Radical elasticity Feminisms at 516 Arts
Feminism. It can be a loaded word. Its meaning can be positive or negative, its nuances shifting based on one’s age, culture, skin color, political or religious affiliation, and even one’s artistic aesthetics. But what would happen if you were to pluralize it? “Then it’s a jumping-off point, not the end. It’s used as a prompt in the broadest sense of the word, as a starting place rather than a definer,” says Suzanne Sbarge, executive director of Albuquerque’s 516 ARTS, where a group show, Feminisms, opens on Saturday, Sept. 26.
Feminisms is a partnership between 516 ARTS and the Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian. Guest- curated by Andrea R. Hanley (Navajo), chief curator at the Wheelwright, the exhibition is part of a national initiative by the Feminist Art Coalition, a grassroots organization dedicated to presenting public programs in the months leading up to the presidential election.
For Hanley, “feminism” means being invested in leadership and using her tribal core values as a means to strengthen her place in her community and the world. “The importance of a feminist voice started really young for me,” she says. “Navajos are matrilineal, so traditionally we’re very strong women. My mother was an activist. When we protested, we protested as family.”
The majority of the work in Feminisms isn’t overtly political. Oil paintings by Dorielle Caimi display classically posed women and girls, many of whom seem suspicious of the viewer’s gaze. Rosemary Meza-DesPlas makes fiber installations out of her own hair. But spend a little time with the art, and the elasticity of the show’s concept becomes clearer. Feminism is just one piece of a much larger story in a system of addressing need — just one thread (or series of threads) within a web of activist movements and human rights efforts. For instance, the California- and Colorado-based collective Desert ArtLAB grew cacti and then collaborated with Albuquerque florist Shawna Shandiin Sunrise (Diné/ Kewa) to create an installation that tethers ecology to community.
“Their work explores dilemmas that reveal themselves in constructed environments,” Hanley says. “They were looking at promoting indigenous foodways, living in dryland environments, and exploring cultural resilience through ecology. They were looking at Indigenous cosmology and how it honors Mother Earth.”
Feminisms features painting, sculpture, video, installation, fiber arts, and mixed media by 13 emerging and mid- career artists from various cultures, most of whom are from the Western United States. Themes include body politics, self-determination, and sovereignty. There are also several virtual public programs offered in conjunction with the exhibition, including artist talks, a poetry reading, and a film festival.
“Women are different and diverse,” Hanley says. “They hold and express power in their communities in different ways. I tried to demonstrate that range of power.”
Here, four Feminisms artists talk about their work in the show and how their practice exemplifies the plurality of the show’s title.
define myself in general. I feel like I’m always working toward my idea of feminism. I don’t call myself much of anything except a clown.
Elisa Harkins Cherokee/ Muscogee
(2019), dance/performance video On the work:
Honor Beats (2019), video; Marie Watt,
The piece takes place at the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa [Oklahoma], which was once owned by Thomas Gilcrease, who was a Muscogee (Creek) citizen. The idea was for my friend, Ivanie [AubinMalo], and I to re-mark the land with our bodies, to honor Thomas Gilcrease. The first part of the video, we’re like pistons moving, like a machine. The second part is Fancy Shawl. The idea is to show two kinds of dance — to show Native bodies engaged in contemporary dance, which is usually thought of [as] for a white audience, then show powwow dancing. I was rethinking virtuosity, like with [experimental American dancer] Yvonne Rainer’s No Manifesto in the 1960s, where she says she rejects virtuosic spectacle. She also rejected identity and narrative, and all these things that I’m very much interested in. Indigenous feminism and intersectionality. I march with and support the causes of the Black Lives Matter movement.
Thais Mather Marie Watt Seneca Nation
(2008), reclaimed wool blankets and thread On the work:
Shoulder Ride
I’m interested in how old blankets are important to my Seneca community, and how we give blankets away for being witness to important life events. Shoulder Ride features an image of my daughter, who was three or four years old at that time, surrounded by women who are important to her and to my family. I was thinking about when you’re a parent and you have a kid on your shoulder, and in a way, my daughter is riding on the shoulders of these women. There’s a picture of my great grandma and a picture of my mother. One of the women is June Carter Cash, because my daughter fell in love with Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash when she first heard them on the radio. There’s a picture of Eleanor Roosevelt, who my mom really liked. On the plurality of feminism: For me, that title says there isn’t just one feminism, and that it’s dynamic and evolving. I often refer to myself as a protofeminist, because I come from a matrilineal community. By the time I understood what feminism was, in college, I don’t know if I found it as noteworthy as I should have, because I felt like I’d been raised around really strong women.