WOMEN MARCHING FORWARD
Keeping the spirit of the Women’s March alive — hats and all
“Pink Progression: Collaborations” uses painting and sculpture, poetry, dance, music and more to keep the spirit of the Women’s March alive.
The 2017 Women’s March was the largest single- day protest in American history. More than 3 million people gathered in cities across the country to express anger over the two- plus centuries of second- class citizenship that women have endured.
It was an insurrection with big demands — pay equity, safety protections, reproductive rights — but bad timing. After all, the event’s main target, newly- elected President Donald Trump, was only in office one day; he wasn’t going anywhere for four years, no matter how loud the chants, or how clever the signs, or how pink the signature hats participants wore.
No doubt, the march had its effects. Among them: Record numbers of women were inspired to run for office, and many won — mayorships, state legislative posts, congressional seats. But it was a movement in need of momentum if it was going to last long enough to oust the man it considered public adversary No. 1.
That is precisely what a group of Colorado artists had in mind when they began making and showing work under the banner of Pink Progression. The idea was to let art — painting and sculpture, poetry, dance, music and more — supply the fuel that would keep the protest engine powered.
Hundreds of creative minds have pulled together over the past four years, issuing publications, staging public readings, choreographing new movement, and setting up major art exhibitions, such as “Pink Progression: Collaborations,” now at the Arvada Center.
“Collaborations” is a sprawling show, filling two floors of gallery space at the massive art center and involving more than 120 artists. Many of Denver’s top creative talents have contributed, though the show avoids the clubbiness that can define the art scene here. Instead, it feels ultrainclusive, crossing barriers of age, race, gender identity and art- field reputation.
The membership of Pink Progression is “fluid,” as chief organizer ( and energizer) Anna Kaye explained. “It’s not like a collective where you have 20 members and they’re rigid.”
“With Pink Progression, it’s open. If there’s an artist in the community who wants to participate, I’ll put them down for the next show.”
That lack of formal structure is reflected in “Collaborations.” In some ways, it feels messy and uneven. Some of the work is well- thought, some looks slapped together. The depth of concepts vary and so does the skill level; it’s not so much curated as it is amassed.
Ultimately, though, there’s pure and perfectly on- mission in the way that plays out in the galleries. Just like the Women’s March, it is large enough to accommodate a wide variety of perspectives and to air a lengthy list of grievances, all rooted in inequality.
The exhibition also goes a long way toward solving the singular problem that hindered the success of the original Women’s March: timing.
“Collaborations” arrives in the second half of 2020, so it coincides with the 100th anniversary of the 19th Amendment to the U. S. Constitution, which awarded women ( white women, of course) the right to vote. That amendment was officially certified on Aug. 26, 1920, making a visit to “Collaborations” a swell way to commemorate that hardwon milestone.
And with a closing date of Nov. 8, the exhibition gets to aim at its mark when it matters.
The show, with its very clear, left- leaning political perspective, remains on display through the upcoming presidential election. Jefferson County, which includes Arvada, went for Hillary Clinton in 2016, but the race was closer than in most Colorado counties, so it’s a battleground.
Whether or not an art exhibition can impact the local electorate in 2020 remains to be seen, however, and this one is hamstrung by the presence of a world- wide coronavirus scare, which will no doubt keep it underattended.
In reality, the pandemic has had a great impact on the show already. Every piece in it is a partnership with two or three or more artists working together on a single object or installation. Collaborators had big plans to meet in studios across the region to conceive and make their creations.
The stay- at- home orders that dominated spring turned into a lot of Zoom meetings, electronic photo exchanges, and sanitized hand- offs of work, back- andforth, as the exhibit was being completed. It’s easy to imagine how much more resolved a lot of objects in this grouping might be if artists had actually been able to get in the same room, connect person- to- person, maybe share a few beers as they argued strategy.
Still, some of the objects reveal a deep process in their making. Working together, Ashley Frazier and Becky Wareing Steele developed a series of small pieces that use eggshells as their starting point. The brown eggs are mostly cracked and turned into little landscapes with the addition of moss, gemstones and tiny human figures.
They’re full of imagination and possibility, all generated from the symbol of female fertility that serves as their soul force. They’re the smallest attractions in the show but speak volumes.
At the other end of the exhibit’s offerings are several large objects that carry their own boisterous messages. Visual artists Martha Russo, Tina Suszynski and Emma Hardy, working with poet Anna Suszynski, constructsomething
ed a larger- than- life cake, set on a giant plate that rises 5 feet off the ground.
It’s a celebratory dessert decorated with pink icing, marking a significant, feminist centennial.
But the way it is constructed, using layers of garments worn by women over the centuries — starting with skirts and dresses and ending with pants — calls to mind the actual people who fought for that accomplishment. The fact that the cherries on top are constructed from the pink hats made famous in the 2017 Women’s March brings the struggle into the present moment.
There are other stand- out pieces, including a clay corset from Tya Alisa Anthony and
Kim Putnam decorated with vintage images of the sort of strong and powerful women — domestic workers, laborers, early protesters — who helped their gender break free from the constraints that corsets signify. Another: a wall- mounted, mixedmedia collage by street artists Moe Gram and Grow Love that uses a swirl of female nudes and a mass of plastic toys and flowers to explore female resilience.
“Collaborations” has other star teams, and a list seems appropriate: Belgin Yucelen, Anne Waldman and Akin Koksal; Virginia Maitland, Melanie Walker and George Peters; Theresa Anderson, Alicia Ordal and Kim Shively; Tsehai Johnson and Leslie D. Boyd; Margaret Kasahara and Jina Brenneman; Ana Maria Hernando and Amie Knox; Tsehai Johnson and Leslie D. Boyd. There are more.
Not surprisingly, though, the exhibit’s best asset comes from the sheer number of participants, and so no single effort registers greater than the whole. It wouldn’t have succeeded unless it was big.
The same can be said of the landmark event that serves as its inspiration. In a democracy, the only thing that really matters are the numbers, how many people get involved or take to the streets, how much money people give to fund campaigns and, more than those things, how many people vote.
The 2017 Women’s March got that right — and so does this show.