The Problem of Feminism in Female Art 
By Erin Mahoney 
  
A review of the world’s great artists conjures familiar images: Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel; Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night; Pablo Picasso’s The Tragedy.  There are many more, of course: Monet, Moya, Warhol, Rembrandt, Kandinsky.  What is immediately noticeable, however, upon any brief study of art, is the significant absence of women as heralded artists—not only in our ancient pasts, but even today, amongst valiant efforts for gender equality.   

The question “Why have there been no great women artists?” has been debated since the 1970’s, when historian Linda Nochlin released her book of a similar name.  In the decades that have followed, the number of women pursuing education and careers in the arts has risen drastically; more women than ever are attempting to make a living as artists.  Yet feminists are not satisfied: despite the growing numbers of women in the art world, female artists’ attempts at recognition have been dramatically less successful than those of their male counterparts.   

Feminist artists have been working since the women’s movement to create some kind of forum for women’s art in a history dominated by “good ol’ boys.”  Yet the political stereotypes which surround feminism have caused some female artists to disassociate themselves with the concept.  More and more women are choosing to delve into a profession where their work will very much remain subdued, and where their individual contributions will likely remain unheralded.  This increase, certainly, is a  hard-fought victory for women; the increase indicates increased awareness and opportunity for women artists.  However, some contemporary female artists argue that feminism’s effort to reach the proprietors of patriarchy has been misguided, leaving it unclear whether women will ever achieve equality.   

The goal for feminist artists all along has been the gender-blind interpretation of art, allowing women equal opportunity for success.  Feminists have long cried for museum curators and art collectors to see more than just “male” or “female” in a work.  However, politics tend to get in the way, and it may be argued that, by clamoring for equality, women have isolated themselves further, making female art a socially-conscious fad rather than a respectable institution.  In Women, Art and Society, Whitney Chadwick elaborates: “Feminist critics remain sensitive to the dangers of confusing tokenism with equal representation” (1990).   Fear of such tokenism, and perhaps too much emphasis placed on inequalities, has made feminism somewhat of a “dirty word” to some artists today.   

The question of “why feminism?” has been presented to a number of female artists who deal with strong constructions of gender in their work.  The answer, overwhelmingly, has been the desire to modify stereotypes about women that have prevailed in male-dominated art history.  In the 1960’s, women who explored “feminist” issues in their art were criticized, causing mass mobilization and conscious raising as to what, exactly, was the purpose of feminist art (Crowell, 1991).  Since that time, women have been trying desperately to overturn the art world and rescind the traditional stereotypes and images that have plagued them.  Feminist artists created somewhat of a unified front during that time, as newsletters, journals, and activist groups formed supporting the women’s cause.   

Perhaps the most famous alert to feminist issues came in the 1970’s, with artist Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party, a work that used several traditionally “feminine” art mediums to teach women’s history.  Chicago’s work represents the ways in which feminists began to explore their oppression through art.  The impact of The Dinner Party was immense in terms of women’s art, but even Chicago has acknowledged that her work is still incomplete in terms of educating society (“The Dinner Party,” 1999).   

Yet despite mediated efforts to integrate women into the patriarchal art world, feminism and feminist artists were often characterized as extremists rather than activists. The words of a few women, who felt angry and slighted, seemed to represent a group whose goal was awareness and social change, not total domination.  In “Feminism, Art, and My Mother Sylvia,” Andrea Dworkin’s words express perfectly the extreme end of early feminism—she wishes to make masculine works “anthropological curiosities,” and “replace the masters of the past” with females of the future.  “I renounce those who hate women, who have contempt for women, who ridicule and demean women,” she writes, “and when I do, I renounce most of the art, masculinist art, ever made” (Dworkin, 1975).  Her example reflects the genuine anger and frustration felt toward male artists, whose work was constantly eclipsing their own by relying on outdated stereotypes.  Activists like Dworkin, however, were preceived as representative of feminism.  On the surface, the shock value of Dworkin’s (and others’) statements may have garnered attention, but ultimately ended up “othering” female artists and creating bad publicity for feminists.   

Today, the efforts of feminist art activists have a far more organized and temperate—although no less impassioned—approach to dealing with masculine influences.  The Guerrilla Girls, an anonymous group of female activists who dub themselves “the conscience of the art world,” use posters and public appearances to influence gallery owners, museum curators, and male artists.  For example: A 1985 poster depicted a dollar bill with one- third marked off, to demonstrate that women artists make one-third as much money as male artists.  “Women have never gained economic equality by just working hard and being good girls,” they say on their website, Guerilla Girls.  “With this website we wanted to make women artists angry as hell and not willing to take it anymore” (“Guerilla Girls,” 1985).  This statement, as well as the work of other feminist groups, is symbolic of a more organized, yet still-angry female artist community.   

Many female artists are concerned, however, with the way today’s feminist movement deals more with gender politics than art.  Chicana artist Monica Mayer says that although the 1990’s seem to be all about political correctness and the recognition of discrepancies in equality, the efforts have been focused incorrectly.  She cites the fact that, although feminists cite Women’s Studies programs as a victory over patriarchy, even those give very little attention to female art. “In spite of the advances that we have seen and the fact that when I speak to younger artists they tell me that everything has changed and that they no longer perceive sexism in our profession as a relevant issue, I still worry about everything we are lacking,” she says in the art journal N. Paradoxa (Mayer, 1999).  Mayer goes on to say that feminism tends to “take one step forward, and twenty-four steps back,” meaning that young women today have been affected by media images and mixed messages as to feminism’s real intentions. Mayer, herself a longtime member of the women’s art movement, illustrates the frustration women artists have felt towards feminism: though they believe it to be effective, they feel as if even a political force like feminism is subject to a patriarchal coloring of issues.  Mayer, like many longtime feminists, is frustrated.  Despite decades of work, she (and others) are not necessarily seeing the results of their struggle—and are questioning whether their course of action so far has been correct.   

The point Mayer is trying to get across may be quite valid, however. Although more women than ever are becoming artists, there seem to be very few advances toward equality.  A 1990 U.S. gender discrimination study found that while about half of visual artists (50.7 percent) are female, and more than half of all degree-holding artists (53 percent) are female, male artists make 68 percent of art income and are the creators of 94 percent of museum acquisitions (Strawter, 1991).  Although no similar studies are available from 1960, it is difficult to believe that the numbers have experienced much change. This obvious discrimination seems to suggest that the battle feminists began fighting in the 1960’s and 1970’s has not led to changing the minds of their oppressors.   

Yet aside from those who support or are upset with the way feminist art has been received, there are also women artists who strive to ignore it altogether. The argument against feminist activism in the art world is that it could lead to even further oppression of female art.  Defeating the “male” that has existed for hundreds of years was never really the goal of most feminists, but representations of feminism have made some feminist critics wary of this stereotype.  In "Reflections on a Feminist Aesthetic," Susan Elizabeth Crowell explores this concern:   

The paradox of feminist aesthetics is that the deconstruction and destruction of masculinist canons compromises, in its critical stance, the agenda of full female economic and political participation in the art world. In the critique of the art world as a masculine institution, feminist critics became increasingly hesitant to join it (the critique) (Crowell, 1991).  
Yet it does not seem that women can succeed by ignoring feminism and its efforts against oppression altogether.  Failing to acknowledge the patriarchy and masculinity which has occupied such presence in the world of art would be a form of approval.  Complete independence from the masculine traditions would surely cause women artists to “deny the possibility of accepting the nature of women’s experiences as a vital part of human culture” (Morse, 1992).  So where, exactly, does feminism fit in the world of women artists? As a constantly adapting guide through the contact zone of art.  In “Feminist Aesthetics and the Spectrum of Gender,” Marcia Morse elaborates:   
Feminist discourse, which is built on such constructions of gender, tends, by consequence, to be defensive or inescapably adversarial, caught in the limitations of either/or…if we can admit the volitional aspects of gender we move toward a sense of the achieved self and, for the artist in particular, a greater appreciation of the way in which vision is empowered, not simply illustrative of but constitutive of a full human identity (1991).
Morse’s solution is thought-provoking, and its overtones draw quick comparison to Mary Louise Pratt’s “Arts of the Contact Zone.”  Morse’s argument asks that we take into consideration the polar-opposite ideas of what is “male” and “female,” and take each piece of artwork in context of the artist’s background (albeit male, female, homosexual, heterosexual, etc.).  She claims that we no longer live in a world that is gender-bound, and will never live in a world that is gender neutral; women’s success in the art world depends on being “gender attentive” (Morse, 1991).  Feminism has been colored by society as being “male-hating,” and has focused a large amount of its work on exclusively “feminine” work.  According to Morse, feminism has a place on the gender- spectrum, but it is not necessarily an all-or-nothing subscription.   

Morse’s view is shared and even practiced by at least one local artist.  Architect and mixed-media painter Karen Bellamy, who attended the University of Arizona during the women’s movement, claims she does not like to focus on feminism in her artwork.  “Being a woman…you stand out, for better or for worse,” Bellamy says.  “It’s always been an advantage to me” (5).  Never too concerned with prejudice and oppression, Bellamy paints for her own satisfaction.  “(Feminism) is a problem all women face,” she says.  “Everybody has to find their own way.  If you are true to yourself, you can get along in what is traditionally a male world without defining yourself as being a feminist or not being a feminist.”  Bellamy’s words, which perfectly illustrate the success of Morse’s argument, do not mean to suggest that feminism has no place in art.  The attention, and the dedication, which has made feminism successful in the past, must be employed differently within the art world, where women still wait in the wings for recognition.   

It is difficult to say whether the political efforts of feminism have been helpful or harmful to women’s continual struggle for equality in the art world.  Feminism seems to have been colored by society’s own interpretation of the women’s movement, causing some contemporary female artists to disassociate themselves from it.  Women artists have a number of forces working against them: namely, that they are attempting to make a living in an unstable career—a career that has been dominated by men for centuries.  Feminism has been successful in publicizing the plight of oppressed women, and its cries have resulted in more women than ever choosing careers in art.  Yet its negative characterization in mainstream American society has somewhat limited its effectiveness and its ability to unify women artists.  The solution lies ultimately in a casting-off of labels, and a recognition that major social change does not take place overnight.  Women artists need to work together with (not against) the patriarchal world that has dominated them.  Only this way can we, as a male and female society, become “gender-attentive,” and view each piece in context with its creator.  This seems to be the only way to overthrow social constructions and allow women truly be taken seriously by gender-blinded museum curators and art collectors—and perhaps finally earning their place among the decidedly male masters of the past.   

References   

Bellamy, Karen.  Personal interview.  22 Mar. 1998.   

Chadwick, Whitney.  Women, Art and Society. New York: Thames and Hudson Inc, 1990.   

Crowell, Susan Elizabeth.  “Reflections on a Feminist Aesthetic.” Studio Potter 20 (1991): 89-98.   

Dworkin, Andrea.  “Feminism, Art, and My Mother Sylvia.”  Social Policy, May/June 1975.   

“Guerrilla Girls.”  [Online]  Available. http://www.guerrillagirls.com, (assessed March 22, 1999).  

Mayer, Monica.  “On Life and Art as a Feminist.” [Online] Avaliable http://web.ukonline.co.uk/n.paradoxa/mayer2.htm,  N. Paradoxa 1.9, 22 Mar. 1999.  

Morse, Marcia. “Feminist Aesthetics and the Spectrum of Gender.”  Philosophy East  and West 42 (1992): 287-296.   

Strawter, Lisa Marie.  Statistic compilation. [Online]  Available.  http://libweb.sonoma.edu/special/waa   http://libweb.sonoma.edu/special/waa, (assessed March 22, 1999).   
  



Tucson artist Karen Bellamy, a graduate of the University of Arizona, chooses to reflect herself, rather than her gender, in her artwork.  Some examples:  
 
Green Sofa.
Watercolor.  14" x 21"
The Yakima Valley.
Watercolor.  14"x 21"
The Sacred Valley,Peru. 
Watercolor.  14" x 21" 
                       
                               
read it again!