April 1, 2014
As
I read the articles and studied the artwork in the catalogue Global Feminisms: New Directions in
Contemporary Art, I thought about where I would locate myself in the many
different expressions of feminism depicted in the exhibition. The catalogue
caused me to reflect on many questions: “Am I a feminist?” or more
specifically, “Am I a feminist artist?” “What do I relate to in the catalogue
and how does this help me shape my own goals as a female documentary
filmmaker?” And finally, “What styles and formats from this exhibition can
influence my own work?”
Curators
Maura Reilly and Linda Nochlin based the exhibition on the principle that there
is no one definition or history of feminism; rather it is a multi-voiced area
of struggle where cross-cultural differences must be taken into account (26).
They used “feminisms,” a plural noun, to show that “there are varied, multiple,
unstable constructions of female subjects and their predicaments and
situations” (11). The project, which focused on artwork done since 1990,
demonstrated that feminist art today is more flexible than that of the past and
that such binaries as oppressor/victim or beautiful/ugly are not the point of
feminist art today (11).
The
exhibition took a transnational approach in that it presented women’s artwork
from non-Western cultures in addition to that of European and American women
(11). Curators Maura Reilly and Linda
Nochlin used the term transnational rather than international, to signify a
movement across national boundaries that avoids a western-centric approach
(31). So the artists and artwork represented highlighted difference not only
between men and women, but also among women from non-Western cultures and
European and American women, and among women artists within and between
cultures, races, and ethnicities (11). The curators were open to the innovative
ways women from diverse places used the visual culture they inherited to create
critical visual expressions (11). One of the project’s imperatives was to
address the shared and particularized discrimination and oppression experienced
by all women (32). It was an attempt to rethink feminism at a time of increased
globalization (17) and correct the continued disparity not only between women
and men in the art world but between women of color and of non-Euro-American
descent (18-19). The previous art exhibition curated by Linda Nochlin and Ann
Sutherland Harris in 1976, Women Artists:
1550-1950, challenged the academic tendencies of art history for its
masculinist tendencies and not for its Euro-Americacentric ones (27).
I
had varied reactions to the artwork in the project, but overall respected the
goals and objectives of the curators. I admired the works that depicted female
activism, like that of Beijing artist Yin Xiuzhen who documented a performance
titled Washing the River, where she
and passersby cleaned polluted blocks of ice before returning them to a river
in Chengdu, China; or a video by the Afghani artist Lida Abdul, titled White House, showing the artist
whitewashing two bombed out structures near Kabul, Afghanistan (40). I
appreciated the message of Tomoko Sawada’s School Days/E where she superimposes
her “school girl” face onto traditional class photography portraits, creating
different personas, thereby making a statement about the misconception that all
Asians look alike (42). I found the articles describing the cultural and
historical differences in the emergence of feminism in regions like Africa and
Eastern Europe interesting. I’ve always been drawn to textiles made in
different cultures, so I loved the vivid colors of the bottari--old bedspreads
used in Korea to carry belongings from one place to another--that artist
Kimsooja features in her work (113-114). Her method of displaying the bottari
in A Mirror Woman (2002) hanging on
clothesline is similar to a visual I’m currently working on for my Iran
documentary. Lastly I most related to the work that told people’s stories, like
Sonia Khurana’s video The World
(2004), which described her grandmother’s displacement from Lahore as a result
of the 1947 partition of India that established Pakistan.
While
I recognized the artistic merit and the layered meanings in many of the
exhibition artworks, I most appreciated when artists took a subdued (rather
than shocking) approach to rendering their message. I value the subtle as a way
of making meaning. I’d rather quietly advocate a position that may over time
generate change. For example, for my film “Salad Stories,” by showing the
commonalities and differences among the Israeli women making salads, I hope to
break down political and religious barriers. Amira, for example, is a beautiful
Arab Israeli woman who engages in the same everyday activity as Hadas, an
Orthodox Jewish Israeli woman. My Iranian documentary will focus on my
friendship with Iranian immigrant Sharona Mizrahi. One layer of the film will
be about how we both value being home with our children and providing them with
a nourishing and nurturing environment. On the one hand the film will condone
domesticity, on the other it will demonstrate that a mother today can both be
at home with her children and have a career as a filmmaker. In this way my work
relates to that of Polish artist Elzbieta Jablonska. Her work is based on the
rituals of everyday life like preparing a family meal, the nurturing
experiences of motherhood (159), and her acceptance of the expectation that
women should uphold traditional domestic ways (160).
In
her article, “Providing a Space of Freedom: Women Artists from Africa,” N’Goné
Fall discusses the African proverb, “A lion does not need to roar to keep the
crowd in awe,” referring to African women who did not march in the streets, but
gained their freedom gradually in an unseen struggle (71). Personally, I have
never felt the need to “roar” about feminist issues and have adopted a quieter
approach. For example, in the 90s, I had concerns about the patriarchal nature
of modern Orthodox Judaism and wanted to investigate this. At the time I was
invited to write an article for the Winter/Spring issue of the Journal of Jewish Communal Service
focused on women’s issues. I researched and wrote a paper on modern Orthodox
Judaism as an option for professional women. The results were eye-opening for
me as I learned that modern Orthodox female doctors, attorneys, computer
programmers, professors and other professionals can immerse themselves in the
secular work force and simultaneously observe Orthodox Judaism with its
distinct roles delineated for men and women.
As
an observant Jewish woman who loves spending time in Israel, I don’t feel the
need use my work to make bold, shocking statements about politics, religion,
sexuality and culture. While I appreciate the importance of freedom of
expression, especially in art, several works in the exhibition made me feel
uncomfortable: Sigalit Landau’s Barbed
Hula (2000), where she swings a barbed wire hoola-hoop around her bloody,
naked waist to comment on the barrier separating Israel from the Palestinians
(40); Oreet Ashery’s “sacrilegious mockery” in Self-Portrait as Marcus Fisher I (2000), which shows the artist dressed as a Hasidic rabbi looking down
at her exposed breast (43, 67); and Valerie Mrejen’s film Pork and Milk (2004),
where people tell the camera how they have left the religious practices of the
Orthodox Jewish communities in Israel yet have not experienced divine
punishment as a result (151). Israeli documentary filmmakers and photographers often
depict disparaging perspectives. Why do artists and filmmakers persistently
voice left-wing views? Where are the centrist voices?
As
part of my exploration into feminist art, I watched two of Martha Rosler’s
videos: Vital Statistics of a Citizen
Simply Obtained (1977) and Martha
Rosler Reads Vogue (1982). Her theme of the objectification of women and
their bodies resonated for me. I grew up in the Jewish community of Montreal,
an extremely fashion conscious, materialistic environment where the beautiful
body and appearance were central values. We
always had the latest issue of Vogue
in our house. I remember flipping through it on countless occasions wondering
if this was what I was supposed to become. I couldn’t see myself wearing some
of the way-out clothing styles presented in Vogue,
even though I had relatives who did (and still do). In part, my move to Boston
helped me distance myself from those values.
I
appreciate and feel comfortable with Maura Reilly and Linda Nochlin’s broad,
inclusive redefinition of “feminist.” Themes that surfaced in the artworks,
like domesticity, displacement, and political activism, resonate for my work
and personal life. The harsher representations of Judaism and Israel reinforced
for me that I will always take a more centrist approach. While I do not see
myself emulating the styles of most of the artists represented, I can learn
from their thoughtful conceptualization processes, which present multi-layered
ideas in intelligent ways.
Works Cited
Reilly, Maura and Linda
Nochlin, eds. Global Feminisms: New
Directions In Contemporary Art. London: Merrill Publishers Limited, 2007.
Print.
Rosler, Martha. Vital
Statistics of a Citizen Simply Obtained. 1977. Video. Surveying the First
Decade: Video Art and Alternative Media in the US 1968-1980. Prod. Kate
Horsfield. Chicago: Video Data Bank, 1995. DVD.
Rosler, Martha. Martha
Rosler Reads Vogue.1982. YouTube, 12 Sept. 2012. Web. 23 March 2014.
Wolfe Fine, Wendy, “Modern
Orthodox Judaism as an Option for Professional Women,” Journal of Jewish Communal Service. New Jersey: The Jewish Communal
Service Association, 1995. Print and Web. http://www.bjpa.org/Publications/details.cfm?PublicationID=3371
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