Rationale: I had been feeling depression creeping up as the end of the semester approached, and so I needed to do something that was fun for me, and that I knew could be a spirit lifter for me.
I also really hate the way my laugh sounds.
By challenging myself to do something that does come naturally to me, such as laughing, was a challenge. But also to record myself laughing even though I hate the way I sound when I laugh was pushing me out of my comfort zone.
Picture someone who identifies as a feminist. One of the most popular stereotypes is an angry, loud woman who declares that all men are awful, probably a lesbian of the "butch" variety, holding up a sign in front of a capitol building wanting more women in leadership.
Some of this image is fine, some of it is not. So what exactly is feminism, if not an angry lady screaming about equality?
I only managed to read a segment of this book (as it is very long and pretty dense, and I wish I could take more time to read it because it's fascinating), and one of the big questions that was posed in the sections that I read was "can a work be 'feminist' if it doesn't allude to the female body in some way?"
Recently, the word "feminist" has become such a powerful and loaded term that a lot of people shy away from it. As a woman, I consider myself a feminist, not because I hate men or want women to rule the world, but I want equality for all genders. I don't want a role decided for me, my brothers, sisters, friends and associates, based on what biological sex I was born as. A woman shouldn't have to work twice as hard as a man for the same position, and a man shouldn't be seen as weak for choosing to stay home with the kids.
The argument here in this book is are we restricting women by only committing their art to that of a sexual nature? By restricting women to being just certain body parts and images, are we restricting the very definition of feminist art? And are we continuing to objectify women as nothing more than the parts of the body that are labeled as sexual? Men in art don't necessarily have to make art about their sex, or their experience as sexual beings, in order to be successful (though many of them do at least one piece that has sexual undertones, don't get me wrong). But it seems as though women artists, "feminist" artists, have a stigma attached to them, that they can't be "feminist artists" unless their work is somehow connected to their sexuality.
And the "feminist" movement is also seen as limited, or was seen as limited in the 1970's. Somehow if you wanted to be a successful artist as a woman, your art couldn't have a gender. "My art is genderless." Of course it's genderless. It's a painting on a wall. But the artist who made that painting on a wall has a gender, and for years women artists have been shamed into these stereotypes because they are, in fact, women artists. Women had to be "one of the boys" in order to get any respect in the art world, and that is simply not the case, and is a stereotype that is slowly coming out of play.
"To deny one's sex is to deny a large part of where art comes from." I don't think that women artists should deny their sexuality in their art--after all, why not own something that for years has been downplayed and downgraded by society? When you own an aspect of yourself, you make it all the more powerful.
Some questions accompanying this subject:
1. Have we restricted the label of "feminist" art to something predictable and confining?
2. How can we as teachers promote equality without shouting it from the rooftops?
3. What can we as artists do to promote equality?
