Women's movement
Thanks to everyone who came out to the opening this afternoon. I had a really great time, and hope you did too.
I had two works in the show, the family tree painting I'd posted earlier, Ties that Bind, and this one, A Woman's Place (2002):
The story behind this box is that I had found these really fabulous trashy magazines from the 60s in a thrift store, and got a kick out of the soap opera-esque stories. What really attracted me, though, were the ads. They were aimed to women, trying to get our mothers and grandmothers to become the perfect wife or girlfriend and purchase body slimming cream and girdles and glamour wigs. Funny, we still seem to be subjected to this crap, except now the technology includes lasers and botox and silicone and tooth bleaching gel.
So the more I paged through these old magazines the more I pondered these messages. I pasted the ads inside the box, painting around and over them, and painting the box's outside and inside the lid. I began making these hash marks with my paintbrush's handle and with charcoal that recalled the marks of passing time. One woman tonight commented how often we as women wait for things. Wait to vote, wait for a boy to call, wait for that promotion, wait for the right time for kids, wait to get paid, wait for the presidency. People had all sorts of ideas what the work was about, but I liked that interpretation a lot. I personally related the box and the messages and the marking time as a prison. The keys are a way to get out.
I loved the conversations I had with people tonight. Older women really had a great deal to say about the piece, and it was such a kick talking to them about their experiences and their feelings. It took no time at all before they just exploded with stories, it was great. Women my age seemed to have more questions than comments, and adolescent and younger girls seemed to be attracted visually, but just shrugged and walked away. I found myself curious about the next generation of women and wonder how life will affect them, given the current media views on the role of women.
On the way home I was thinking more about this, and amused and annoyed at the hypocrisy of my girly-girl illustrating assignments. While I love being paid for art I make, it would be wonderful to make money on the art that says something. That means something.
So while I didn't bring home the bacon tonight, I did at least feed my soul... and hopefully a few others', too.
I had two works in the show, the family tree painting I'd posted earlier, Ties that Bind, and this one, A Woman's Place (2002):
The story behind this box is that I had found these really fabulous trashy magazines from the 60s in a thrift store, and got a kick out of the soap opera-esque stories. What really attracted me, though, were the ads. They were aimed to women, trying to get our mothers and grandmothers to become the perfect wife or girlfriend and purchase body slimming cream and girdles and glamour wigs. Funny, we still seem to be subjected to this crap, except now the technology includes lasers and botox and silicone and tooth bleaching gel.
So the more I paged through these old magazines the more I pondered these messages. I pasted the ads inside the box, painting around and over them, and painting the box's outside and inside the lid. I began making these hash marks with my paintbrush's handle and with charcoal that recalled the marks of passing time. One woman tonight commented how often we as women wait for things. Wait to vote, wait for a boy to call, wait for that promotion, wait for the right time for kids, wait to get paid, wait for the presidency. People had all sorts of ideas what the work was about, but I liked that interpretation a lot. I personally related the box and the messages and the marking time as a prison. The keys are a way to get out.
I loved the conversations I had with people tonight. Older women really had a great deal to say about the piece, and it was such a kick talking to them about their experiences and their feelings. It took no time at all before they just exploded with stories, it was great. Women my age seemed to have more questions than comments, and adolescent and younger girls seemed to be attracted visually, but just shrugged and walked away. I found myself curious about the next generation of women and wonder how life will affect them, given the current media views on the role of women.
On the way home I was thinking more about this, and amused and annoyed at the hypocrisy of my girly-girl illustrating assignments. While I love being paid for art I make, it would be wonderful to make money on the art that says something. That means something.
So while I didn't bring home the bacon tonight, I did at least feed my soul... and hopefully a few others', too.