"Who Does She Think She Is?", and Centuries of Conditioning

Awoke with a start this morning, at 4 a.m. Last night, I pre-screened "Who Does She Think She Is?", fell asleep thinking about it, and awoke still digesting it. Ever since I first saw the trailer, I have been begging people in the DC area (National Museum of Women In The Arts, most notably) to screen this film, and, getting no response, decided that I would take matters into my own hands. I ordered a house party copy, and will be screening it in several small local venues in the coming months.

This film is nothing short of revolutionary: I thank God that it has been made and is being packaged and promoted in such a way that its messages are bound to eventually seep into the collective consciousness. This movie, along with Jerry Saltz's highly influential Facebook post about women artists who are mothers, is a can of worms that desperately needed to be opened.

The issues this film brings forth are so complex and layered, it is difficult to tease them apart. I wept at several points during the movie, in part because the subject currently hits so close to home these days. (I plan to supply tissue and brownies at the screenings.) But being someone who has always been bored and rolled my eyes whenever the subject of "Goddess Culture" comes up (especially in art contexts), I found myself stunned to be particularly moved by the introduction, which stressed the development of our various civilizations as they evolved from goddess worshipping cultures to those that devalue all things feminine, most notably the power of creation.

I thought of the bad reviews I read about the brilliant Janine Antoni's last two NY gallery shows, featuring some work that touched on themes of Motherhood. I thought of the female gallery owner on Jerry's Facebook thread who complained that, when her women artists became mothers, "their work changes". And I thought about my secondary response to this film: while the women's personal histories are beyond inspiring, the reason some of them are not recognized is because their work is not that outstanding. It is derivative, fairly literal, non-confrontational, and executed in a visual language that is easily dismissed.

I wrestled with these ideas for a little bit, asking myself if I was mindlessly following along with the mainstream art world in being dismissive of their work because I didn't get it, and then I thought, "no, I'm not". When looking at art in Chicago last week, I realized that I often discriminate, preferring the work of women artists like Louise Bourgeois, Petah Coyne, Kiki Smith, etc,. over work made by men. I believe this happens for the same reasons that male curators, gallerists and critics (and females who were educated with the values of a male-centric art world) devalue the work of women: it doesn't "speak to them". They can't relate.

I remember being in grad school (it was a while ago, and the dept has evolved since then), and volunteeering to be the one who ran the slide projectors for the faculty when they reviewed MFA applicants. I thought it would be a valuable learning experience, and it was. For whatever reason, the two female members of the substantial faculty were not present at the screening. They might have been putting up important shows, they might have been lazy, or maybe they were tired of having their voices drowned out in these contexts. In any event, I remember several instances of female applicants' work coming up on the screen, and hearing the male faculty say, "I don't know what this is about....", or "I don't get it. Next!" I was so livid after witnessing this, that I wrote a letter to each of the female faculty members, telling them how much their support was needed at these events.

Of note in "Who Does She Think...": several, no, most, of the women get divorced, seemingly a direct result of their drive to make art. And, although they did not make a big deal of this in the movie, one of the women supplements her income by being an assistant for Larry Bell, who tells an incredibly sexist story about her showing up on his doorstep one day, "young and beautiful, in a light cotton dress", looking for work. (He responded by handing her a broom.) She turned out to be quite valuable, and has been helping him make work for several decades. Take a look at his resume.

Watching the extras provided with this DVD (some of which are more potent than parts of the main film), I understand that the director Pamela Boll made an important, unprecedented, and inspirational work with the resources that she had available to her. From all accounts I have read of screenings across the country, a dam has been broken by her efforts: women uniformly leave the screenings weeping, or carrying on conversations with complete strangers about their shared experiences until the wee hours of the morning. I was going to make one of my screenings an all-girl slumber party, but thought the better of it, since men who profess to love women need to see this film more than the women themselves, IMHO.

I am so grateful to Ms. Boll, but couldn't qualm a strong, nagging thought I had at the end of the film: I hope this is only the beginning, and someone will be inspired by this to make ANOTHER film. Because this movie wasn't for me: these women's lives, mainly outside the mainstream art world, were not the life that I aspire to.

I wish someone had interviewed Elizabeth Murray on this topic. Talk to Janine Antoni, Teresita Fernandez, Bjork (whose "Wanderlust" video, I am convinced, is about motherhood): has anything changed for them since they became mothers? What happens if/when they make work about motherhood? Can/will they talk about it? What role does class play in the equation, because wealthy women (and already established artists) can pay for help while they are in their studios?

PLEASE, SOMEONE, create this film. I would do it myself, but I have art to make.

The Point.

We've come a long way, but we all know that we are still not there.

It took centuries for female artists to be recognized as "serious". Then, we were considered serious only if we sacrificed all other aspects of our lives to devote ourselves to making art, (while Bad Boy Artists only become more legendary as they spread their seed.) Despite the fact that our work is still not exhibited, collected, or valued in the same way as men's work, more female artists are visible these days. Some even dare to become mothers, but we all understand the rules... don't make art about motherhood.

Society values life experience in their artists: the more an artist has "lived" (traveled, experimented with drugs & sex, etc.), the more they have to offer in their work. So why is work about the most profound, life-altering, and universal experience still a taboo subject in art?

The mission of this blog will be to present contemporary, unconventional work that tells truths about the greatest life experience of all. No earth-mother vagina art from the 70s. No soft-focus pastel sleeping babies. But powerful work from professional artists who are brave enough to endure the trenches of motherhood alongside the trenches of art making, and daring enough to tell about it.

Stay tuned.