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Review by Rosa Reitsamer of
the exhibition I am not a Feminist.
I am normal., curated by Marlene Haring and Anthony Auerbach, Austrian Cultural Forum, London, 2004, published in Art in Sight, London, January 2005
Who wants to be a Feminist?
More
than thirty years after female artists
such as Valie Export, Sanja Ivekovic, Carolee
Schneemann and others developed their practises
along feminist theories, ideas and concepts,
a recent group show at the Austrian Cultural
Forum, London, was entitled ‘I am
not a feminist. I am normal.’ The
exhibition was conceived by the artists
Marlene Haring and Anthony Auerbach as
a parallel project to the Valie Export
retrospective at the Camden Arts Centre
and brought together a small selection
of works by younger artists. Not least
because of direct reference to Valie
Export, the title of the exhibition,
as well as the works which are collected
under it, pose several questions which
refer to an obviously ambivalent relationship
that young female artists have with feminism.
Now more than ever, many young female artists do not like to describe
their artistic practise as explicitly feminist, for the combination
of art and feminism has brought many female artists more stigmatisation
than fame on the traditional art market. ‘Feminist art’
is often used to set boundaries anew and to perpetuate established
clichés. Feminism is not an aesthetic and does not inevitably
produce ‘feminist art’, rather, feminism is a tool for
political analysis of women's experiences in a sexist, racist and
anti-semitic culture. However the main problem seems to be that
both the art establishment and the feminist community understand
feminism as a specific aesthetic or characteristic style. A feminist
standpoint gives rise to specific questions about art production,
but the questions, aesthetics, and styles of female artists are
multi-faceted and heterogeneous. They cannot be declared as one
standpoint, one aesthetic, or one style. Yet the title ‘I
am not a feminist. I am normal.’ seems to suggest one feminism
or one feminist standpoint which is perceived to be different or
even abnormal.
In the 1970s, female artists questioned the representation of
the female body in order to highlight the depiction of women as
passive objects of male desire. The encoding of the female body
in society, its stigmatisation and devaluation, has since been at
the centre of many women’s art production. In their artistic
practise the ‘subject woman’ is no longer passive, but
refers to an oppressed existence, which, in art production, brings
out a specific politics of identity. This once revolutionary idea
provokes young female artists to disassociate and distance themselves
from feminism. At the same time, identity politics, has since the
1990s, become an instrument of the mainstream of the traditional
art market. The expectation of the art establishment towards marginalised
and discriminated female artists is manifested in the demand to
make their identity a central theme, but without referring to the
history of oppression and resistance. Therefore an identity politics
is demanded and expected, but one that is freed from its political
content and demands, and thus floats in an empty space.
Against this background, how can the title ‘I am not a feminist.
I am normal.’ be understood? Is it supposed to be an implicit
critique of the traditional art market? Or a critique of the feminist
community, which searches for a feminist and/or female aesthetic
in art production by women? Or does the title want to dissociate
the exhibition from the artistic practise of women who understand
themselves as feminists? But the essential question is: Why would
it be necessary to distance oneself from a tool of analysis of power
relations? Do racism and sexism belong to the past because women
and people of colour are allowed at universities? Is the discrimination
against women and people of colour passé because identity
politics have become mainstream in the arts, or because the questioning
of discrimination is associated with a specific generation of women,
generally regarded as old fashioned, lesbian, and separatist? Each
generation of women wants to do things their own way, and obviously
has to define itself in contrast to the generation of their mothers.
But can a title like ‘I am not a feminist. I am normal.’
express this attempt at self-definition without supporting a neo-liberal
social order? Probably not, because this self-definition seems to
function through fixing and establishing normality and abnormality,
through constituting a ‘self’ and an ‘other’,
through determining oneself as a member of normality. ‘I am
not a feminist. I am normal.’ seems to postulate normality.
Except that what is supposed to be ‘normal’ remains
uncertain, at least until visiting the exhibition. In contrast,
the ‘abnormal’ is clearly defined: feminism.
On visiting the exhibition the same questions arise again and
again: how is normality expressed in artistic works? How have the
questions changed for young artists since the 1970s? How are identity
politics and sexual politics thematised in the practises of young
artists? I will try to answer these questions by walking through
the exhibition.

Katherine Araniello: I Like That, video
Even
before visitors enter the gallery at the ACF, they are welcomed
by Katherine Araniello’s glamour-orientated pop video I
Like That and Marlene Haring’s two-part poster piece
Nivea (1999) and Nivea (2000). Araniello questions
the notions of normality in the sexualised pop industry. How can
one consider being ‘normal’ for a disabled woman who
wants to have fun? How can identity, sexuality and pleasure be visualised
for a disabled woman without falling back on pop icons like Madonna
or Britney Spears? The absurdity of a division between ‘normal’
versus ‘abnormal’ is at the centre of her work and oscillates
between humour and the attempt to thematise a previously seldom
told story. I Like That not only contradicts the title
of the exhibition, but also the ostensible normality of the Austrian
Cultural Forum (ACF). Founded in 1955, ACF is located in a residential
area of Knightsbridge and recognisable from the outside only by
the Austrian flag. Inside, the furnishings, especially the red carpet,
lend a certain old-fashioned character to the building. Here normality
is expressed through references evoked by a specific interior decoration
and by the ACF programme structure with an emphasis on looking back
at Austrian classical music, ‘Vienna 1900’ and Austrian
film of the post-war period. The works by Araniello and Haring presented
in the entrance hall are a disruption of this artificially-constructed
normality.

Marlene Haring: Sex, Death, Nivea, installation, exterior view
In her piece, Haring plays with the pose of the
white pin-up girls. She questions the borderline
between woman and animal as well as the idealised
beauty of women. In Hollywood cinema from the
1930s to the 1960s, white, blonde women played
a prominent role and were a compliant projection
surface for sexual desire. Haring picks up on
these fantasies by satirising women’s alleged
proximity to nature and the animalism in their
existence by humorously confronting the two posters,
namely a naked blonde and a woman covered in hair.
Testing the limits of a female subject-position
in the arts was also a frequent provocation in
Haring’s work in the collaboration
Halt+Boring (1991–2003, together with
Catrin Bolt). Their pieces like Corrections and Call
Boys (a video
installation which displayed film of
the artists having sex with male prostitutes
they hired with the money they received for their
contribution to an exhibition in Salzburg, Austria)
repeatedly take up the male-connoted genius-gesture
and give it short shrift with a wink of an eye
and without a warning finger.

Carey Young: Optimum Performance, video
In the gallery itself there are, among other pieces, numerous video
monitors, which are not presented in a conventional exhibition design,
but attached to the wall or placed on boxes. Optimum Performance
by Carey Young is a video documentation of a performance piece created
by the artist for the Whitechapel Gallery in London. The documentation
features an actor who delivers a rousing motivational speech to
the gallery audience as if they were a group of his own professional
colleagues. While Haring’s and Araniello’s pieces suggest
a direct link to the title of the exhibition, with Young’s
piece it is much harder to find this connection. Optimum Performance
can be read simultaneously as a functional tool designed to manipulate
the abilities of the audience and as a subtle critique of the institutions
and systems of the art world.
Mikki Muhr: On Air, video
In Mikki Muhr’s video, On Air, a woman in a balaclava
helmet appears repeatedly on the screen and sings ‘Hu-hu,
nobody knows me’, while the camera woman gives instructions
and comments. On Air is a humorous exploration of Muhr’s
own identity as a female artist. The continuous exit and reappearance
of the masked woman, who exposes only her eyes to the public, poses
the question of the location of a strategic and political place
for female artists. However the position of the monitor high up
in a corner took away some of its directness, through which its
humorous and absurd elements would be able to fully unfold.

Ursula Martinez: Burn the Bra, performance
The next stop in the gallery space is a stage which was used on the
evening of the opening and otherwise can be used as a place to rest.
The performance Burn the Bra by Ursula Martinez impressed
by its pointedly short staging of a naked woman in a fur coat. Martinez
stepped onto the stage, threw the coat away, asked someone to light
her cigarette, then used it to spectacularly set fire to the little
white triangles attached to her nipples and pubic hair, butted the
cigarette out in her vagina and left the room as quickly as she
had entered it. She left behind an enthused audience, who took nearly
as long to comprehend the performance as it had actually lasted.

Marlene Haring: Sex, Death, Nivea, installation, interior view
The view one might have got out of the window of the gallery onto the
street is blocked by the installation Sex Death Nivea by
Haring. The installation consists of two trestles with a table top
at the height of the windowsill. On this there is a framework covered
with a white tarpaulin. The light-flooded shop window-like space
behind it can be seen neither from the inside because of the white
material covering the view, nor from the street, as the window was
covered with a thick layer of Nivea cream. The installation refers,
in part, to the body, its constructedness and perishability, for
with the passing of time, the thick, opaque layer of Nivea decays
and permits an uneven view of the interior.

Elke Krystufek: Same Time, Next Year; Elke Krystufek and Sands Murray-Wassink: The Naked Conference, videos
In front of the installation on the right there are two boxes, with
a monitor placed on each of them. One shows Elke Krystufek’s
Same Time, Next Year, the other one The Naked Conference
by Krystufek and Sands Murray-Wassink. In the video Same Time,
Next Year (1997–2003) Krystufek plays both parts of the
two-person drama by Bernard Slade, which was a big success on Broadway
in the 1970s. The comedy describes the effects on the couple of
an affair lasting for twenty-six years consisting of once-a-year
meetings in a hotel. Their identities are stamped by economic crises
and socio-cultural events which reflect global, national and private
power relations. The Naked Conference documents a naked
public discussion with audience participation about their photo
project Elke & Sands: Equalities, Equivalences under
feminist viewpoints. The documentation takes up several thematic
fields of feminist theory such as comparisons of female heterosexual
and male homosexual body, female and male gaze, sexual practices,
voyeurism and pornography, and relates them to art practices as
well as art and media theory. The Naked Conference is a
journey through history, theory and practice with numerous feminist-political
intermediary stages. It shows that even in a globalised post-feminist
age there is no escape from the persistent questions of one’s
own identity.

Anna Jermolaewa: Three Minutes of Trying to Survive, video
Anna Jermolaewa’s video piece, Three Minutes of Trying to Survive,
shows a group of rocking dolls which slowly begin to sway. However,
they quickly become individuals, little monsters attacking each
other, pushing each other out of the picture with loud crashes.
The force which moves the dolls remains invisible. Three Minutes
of Trying to Survive questions mechanisms of power that create
hierarchies and the brutality allegedly necessary in order to survive.
The little monitor mounted on the wall pointedly underlines how
the powers which structure society are not necessarily monumental
or even visible.

Sands Murray-Wassink: After VALIE EXPORT ...
The two remaining pieces in the exhibition are located on two opposite
walls. Murray-Wassink’s collection consists of a pair of torn
jeans with the title After VALIE EXPORT (Gay White Western Male
Bottom) Aktionshose: Genitalpanik, the two photos Sands
Eating Himself and Feminist Gay Queer Sands 1974/lemon
pie/Genitalpanik **(V.E.)** and the drawing Portrait of
(down and out) lemon pie/freaky friday/dinky hocker shoots smack!
(sands stv).

Julia Wayne: Untitled record
collection, LPs
Julia Wayne’s Untitled record collection consists of LP
covers of female rock and pop musicians. Wayne’s works deal
mostly with the distribution, encoding and consumption of messages
and images in public space. She questions the supposed boundaries
between the public and private, the spaces of consumption and of
critique. However, the present piece explains itself only in parts.
It remains open whether these twenty-one LP covers with diverse
images of female rock and pop stars refer to the heterogeneous representation
of female musicians in the pop industry, and if they are at all
able to question it. Wayne’s other contribution addressed
the theme suggested by the exhibition title directly in a work entitled
I repeat. I do not affirm, which consisted of a series
of statements on the pattern ‘I am not ... I am ...’
When we read, ‘I am white. I am normal. ... I am a woman.
Am I not a man? ... I am a woman. I am identified.’ among
various correlations and contradictions, we are forced to examine
the ‘I’. These apparently affirmative statements contradict
one another and the piece reminds us that the meaning of a statement
cannot easily be separated from who says it and that the ‘innocent
I’ can mask a multitude of identities and subjectivities.
Sands Murray-Wassink’s work on sexuality and identity is
however much more direct. He pays homage to the work of pioneering
feminist artists such as Carolee Schneemann and Valie Export and
adopts some of their strategies for attacking or overcoming male
heterosexual and homosexual inhibitions, prejudices and norms. Murray-Wassink,
who describes himself as Western homosexual male artist, occupies
a special position in this exhibition in two respects: he is the
only man in the exhibition, and it is he who refers directly in
his works to the practise of female artists of the 1970s.
Walking through the exhibition shows that normality has as many
variations as there are feminist standpoints. The questions for
young female artists have only gradually changed since the 1970s,
yet earlier provocations and revolutionary strategies have undergone
countless redefinitions and revisions. It seems interesting that
the curators chose a piece by a homosexual male artist to refer
to the history of pioneering feminist artists. The question remains:
Who wants to be a feminist, when the connection of feminism and
art for certain young women (artists) seems to be a problematic
one, if not a dubious one? Who wants to be a feminist, when feminism
is allegedly located outside normality, and today it seems more
important then ever to be a member of normality? The hope remains
that women, who organise ladyfests, publish feminist magazines like
n.paradoxa, or run archives like Cinenova are not afraid to be feminists
and to call themselves feminist.
Rosa Reitsamer
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