Feminist Art Is Contemporary Art

"Abakan Red" (1969) by Magdalena Abakanowicz at P.S. 1

WACK! Art and the Feminist Revolution
P.S. 1
Feb. 17 - May 12, 2008

Beth Campbell "Following Room"
Whitney
Dec. 7, 2007 - Feb. 27, 2008

We stopped by P.S. 1 for their must-see feminist show. Unlike last year's "Global Feminisms" at the Brooklyn Museum, which focused on contemporary feminist art, "WACK!," which first showed at the L.A. MOCA, looks at the fertile period of the late 60s and 70s during which women artists asserted themselves, combining the personal and the political using myriad creative strategies to redefine themselves and reinvent the practice of art.

With 120 artists, including many from outside the U.S., this sprawling and celebratory show gives a wealth of evidence that women and feminist art are central to the the story of contemporary art, with subjects like the body and identity and strategies like media critique, autobiography, video and performance all figuring prominently.

The furthest thing from the equivalent of a nostalgic tie-die and bell bottoms time capsule, this work feels more alive and relevant than most contemporary art today.

In an autobiographical body-focused mode, Adrian Piper's "Concrete Infinity Documentation Piece" (1970). Equally bold and vulnerable, the 22-year-old artist obsessively details her daily health routine, including her vegetarian diet, yoga poses and bowel movements. Each diary entry is accompanied by a black and white self-portrait, sometimes topless. Similar work by the artist is currently showing at the MoMA's "Multiplex: Directions in Art, 1970 to Now."

Also employing successive self-portraits are Friedl Kubelka, whose "Das erste Jahresportrait" (1972-73) arranges photos on a calendar, and Eleanor Antin, whose "Carving: A Traditional Sculpture" (1972) depicts the transformation of the artist's body during a diet.

Using video and performance are Yoko Ono, whose brilliant and before-its-time "Cut Piece" (1965) famously shows the artist sitting as members of her audience snip away pieces of her clothing. With a room of her own, Anna Mendieta's spooky and symbolic videos depict her preoccupation with death, blood and the body. A more life-affirmative take on blood is Barbara Hammer's video "Menses" (1974).

Particularly enjoyable are the more interactive installations. In "Feed Me" by Barbara T. Smith, you are invited to sit on an oriental carpet with pillows and listen on headphones as the artist recounts a 1973 performance during which she encamped overnight in the women's bathroom of Tom Marioni's Museum of Conceptual Art in San Francisco, inviting men and women to join her on the rug (there's also fruit, massage oil and marijuana). The artist recalls that "people thought I was here to make love to every man like a power trip..." In fact, she does admit to having sex with one or more visitors, keeping true to the liberated freewheeling spirit of the times.

When your eyeballs are tired out, check out "Soft Gallery" on the second floor. Originally created by Marta Minujin and Richard Squires (a man!) in 1974, this giant womb room made of mattresses bound by rope is designed for jumping around in. So kick off your shoes and bounce off the walls.

In media-critique mode is Martha Rosler, whose "Body Beautiful" series of collage pieces (1966-72) reassembles mainstream media images of women. Her "Body Beautiful, or Beauty Knows No Pain: Cargo Cult" splices fashion magazine images of women and shipping containers, evoking the commoditification of women as part of the beauty industry.

Since feminism is about gender difference it's natural that images of nekkid laddies are everywhere. But this isn't meant to titillate. An extreme example is the artist Cosey Fanni Tutti, whose one-room installation has a warning in the entryway. The work tells the story of a 1976 exhibition at the London ICA called "Prostitution" in which Tutti sold hard-core pornographic images of herself that she modeled for X-rated magazines (so much more crotch hair back then). We see these images alongside correspondence with the porno rags and press clips from the exhibition's ensuing tabloid firestorm.

Addressing prostitution in a less controversial way is Suzanne Lacy. Her "Prostitution Notes" of 1975 maps a project to learn about the lives of prostitutes.

Another feminist strategy is elevating so-called women's work to high art. A great example is Faith Wilding's "Crocheted Environment" (1972), a cave-like space with spidery stalactite-like formations made of yarn.

There is also some art by women that isn't obviously feminist. This includes a few small drawings by Eva Hesse, painted photos by Helena Almeida and a gorgeous colorful canvas ("Stark Strokes Hope," 1971) by Joan Snyder.

Overall there isn't much in the way of exposition. P.S. 1 lets the the art speak for itself. I like this. Wall text is for lazy people.

The museum sets aside part of the 3rd floor for a performance and lecture space. The day we were there, a group of young women called the Pink Bloque were doing a slide show. It was pretty unrehearsed, and M. and I grew weary quickly. Instead, we paid a visit to our favorite room, James Turrell's "Meeting" and froze our asses off waiting for the sun to go down.

A few days prior, I stopped by the Whitney for a last-chance visit to see Beth Campbell's "Following Room." Arranged in the first-floor space, the installation featured 12 exact copies of a room arranged so that when you look at it you think you're looking at a series of reflections -- an "infinity mirror." Experiencing this space gives you a mega dose of cognitive dissonance, like a 3-D version of op-art. Trompe your mind. You end up looking for difference between the rooms. Lamp, shelf, framed photos, chair, red pillow, open book ("The Other Side of Me"), eyeglasses, bunched sock and cat's toy on carpeted rug. All exactly the same. What does it mean? Multiple realities? In any case, it's not pleasant, nor is it meant to be. Curiously, the artist also does autobiographical flowcharts that project multiple futures showing how life takes cruel, but sometimes happy turns. While it wasn't on display, Campbell created one of these diagrams for the Whitney show and it can be seen in the exhibit's accompanying brochure. Entitled "My Potential Future Based on Present Circumstances (10/1/07)," the flowchart begins "I've been invited to do a project at the Whitney..." I wish the original had been on display. I prefer this warmer, vulnerable autobiographical work to her clinical and cold installation. In a way it's more in the spirit of "WACK."