I have reached a point where those dreams are about to become fused with apparent realities: now there is only room here for myself. In vain, reason denounces me to the dictatorship of sensuality. In vain it warns me against error crowned queen at last. Enter, Madam, this is my body, this is your throne."
--Louis Aragon, Le Paysan de Paris, 22

Thursday 5 March 2009

"Oh how I want to be free, Oh how I want to break free"



It's official: I am giving up art history and academia to start a Queen tribute band. Full out queer, called the Killer Queens, and I'll be Fredericka Mecury. Now, to tackle the small problem of being completely non-musical...