a 7 a a 6 0 0n ont & Dolities This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms HERESIES is an idea-oriented journal devoted to the examination of art and politics from a feminist perspective. We believe that what is commonly called art can have a political impact, and that in the making of art and of all cultural artifacts our identities as women play a distinct role. We hope that HERESIES will stimulate dialogue around radical political and aesthetic theory, encourage the writing of the history of femina sapiens, and generate new creative energies among women. It will be a place where diversity can be articulated. We are committed to the broadening of the definition and function of art. HERESIES is structured as a collective of feminists, some of whom are also socialists, marxists, lesbian feminists or anarchists; our fields include painting, sculpture, writing, anthropology, literature, performance, art history, architecture and filmmaking. While the themes of the individual issues will be determined by the collective, each issue will have a different editorial staff made up of contributors as well as members of the collective. Each issue will take a different visual form, chosen by the group responsible. HERESIES will try to be accountable to and in touch with the international feminist community. An open evaluation meeting will be held after the appearance of each issue. Themes will be announced well in advance in order to collect material from many sources. (See inside of back cover for list of projected issues.) Possibly satellite pamphlets and broadsides will be produced continuing the discussion of each central theme. As women, we are aware that historically the connections between our lives, our arts and our ideas have been suppressed. Once these connections are clarified they can function as a means to dissolve the alienation between artist and audience, and to understand the relationship between art and politics, work and workers. As a step toward a demystification of art, we reject the standard relationship of criticism to art within the present system, which has often become the relationship of advertiser to product. We will not advertise a new set of genius-products just because they are made by women. We are not committed to any particular style or aesthetic, nor to the competitive mentality that pervades the art world. Our view of feminism is one of process and change, and we feel that in the process of this dialogue we can foster a change in the meaning of art. THE COLLECTIVE: Ida Applebroog, Patsy Beckert, Joan Braderman, Mary Beth Edelson, Su Friedrich, Janet Froelich, Harmony Hammond, Sue Heinemann, Elizabeth Hess, Joyce Kozloff, Arlene Ladden, Lucy Lippard, Marty Pottenger, Miriam Schapiro, Amy Sillman, Joan Snyder, Elke Solomon, Pat Steir, May Stevens, Susana Torre, Elizabeth Weatherford, Sally Webster, Nina Yankowitz. This issue of HERESIES was edited and produced by three groups which met separately and together for more than four months: a nine-woman editorial collective, which takes final responsibility for the magazine; an eight-woman adjunct group which worked on general ideas, research and specific articles; and a five-woman design/production group. Still other women helped with additional aspects, such as copyediting, proofreading and mechanicals, and the larger HERESIES Collective supported us all. Because of the number of women involved and the number of manuscripts received (more than twice as many as were submitted to our first issue), the process was complex. Editorial work was new to most of us, and we needed a lot of time to listen to each other, to reflect on our disparate experiences and viewpoints—and to develop an overview of the magazine, which finally affected our decisions almost as much as individual submissions. We worked collectively on each piece, arriving at a consensus only after much discussion. Sometimes we frustrated those authors and artists who had hoped to hear more from us sooner. As we worked, we found that we were indeed involved in a process of communication with all the women who wanted to participate in this issue, as well as with each other. If this process was at times confusing, it was also intensely satisfying. As this issue went into production, Ree Morton, an artist whose friendship, work and commitment to feminism made her close to many of us, died of injuries sustained in an automobile accident. We will miss her. Editorial group: Patsy Beckert, Lizzie Borden, Janet Froelich, Denise Green, Sue Heinemann, Diane Levin, Lucy Lippard, Pat Steir, Elizabeth Weatherford. And: Ida Applebroog, Karen Harris, Stephanie Brody Lederman, Karen Shaw, Theodora Skipitares, Amy Snider, Carla Tardi, Mimi Weisbord. Design/production group: Barbara Coleman, Paula Greif, Suzanne Kuffler, Francesca de Majo. Our thanks to those who helped get out this issue: Barbara Baracks, Marina Cappalletto, Nicole Croiset, Tony DeLuna, Debbie Dominguez, Birgit Flos, Maria Friedrich, Su Friedrich, Paula Harper, Laurie Leifer, Diana Long, Mary Lou Lopez, Melissa Meyer, Margot Norton, Lawrence Pitkethly, Bernie Rohret, Sarah Schuman, u Sillman, inkeri. Jackie Wray, Nil Yalter, Ruth Young; our lawyer, Eleanor Fox; and our photographers, eeva- HERESIES: A Feminist Publication on Art and Politics is published in January, May, September and December by Heresies Collective, Inc. at the Fine Arts Building, 105 Hudson Street, New York, N.Y. 10013. Subscription rates: $10 for four issues; $16 for institutions. Outside the U.S. add $2 postage. Single copy: $3. Address all correspondence to HERESIES, P.O. Box 766, Canal Street Station, New York, N.Y. 10013. HERESIES, ISSN 0146-3411. Vol. revert to authors. 1, No. 2, May 1977. © 1977 Heresies Collective. All rights reserved. On publication, all rights This issue of HERESIES was typeset by Myrna Zimmerman in Palatino, with headlines set by Talbot Typographics, Inc. Also thanks to Daniel Shapiro. Printed by the Capital City Press, Montpelier, Vermont. This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Leifer. Instead of writing individual statements, the editorial group has chosen to present photographs of the private spaces n Laurie we K This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Woman has always been associated with the dark, with the unknown. It has been in society’s interest to consider women unknowable; that has been one of the devices to keep us from power. Separated then from the “light” of the dominant society, we women have perpetuated a culture of our own, expressed in our own forms, which has frequently been transmitted, as is the I wish to create here a form appropriate to the subject of case with other oppressed cultures, in subtle, uncodified ways. woman's culture which reflects those attitudes and values integral Not taught in schools, it is communicated in the home, through to that culture. I think of this article as a conversation rather than kinship lines, laterally through sisters, grandmothers, friends. Influenced and affected by the dominant cultures within or against which it must exist, this culture nevertheless seems to incorporate certain universal elements which may in part be due to the fact that women everywhere are socialized into similar roles and oppressions. Ironically, despite our universal oppression, women a monologue and have tried to create spaces that elicit response. Rather than embody material, information, illustration in footnotes that indicate a secondary status or a formal acknowledgment of authority, I prefer to provide complementary space for the other voices which inform this article. A form that more honestly acknowledges the informal and constant exchange of ideas. I see these pages as places reserved for other women writers seem to have survived as the guardians of certain human values and artists to participate as partners. I invite the reader to use necessary to the survival of humanity. At the same time, these them to respond, think, make notes and add to what I have writ- values undermine the anti-human thrust of contemporary indus- ten according to her own insights and imagination. trial and technological life. In bourgeois society, this contradiction is solved through the relegation of women to the home, and our isolation from public life, which prevents those values from entering the public sphere. Similarly, these contributions are fur- “And so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often ther devalued through their association with women and they than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of consequently lose their power to influence the direction of the the flower they themselves never hoped to see: or like a sealed dominant culture. Certain survival values then persist in isolation letter they could not plainly read.” (Alice Walker, “In Search of within the circumscribed female domain. Our Mothers’ Gardens,” Ms. Magazine, May 1974.) Woman's culture is the complex expression of a woman’s sensibility, the interaction of knowledge, values, rituals, organizations and attitudes resulting from the interaction of role, biology, historical conditions and memory. It has developed forms which Deena Metzger deny aggression, competition, rank and power—essentially nonhierarchical, intimate and cooperative forms. The tone with which women address each other when we are alone, calling each other immediately by our first names, the conversations women have with other women are, in themselves, models of the entire culture. Woman's conversation is a particular form of communi- So we begin again here to negotiate a form as if this were a conversation between us which contained references to other conversations, to our work, to those asides wherein we discover how we come to know this, reminding each other of previous discus- cation in which seemingly simple interchanges, as well as sophis- sions, those stolen moments in the kitchen, carpooling, when we ticated theoretical and analytical discussions, incorporate a com- meet in the supermarket, in the offices, the TV stations, the lec- plex of other activities. When women speak to each other, the ture rooms, those moments when we emphasize an idea by ex- sentence functions both to communicate information and to es- tending our hands to each other, the pressure of fingers on the tablish intimate connection between women. Woman’s conversa- upper arm, speaking a sentence of verbs, nouns, prepositions, tion is often confined to intuition, accompanied by non-verbal affection, solidarity and acknowledgment. This does not come interaction, touch, eye contact, which enhance the intensity of the interchange. from me alone; I learned it from you; we have been passing it through our minds and bodies and conversations for years now. Virginia gave it word-flesh when she asked us to create the woman's sentence. Well, we have made it, we are making it. The woman's sentence, the woman's paragraph, the woman's build- Women tend, when possible, to search for the common de- ing, the woman's design, the woman's portrait. ..forms as com- nominator, for the area of common and meaningful experience. plex as their forms, but our forms, different forms, responsive to Women so often talk about “women’s things” because they are our own values, experiences, priorities. Each one of us knows one more interested in the feeling of community than in an abstract form. I will tell one, you another, then Barbara, Jane, Sheila, all interchange, and what are commonly deprecated as “women’s things” are in fact those events of daily life common to everyone's experience. For example, when we introduce ourselves to each the women I know. “Give an example,” Martha says. “Okay, Martha. Thank you.” Your urging helped me to come to this form which is our form, a conversation not a disser- other, we tend to avoid professional definitions, offering general tation. Between sentences, I am listening for your comments, statements about our lives, some bit of information which can incorporating them, answering them, and listening for them once create an intimate experience. Particularly since consciousness more. That listening, asking, incorporating, is characteristic of raising, we introduce ourselves in terms of personal struggle, us, we who are attentive. But now we bring that form into the openly communicating the current internal dilemma or problem: public domain as one of the new ways. “I've just divorced” or “I'm trying to get my life together.” Women are willing to reveal the raw materials in order to explore together. Women’s conversations may have a more “unfinished” quality because we begin at the unknown rather than the known. If men’s conversations reveal, women’s conversations explore. This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Women tend to focus on the person being spoken to. What do you want to know? What do you need from me? Women do not commonly tell each other jokes or puns, preferring more responsive forms. “You know how it is” invites identification and laughter, often bitter. The tendency of some women to raise rath“Since childhood, women have always been bricoleurs, er than lower their voices at the end of sentences does not imply creating structures by means of events,’ making-do, constructing uncertainty so much as invitation, willingness to negotiate and whole lives out of leftovers, devising entire, though miniature desire for response and interaction. worlds out of their peripheral status and tasks. Such worlds rivaled the male spheres in complexity, interest and involvement. They were worlds made of smaller and homelier materials but built in proportion, involving the entire range of social processes, as full-bodied as the external, male-dominated realm. In her own miniature world, the woman was in charge, using time and energy according to her own lights. Within the structured points One of the basic functions of women’s conversations is nurturance. When women talk to each other, we simultaneously take care of each other, provide comfort, communicate information and verify a common reality through the discovery of basic common experience. It is not enough to find “common interests” but to discover those that are essential to, not oblique to, existence. of her day in the household, she did a great many highly diverse The anxiety aroused because women talk about the essentials al- tasks, all at the same time, always expecting to be interrupted, lows for our conversation to be characterized as gossip, trivial, never expecting full closure, bustling from one activity to the materialistic. Women, in fact, talk about others, about children, next, watching her work come undone as soon as completed.” clothes, cooking, the “stuff of life,” because these are the univer- (Barbara G. Myerhoff, from an unpublished paper “The Older sals, the common essential ingredients of existence. Woman as Androgyne: Sexual Stereotypes and Innovations.”) Women who wish to participate in the public sphere as women rather than to conform to male standards as a condition of both entry and survival need to examine our own forms and their sources in order to integrate these forms into public institutions and behaviors. How does one communicate this information? The language appropriate to formal presentation is heavy and abstract. Each idea is confined within a noun and those are arranged in order. One says “immediate,” “integrated,” “continuous,” “collective,” “personal”... But when we speak about it together, we create another tone and style... When Sheila is invited to enter a design competition on the subject of color, she asks women friends and associates of various ages, including young girls, to respond to the color pink on small squares. These are organized into a grid in which no piece is more important than another. The poster permits women to respond to a color which has been socially devaluated. Pink is assigned to women; baby pink, thrust upon us during infancy, remains our color through old age. Its associations are with infantilism, indulgence, frivolity. How, then, can we claim it? Yet the responses on the pink cards indicate strength, assurance, energy. They contradict the preconceptions. When the piece is finished, the color has SCRATCH PINK Y AND T BLEEDS heeri URAIa ES t new associations representing a wide range of responses. The individual statements become a collective self-portrait, a self-examination, facilitating the reevaluation of pink and of ourselves. The poster is responsive. It is a non-hierarchical structure. It is a communal effort. It evokes a variety of responses. It is complex. It provides for reevaluation. It makes a feminist statement in form as well as in content. Why do I begin with Sheila? Because we came to this at the same time although quite independently. Sheila was the organizer of the first Feminist Design Program at Cal Arts. She is also one of the organizers of the Feminist Studio Workshop and of the Woman's Building. She was teaching design and I was teaching literature. We were both pursuing our private design and writing. Looking at women’s work from historical and critical perspectives, we discovered that it exhibited basic affinities despite historical and national barriers. This work does not yield easily to analysis with ordinary critical tools, as it departs from the dominant modes, goals and value systems. As we attempted to weave an appropriate feminist critical perspective, we realized that woman's work corresponds to a particular organization of * Revised and excerpted from the manuscript of an unpublished book, In Her Image: Woman's Culture, 1976. time and space and to a frequent reference to the immediate and the everyday. This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Perhaps we should pause here, creating an interruption corresponding to the interruptions that women expect and incorporate into our own work, the spaces that permit permeation and invite response. We are not concerned here with the transfer of information so much as a simulation of the experience in which we come to know things; we are concerned with the context of information, how it comes from us and from our lives. No matter Interruption is a basic condition of a mother’s life. One of the how abstract, no matter how formal, women’s work is connected reasons for the segregation of the work world from the home is in at one point at least to the fundamental realities, to our bodies, to order to avoid the interruptions of the daily life. In the home, one our everydays, to our dreams. When our work is our work, it is always also of ourselves. is constantly interrupted by need and continuous time is not available. Home is not the place where one can establish a hierarchy of priorities. It may be more “important” to write an address to the United Nations, but the crying baby takes precedence nevertheless. Women know that life has the terrible habit of asserting itself. The woman writing her doctoral thesis, the judge presiding at a trial, is also, simultaneously, thinking about the broccoli for dinner, the child's dentist appointment, the death of a friend. Women’s art forms reflect the condition of interruption and simultaneity in a variety of ways. Scars on the Body Politic, a novel I completed in 1975, is It is said that woman is nature and man is culture..….….It is true that woman, for a variety of reasons, is more sensitive to natural forces, cycles, rhythms, as role and biology always thrust her into the immediate and domestic existence. If this sensitivity is expressed in behaviors that are responsive rather than closed, it actually interrupted several times by actual events, equivalents of the “crying child.” They imposed “non-negotiable demands” upon the material; they had to be heeded and incorporated in the framework of the book. In one section I actually say, “This is the place where the book was interrupted.” Similarly, women’s works often have an unfinished quality is mistaken to assume that response is negative or imposed. Re- — are anti-art art pieces, more faithful to the reality correspond- sponse requires openness, willingness, action, and like withdraw- ing to the idea that only art, not life, can ever be finished. A jour- al, implies choice. It has been woman's habit to create structures and behaviors that are both systematic and responsive. Women create culture as men do, but not having created a dominant culture, we act pri- nal, for example, which women are coming to recognize as a work in itself, and not the source for the work, is often a collec- tion of thoughts, fragments, ideas, perceptions, descriptions, dreams, conversations, jotted down at odd moments, in sentences vately within forms that remain largely invisible to the public or codes, according to time and mood. In a class taught on “Autobiography, Journals and Life Histories,” the students wrote scrutiny although they are sufficiently forceful and intense to be more fluently when they were freed from the tyranny of the com- communicated laterally and historically. When we hear the words “immediate” and “everyday,” we associate them with values ascribed to the woman's sector. They are the mundane, unimportant, banal, and we feel the anxiety plete sentence. Given permission to write in fragments and notes, they could record their lives in a way they felt was more appropriate to their experience. The women more than the men responded to the more open form. which Western civilization terms “imprisonment in the here and now.” “Imprisonment” itself refers to forms of closure that threaten male separateness and disengagement, such as possessiveness, enchantment, the vagina dentata. Similarly, “flux” stimulates cultural anxieties associated with chaos, death, unpredictability, sexuality, male anxieties regarding mortality, against which are opposed principles of permanence, eternity and transcendence. The male-dominated movie screen informs us that modern “life” is a series of boring episodes which can only be interrupted by violent explosions. But the ordinary, from a woman’s view, is hardly ordinary. It is repetitive, it is full of trivia, it is necessary, maddening, contingent, it is never-ending, but it is also, as in Papilla Estelar, wonder-full or awe-full. And women’s art reflects this power of the immediate. Gertrude, for example, predicates a style upon the immediate or the “continuous present,” as she calls it, “using everything and beginning again.” And beginning again. A cycle of repetition, of rhythm, everything told so completely and so simply that existence emerges as a fact and language becomes “an entire space always moving not something moving through a space.” Men are associated with behaviors that strive toward permanence as opposed to continuousness. That men legislate and women gossip may be a reflection of men’s interest in autonomous social control as opposed to personal interaction. An organized and ordered society emerges. Facts of nature become anomalies, violations. Economic cycles, plagues, age, rain, children, sun, disease, menstruation, fatigue, fiesta, are all disturbances of the perfect unchanging order, inconveniences rather than essential conditions, factors to be mitigated or eliminated. This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Woman is more sensitive to flux, cycle, to the transitory as the basis of experience. Change is part of her daily life while permanence, fixity are eccentric events. The cycle is a concept which coordinates repetition and change. Completeness has a satisfying resonance and is a reasonable female goal. Intensity rather than eternity. That work and art which reflect these female concerns do Integration is a significant characteristic of woman's work. Many parts tend to be represented in a single work. Into the daily life come the essential realities of existence, biology and death. The universal weds the specific; the ordinary and extraordinary dance; the wonderful refuses to be separated from the mundane. Remedios Varo captures this integration in Papilla Estelar (1958). The painting shows a woman dressed in black, seated in a not always look like “work” because they are organized differently is another reflection of the simplifying tendencies of the dominant culture. Sheila observes: “The organization of material in fragments, multiple peaks rather than single climactic moment, has a quality and rhythm which may parallel woman’s ontological experience, poor, cramped and barren house set within the heavens. She is particularly her experience of time. .….There are several genres of grinding the stars through a kitchen meat grinder and feeding this women’s work, quilts and blankets, for example, which are as- stellar mixture to a domesticated moon confined within a bird semblages of fragments generated whenever there is time, which cage. The eternal and the contingent, the metaphysical and the are in their method of creation as well as in their aesthetic form, mundane coexist. This is one of several paintings by Remedios visually organized into many centers. The quilting bee, as well as Varo that capture the forms of woman's culture. It is ironic that Remedios is categorized by art critics as a surrealist. Extraordinary as her vision may appear to the dominant culture, it is for us the quilt itself, is an example of an essentially non-hierarchal organization.” simply the complex accurate image of a female world view. Not exactly the lady one associates with quilting bees and other domestic tasks, the monumental Gertrude Stein nevertheless knit from one soldier's hospital bed to another during World War I, providing cheer, socks and letter-writing services. In this behavior we can see the patterns which she also translated into literary form. “You see,” she says, “I tried to convey the idea of each part of a composition being as important as the whole. .….After all, to me one human being is as important as another being, and you might say that the landscape has the same values, a blade of grass has the same value as a tree.” An assemblage of fragments free of hierarchy. “Certainly,” Sheila continues, “the quality of time in a woman's life, particularly if she is not involved in the career thrust toward fame and fortune, is distinct from the quality of time experienced by men and women who are caught up in the progress of a career. The linearity of time is foreign to the actual structure of a day as well as to the rhythm of women’s monthly biological time..….The assemblage of fragments, the organization of forms in a complex matrix, projects this experience of time, suggests depth and intensity as an alternative to progress.” Our different organization of time and space requires that we react differently to phenomena. We do not know things in isolation or in a continuum so much as we know everything at once. The cycle is the long whole moment. (The implications of a different thought process ought to be considered seriously by psychologists and educators.) To know everything at once requires that we utilize every sense. “Woman’sintuition,” then, is the direct result of holding oneself completely open to the entire experience in its immediacy and completeness. Intuition is simply knowing at the moment and Remedios Varo. Papilla Estelar. 1958. Oil on masonite. 92” x 62”. Collection Sr. Lic. Eduardo Villaseñor. knowing entirely with one’s intellect, memory, body, emotions; it is knowing caringly, evoking information and ordering it through the personal context. Intuition is simply testament to a context; it is knowledge which exists in a complete relationship. To the extent that men isolate experience in order to know, they separate it from themselves in the belief that emotion contaminates information. The subjective, the personal, the immediate, the evocative are seen as screens preventing the analytical mind from knowing things in themselves, out of flux, out of the conditional. But much of what we know, we know exactly in the condition, in the daily life, the actual, the flux, the contingent and with emotion... This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms “The materials I use in my work are found objects, discards and natural objects. . .shells, feathers, etc. I merely recycle them. A particular object may suggest a piece. Maybe a feeling about a color or certain image or symbol will conjure a piece..….…. “I may work on several pieces at once, going from one to another, selecting, rejecting objects, images, symbols, as if in a trance. But it works. The fragments fit, the message is revealed and again the magic happens. Dat Ol’ Black Magic!” Bettye Saar, in Art: A Woman's Sensibility, California Institute of the Arts, 1975.) “. .. what might have gone on last night while four women taled about a quilt: how it grows rather than being planned. aletheia's hair piled on her head—the hair works loose through the evening—one long strand of it falls on her neck. they see it grow longer and longer until it's the longest strand of hair in the world. it reaches the floor, then through the house, out of the back door, around the neighborhood —playing with children, talking hopefully to old people and censes—moving on, still attaches to aletheia’s head. the hair . and the quilt as the time that moves in front of us. streets and stores and traffic lights and the strangers that repeat every day, always and never the same.” (Holly Prado, Feasts, Momentum Press, Los Angeles, 1976.) The quilt has come to be symbolic because it is an assemblage of odd bits, organized in a non-hierarchical order, and because the quilting bee itself, the circle of women, remains to us as a form of non-hierarchical collective labor. “In the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. there hangs a quilt unlike any other in the world. In fanciful, inspired, and yet simple and identifiable figures, it portrays the story of the Crucifixion. It is considered rare, beyond price. Though it follows no known pattern of quilt-making, and though it is made of bits and pieces of worthless rags, it is obviously the work of a person of imagination and deep spiritual feeling. Below this quilt I saw a note that says it was made by ʻan anonymous Black woman in Alabama, a hundred years ago. “If we could locate this anonymous’ Black woman from Alabama, she would turn out to be one of our grandmothers —an artist who left her mark in the only materials she could afford, Anonymous. Crazy quilt. 1900-10. Lancaster, Pa. area. Wool and flannel. 78” x 73”. Private collection. (America Hurrah and in the only medium her position in society allowed her to Antiques.) Magazine, May 1974.) use.” (Alice Walker, “In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens,” Ms. This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms The leaderless group, the circular form, the non-hierarchical As I read these words, I want to tell you everything I know structure are perhaps the most socially significant contributions at once and everything in at least three voices. Just as our days of the women’s movement. are layered (I used to say “laminated” but Barbara said that was Classrooms, organizing meetings, work sessions are physically organized to diminish the distance between individuals. In contrast to seating arrangements in the male-dominated society, where desks, stages, lecterns, daises both separate and indicate too rigid, too hard, so I suggested “days like strudel” and she agreed), so our experiences are strudeled and we want to bite into them at once. The cyclical form results in a literature and art that is dense, rank and authority, physical position does not create hierarchical structure. Women tend to sit close to each other in formations consisting of many coexisting layers. It creates a book that is which allow for the mingling of work, play, intellectual activity, neither journal nor novel, but what Kate Millett refers to as a new emotional nurturance. form of literature, the experiential book. The new critical stand- In this meeting of the Feminist Studio Workshop, one cannot ard in literature seems to de-emphasize plot, aesthetic beauty and distinguish the leaders from the participants, professors from stu- form for a concern with the depth and intensity of the reality dents. Likewise, there is mingling of ages, both children and older presented. Once the relationship between plot and form is seen, people are present. A number of activities are occurring simultaneously.... the arbitrary nature of plot is revealed. Plot, after all, is a pattern, familiar and reproducible, which can be repeated, albeit with variation, in novel after novel. Plot may be convenient for the writer, but it does not necessarily correspond to the way things are. Plot demands abstraction, elimination, selection, editing. It is a diminution of experience according to literary preconceptions. It removes the novel from the buzz. As Doris Lessing asks in The Golden Notebook, “Why a story at all . . . why not simply the truth?” Consciousness-raising group. 1973. (Lila Pearce.) The daily and essential realities are the focus of women’s The first extant autobiography was written in English by a woman. The Book of Margery Kempe is the first extant woman's book. Today it seems that all of us are keeping journals, recording our own lives passionately. We use these forms for documentation and disclosure. The last few years have shown an undressing of woman's experience which seems in inverse proportion to the intensity of the taboo against woman's nakedness. We are lives and work. “Do I repeat myself? Well, then, I repeat myself.” The statement is Whitman's. Perhaps it is not ironic that Whitman is a poet of power whose masculinity is always questioned. Is it because of his repetitions that we recognize the female sensibility, or is it because he never forgot how close grass ought to be to the skin? Life and work—how did they become separated, is becoming more and more naked. And then we peel away the perhaps a more sensible question than why we are so intent on skin. Relentlessly naked. It is difficult to look. But we persist. integrating them. Sometimes the images are so strong we look away. The vulval Even the popular media are occasionally sensitive to the nar- ecstasy of Monique Wittig's Les Guérillères has that character, row focus on work which is characteristic of the male dominant or the overwhelming honesty of Kate Millett’s Flying, or the society and which is always puzzling to women. It is the male fecund kitchen dissections of Sylvia Plath and Gilah Hirsch, or the psychological exploration in the art of Frida Kahlo which is unprecedented in self-portraiture. In The Two Fridas she is her- who creates industries, commercial centers, educational institutions that exclude children and other life forces from their boundaries. And it is women who have demanded that the doors be self one of the fates, holding the scissors which sever the lifeline — her own artery. The portrait examines the complexity, duality opened, to day-care centers, older children, the elderly, to green- and contradiction of the personality. ery and the humanities of home. Each day is a tapestry, threads of broccoli, promotion, couches, children, politics, shopping, building, planting, thinking interweave in intimate connection with the insistent cycles of birth, existence and death. Women are aware of their bodies very early and very completely although this awareness has not been shared until now. Menstruation, lactation, pregnancy, menopause are long-term conditions of physical reorganization. When the blood comes at thirteen, we are always astonished even if we are well prepared. My mother slapped my face in the Jewish tradition “to bring the blood to my cheeks” and to punctuate the moment. The menstrual cycle is a repeated cycle of astonishments, physical disturbance and enlightenment forming a bond of intimacy between women that we are irritable at such times, but now we also need to admit that this is the time it seems to us we see most clearly. Perhaps this clarity comes from the regular cyclical connection with life and death symbolized by blood. Life is both prepared for and Frida Kahlo. Las Dos Fridas. 1939. Oil on wood. 67" x 57". shed every month. Is this the reason why women do not make war? This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms 4:56 UTC The body, as one’s own, and as a woman's body, is the first force that prevents women from becoming distracted by abstract intellectual behaviors, providing the immediate and intense private experience which simultaneously connects us with others. This dynamic is evident in the journal and the autobiography, which are particularly female forms. Personal revelation is one foundation of feminism and the new women’s consciousness. The journal, as significant as consciousness raising, is a serious activity which cannot be pursued at proscribed times. Recently I conducted a class in Secrets at Chino State Prison for Women. While it was relatively easy to deal with some of the consequences Of search, seizure, scrutiny by wardens and guards, it was more difficult to evaluate the risk of revelation to one’s fellow prisoners. It was relatively easy to understand that the prison authorities were simply the active instruments of social oppression and that acts of solidarity and revelation between Judy Chicago. What is this secret place inside me that has held a women inevitably undermined the oppressive forces. However, it tear so long? 1974. China paint on porcelain. 6” x 6”. was more difficult to gauge the trust that was possible between women living under these conditions, whose lives were often regulated through the subtle manipulation of one woman against another. How much could they reveal to each other? How carefully would they honor each other’s secrets? As an act of faith, I first read a “secret” from my novel. Skin: Shadows From SILENCE : A Love Letter in the Form of the Novel, West Coast Poetry Review, Reno, Nevada, 1976. It is afternoon. You've heard this story before. This is the story I will tell twice and then again. It does not empty easily. This story has left a scar and the scar needs to be cut out. This story will be told again. =. It is afternoon. I am alone. In an office. It is afternoon. I am alone. In an office. It is afternoon. I am alone. There is a knock at the door. Or the sound of the door opening in the outer office. Or a knock and the sound of a door open- Then each woman wrote a “secret” to another woman in the room, with whom she could but was not obliged to share her ing in the outer office this afternoon. I am alone. Thinking of things one thinks when one is alone in the afternoon. Almost a daydream. Allowed to think. Why should I be startled by a knock at my door or the sound of another door opening. Why writing. One woman decided to share her secret with the entire should I hear the door or even interrupt my thoughts which are so group, confiding in us that this was the first time she had revealed pleasant this quiet afternoon. All the work is done. the event to anyone, despite three years of psychoanalysis. This was perhaps the first moment of social trust she had experienced. The secret, read in a trembling voice, was an agonized memory of sadistic and sexual cruelty perpetrated upon her, pregnant at fifteen, by someone she trusted and loved. Reading her own words, she now knew that she had not been responsible for provoking this incident. Fifteen years of guilt laid aside. Yet, listening to her Why bother to turn my head when I hear the floor creak? My thoughts are so pleasant, nothing can interrupt them. This is my time to muse. A rare afternoon alone. All the work is done. Probably it is not a knock at the door that I hear and do not respond to. Probably it is the sound of a door opening quietly and of soft footprints across the floor. Or maybe it is the sound of a knock, a tentative tap to see if I am in. But it is a quiet afternoon and all the work is done and I am in to no one but myself, so I do revelation in the hushed silence of the prison classroom, I won- not answer the door. Probably there is no sound. It is not that I dered if the support and love which allowed her to speak these refuse to be interrupted but that my dreams are so intense that I words were temporary. Would she be betrayed later? And how? In any form, the guilt and pain had been a worm far more ravenous and lethal than any revelation could be now. Nevertheless, I hoped she would not pay the penalty that is often exacted by such nakedness. hear nothing, not the initial knock on the outer door, (if indeed there was a knock — probably there was no knock) nor the sound of the lock turning, nor the cautious feet across the floor, nor the cautious turning of the lock to my inner office and the stealthy opening of the door, nor the hand raised against me. Nothing. It is afternoon and I hear nothing, suspect nothing, till the gun is pressed against my head and the hand muzzles my mouth. “Say nothing,” he whispers. It is a gun which is against my head. There is a man holding it. I cannot see him. But I do not think I know him. He ties an unclean and wrinkled handkerchief across my mouth. I close my eyes because I am afraid to know him. Simultaneously I keep them open in order to see this man. But I think I can see nothing. “Take your clothes off,” he says. Everything he says is in a strained and I assume disguised voice. Perhaps he is someone I know. Which is more awful—an anonymous assault by a stranger or by a friend? This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms My hands are shaking and he is laughing. I am struggling to obey. My feet are shaking also. I can only see his feet. I have told you before about his scuffed black shoes which look like those with steel linings in the toes. They are laced with frayed black laces. His socks are white. Dirty white. His feet are wide. I suspect his legs are hairy and that the hairs are damp. It is afternoon. A quiet afternoon. No one is about. No one is knocking at the door. “Take off your clothes,” he says. My body is shaking. The dress peels from me like skin, a heap of feathers disordered, plucked live from the skin, a mound of fresh leather in a corner. And the animal is still alive! And the deer stretches denuded flanks, twitching. I can see the blood run across the hooves. I am naked. He is wearing clothes. I do not wish to see his Honor Moore's Mourning Pictures, an eloquent play about the death of the playwright’s mother, closed after its first day on Broadway because, according to Clive Barnes, it did not transcend the experience of personal loss. Women are choosing to achieve “universality” through the exposure and identification of legs hairy at the ankle bone. I cannot bear to see his clothes the personal moment rather than through its transcendence. The against my skin. I am naked. He is fully clothed. most powerful lines in the play are also the simplest: “Ladies and I remember nothing. I will remember nothing. I tell you this Gentlemen, my mother is dying.” without hearing my own voice. I tell you this again and again so I will never remember it. I remember how naked I am next to his clothed legs in order to forget everything. Handprints on my back. Indelible markings. In later mirrors it seems my back grows away from his hands. An announcement in reversal. In recoil. Women are the Fourth World say the women of North Vietnam. We read each other's autobiographies as if they were our own lives. Nakedness is an ambivalent state implying weakness and power simultaneously. The naked person is an image of helplessness and yet nudity is terrifying to the observer. There has An invasion. A tree opening to fire. And a black hollow been much critical distaste expressed for the confessional mode of from which no twig can emerge again. Perhaps it is a gun pene- woman's art, which has been considered blatant, vulnerable, self- trating me and orgasm will be a round of bullets. Pain is a relief. I pitying, raw, untransformed. Not often admitted is the puritani- cherish it as a distraction from knowing. I am an enemy country. cal base for the anxiety felt before work which, as an editor told Destroy me with fire. But there is no distraction. The cloth rubs against my legs. There is a gun resting on my shoulder. I do not me about my own, is produced by “unrelieved personal disclosure.” forget that death is the voyeur at this encounter. Turning. Turning. The flesh of the spitted deer crackles against the fire. I want to reach for a knife to carve myself into morsels, to divide into portions, to carve a slit downwards from my navel to my spine. There is a circle of steel against my ear. I have told this before. It is afternoon, a quiet afternoon, and the taste of my own meat smeared on unknown flesh is in my mouth. I choke upon it. It is afternoon. I do not know what is thrust in my mouth. What banquet is this? What severed leg? What joint? What goat, deer, bone? I wish blood were dripping down my throat now. How long can I hold his sperm in my mouth without swallowing? It is afternoon. I have told you this before. It is a quiet after- This common interest in our history and experience is not only the response to historic anonymity, it is not merely a first step toward liberation, but the revitalization and making public of an honored female form which integrates the private and the public worlds, the individual and the collective sensibilities. noon. I do not hear the sound of someone knocking at my door. I try to say, “Come in.” I would like someone to help me from the floor. I need a pillow under my head. Wrap me in a blanket. Turn the lights out. It is early evening. It is night. It is tomorrow. I would like someone to help me up from the floor. I cannot say, “Come in.” to the knock on the door. I cannot yell for help. I need to be wrapped in a blanket. I need a pillow under my head. And a nightdress. And a cover of white cloth. Everything is quiet. My body is numb. I feel nothing. My body is dumb. It is early evening. : There is a knock on the door. I cannot hear the knock at the door. I cannot say, “Come in.” I need... There is a knock at the door. I cannot say...I... There is a knock...Icannot...I... I can not... “I am not completely satisfied,” Martha Lifson says, “by the autobiographies of Gertrude Stein as they emphasize the public world and the people she meets. I prefer the diaries of Dorothy Wordsworth where the work and the ideas, commentary and portraits are braided through the gardening, reading, cooking and conversation. I am interested in the entire life and the whole day.” Intense revelation, but not confession. Because we are so accustomed to confining intimacy to the private sector, the form disconcerts us when it is present in the public world. Women break down the wooden house and the anonymity and objectivity of the psychiatric privacy. We do not wish to speak alone. We demand that the listener be a participant. We tell our secrets openly and publicly without erasing them. We say, “These are our lives.” We insist on telling these secrets to each other because we know it makes a difference. That is intimacy—the insistence upon response and equality. We want our talk to make a difference to ourselves and to others. We create open forms so that someone can answer us. This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms It is important to realize that for women the process of per- sonal confession implies collective revelation. This is the recurring experience of journal classes, women’s writing groups and consciousness raising. One of the projects of the Feminist Design Program at California Institute of the Arts, directed by Sheila de Bretteville, was a series of videotapes about menstruation. The groups consisted of older women, young women, teenagers and mixed groups of boys and girls exchanging information, personal experience. This was one of the first attempts to eliminate the body of misinforma- tion, prejudice, fear, and often self-hate which arises from the combination of silence and social anxiety. The anxiety is easily detected in the language which surrounds menstruation: “the What word can we interject to convey our meaning of tan- curse,” “falling off the roof,” “on the rag,” “unwell,” etc. gible and certain? In lieu of concrete can we say braided, be Menstruation has indeed been a “red flag” (to borrow the fabric, be cloth? title of Judy Chicago's well-known lithograph) for those who “All mother goddesses spin and weave. In their concealed accepted the taboo regarding the discussion of menstruation or workshops they weave veins, fibers and nerve strands into the the use of female imagery in art. This visual confrontation with miraculous substance of the live body. Everything that is comes the female reality is part of women’s contemporary insistence out of them: they weave the world tapestry out of genesis and upon being naked, breaking the silence that has surrounded us and particularly our bodies. Looking at female biology is one part demise, threads appearing and disappearing rhythmically.” of telling the story of our lives and breaking the mystery that is a I wonder how to credit Helen Diner for the above quote. patriarchal prison, helping to create the mythos, the mystique of Everything in me rebels against the learned footnote which does woman. not provide a space for the essential information—the thrill of Often revelation has political consequences beyond con- recognition which occurs when it is read. In graduate school I sciousness, as did the public acknowledgment by hundreds of vowed to avoid all the Latin forms, the op. cits., loc. cits., ibids., French women that they had had abortions, in order to achieve which represented distant authority. But now it is possible to use liberalization of abortion laws. Other times the revelation breaks footnotes again and even to peruse them eagerly before one reads a taboo or allows others to claim and understand their own the papers they are included in. Women’s footnotes are of another experiences which have often been deadened by seeming unique form. They are not authoritarian, they do not necessarily refer to Or eccentric. texts, to abstract tomes, to objective external sources. Often emotional statements or conversational asides, they serve to enrich the material by bringing in the strands, the choruses, the associations. They are informal, spontaneous interjections permeating more formal, carefully constructed works. There are times when I do not know at all which ideas were mine, which Barbara's, Jane's, Sheila's. The ideas pass back and forth between us, and our shared experience and communication is their real source. The ivory tower shatters as an image for those of us who cannot and will not segregate our creativity, finding it as often as not in the kitchen as in the study. Footnotes no longer function only to identify a single authority, but can also challenge the concept in order to.acknowledge and record collective efforts. Donna Henes, Web. 1976. Mount Royal, Montreal. “When a woman artist positively identifies herself to us through her work, she commits a courageous and daring act of self-exposure, because her contribution has neither spoken to nor been understood by the mainstream of the culture, and the content of her art has been bypassed by interpretations which could reveal it. Thus a woman's saying, ‘I am, I know myself, and I feel a fundamental optimism —a grasp upon my own survival as a model for human survival,’ is saying something which challenges the prevailing worldview. If consciousness is the content of feminist art, this level of human responsibility and hope is the content of consciousness.” (Arlene Raven, feminist art historian, one of the organizers of the Feminist Studio Workshop and the Woman's Building.) 10 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Performance is a natural form of expression for women whose history has been limited primarily to oral forms. Performance like conversation is flexible, often without script, responsive, and invites participation. It is not meant primarily for publication or to have a long run, but is often conceived for a particular moment. Like gossip, performance can be seen as a form of social regulation which depends upon intimacy and associatiorı with the subject. Like journals, performances allow for the collective and public scrutiny.of women’s past and.contemporary roles in order to create attitudinal and behavioral change. Performances therefore often have a personal as well as a social, didactic function. Performance is also a way of modeling, providing not only a critique of the past but alternatives for the future. Now that the journal is becoming a public document, and we are revėaled in each other's books, the journal also may be a new benign and creative moral imperative. The woman's form is connective. It is a tapestry or a quilt, a weaving or collage, an interlacing of all the diverse parts which are obsessively differentiated in the dominant culture. For women to come into the public world we must be cognizant of our historic and contemporary forms of organization and expression in order to survive. At the least we must struggle like Penelope, weaving half the day, unraveling half the night. Within woman's culture, because of its plurality and tolerance, man can exist; within man’s culture woman is destroyed by individualism and abstraction. Woman is an, appropriate word for Man. She is an appropriate substitute for He/She because he is contained in she—orthographically, physiologically, but more significantly, ontologically. One culture encloses within; the other segregates out. Despite the frequent critical stance that female imagery, woman's art, female sensibility is a limitation imposed upon culture, a narrowing Of vision, it should by now be abundantly clear that woman's culture, being primarily integrative rather than analytical, offers as rich and deep a universe as that which has been the basis of “civilization” until now. To define a woman’s culture is not to delimit or to create orthodoxy, but rather to expand current cultural horizons and to provide the opportunity to explore experience in new areas through the validation of hitherto unrecognized and devalued expression. Woman's culture is not a set of rules or restrictions, rather it is a direction, an eye, a broad intellectual framework for discovering form and meaning. In its underground forms it is available to a few women and fewer men; named and public it is available to everyone. Now when we come into the world, it is in our image—as Eve—the image of integration and relationship. In that act woman challenges the dominant world culture. Deena Metzger is a feminist writer, poet and lecturer who is direc- tor of the Writing Program at the Feminist Studio Workshop at the Woman’s Building in Los Angeles. She is the author of a novel, SEa (West Coast Poetry Review, 1976) and a radio play, The Book of Hags. 11 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms INSIDE/OUT: SUE HEINEMANN it's more than that. — Simone Forti, Handbook in Motion I remember my first class with Elaine Summers, a New York Summer 1975. I went to California to participate in Anna dancer whose teaching focuses on kinesthetic awareness. As I lay Halprin’s dance workshop. Anna explains: quiet on the ground, eyes closed, Elaine led me on a journey In our approach to theatre and dance, art grows through my body. Can you feel your toenails? Your metatarsals? directly out of our lives. Whatever emotional, physical, Knees, thighs, on up through eyebrows and hair. Amazing how or mental barriers ... we carry around within us in our much of my body I couldn't feel —no sensation. As if parts of me personal lives will be the same barriers that inhibit our had just disappeared. No calves, no armpits, no eyelashes. And I full creative expression..... I work with the notion wonder how many of us really sense our bodies as integrated with that emotional blocks are tied into our physical body our selves. Do we only acknowledge the body when “it” hurts, and mental images...….. when something's “wrong”? In how many ways have we learned When a person has reached an impasse we know to disown our bodies? something in their life and in their art is not working. I think of how we tend to enthrone our minds, all-knowing. What is not working is their old dance. The old dance is The body as a tool, only necessary to get work done. Or the body made up of imprints imbedded in the muscles and as an object, to be looked at, admired, displayed. The body nerves that is reflected in behavior patterns manifested in the way that person participates, interrelates and remains an accessory, not integral to our definition of being. Just performs their life and their art.” to speak of body sensations, of how emotions are felt located specifically in the body arouses skepticism. And I wonder if it is Each morning we performed “movement ritual,” a series of even possible to convey what “listening” to your body means to exercises through which we listened to our bodies, “hearing” how someone who has not experienced it. The difference between we felt. According to Anna, “Daily movement ritual is a way of knowing something intellectually and understanding it through becoming aware of self, of your body and all the spaces and areas your feeling in your body. of your body, what you feel like and where your mind is.” One 12 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms morning at the end of movement ritual, Anna told us just to let doing cartwheels, moving freely, naturally. The girl's mother our bodies move themselves, without imposing any preset pat- called her over to walk beside mother and grandmother. The little girl’s body stiffened, her “activity” constricted, as she readily terns, without interfering with notions of what might look “graceful.” I lay there, not thinking about how to move. I felt my assumed the pose of “woman” in imitation of her mother and legs gently pull apart, opening up my genitals, and my pelvis grandmother. Three generations —a legacy ot how to behave as tilted under, slowly lifting my torso upward and back down. The woman. The little girl sits demure, hands on her lap, ankles experience was both real and unreal, as if my body were literally crossed —do not fidget. All those messages. And how do they make me feel as a woman? talking to me, telling me how I felt. I watched, observing how my My body as a woman. I return to Anna Halprin's workshop. body wanted to unfold, to open out, my pelvis widening, my chest expanding. I got scared. And I retreated, my body closing After three weeks of working together, the women and men sepa- in, curling up tighter and tighter. My “dance” spoke to me about rated to find out how we experienced ourselves as groups, women my female sexuality in a way my head had never allowed. interacting with women, men with men. The women began with a rap session. Tentative, sensing each other, a preliminary. My body as a woman. A biological given. Each month I go through the menstrual cycle. I sense the changes inside my body, Anna then led us through a “movement preparation,” to take the shifts in mood. My lower back tenses in anticipation, as if to us inside ourselves. While doing the exercise, we were to visualize inhibit the flow, to deny my natural female functioning. Is that a our “life histories as women,” to become aware of our woman- learned behavior? Clara Thompson, a well-known analyst, hood. We worked in pairs, focusing inward by concentrating on wrote: “Because menstruation is obvious and uncontestable evi- our breathing. I sat on my partner Sara's chest, pressing against dence of femaleness, many neurotic attitudes become attached to her shoulders as she exhaled, letting go as she inhaled. Then, in it; many painful menstrual periods are not due to organic diffi- another exercise, I gently pushed down on Sara's stomach as she culties at all but to protests against being female.”^ The secrecy of breathed out. When she inhaled, I raised her up, my hands grip- menstruation, not to be mentioned, not accepted. If I let my ping behind her, opening out her chest .….…. pulling her toward me lower spine and pelvis move slowly, unrestricted, as they want to as I lay back on the ground ready to exhale. Repeat, reversing move, I can allow the flow to happen. Without the cramps of roles in seesaw alternation. Release, letting go — expansion, tak- protest. ing in. A natural rhythmic cycle at the center of my being. And yet how hard it is not to try to control this vital process, not to Menstruation — a sense of inner rhythm, an obvious connection between my body and my being. And I wonder if the visi- interfere. Letting go, giving up freely, “passive”; taking in, open- bility of this connection, month after month, makes it easier for ing up fully, “active” — the simple process of breathing acquires women to get in touch with their feelings through their bodies. connotations. Do I resist exhaling, stopping short, afraid of being Margaret Mead notes: “It may be that the fact that women’s “passive”? bodies are prepared for a so much lengthier participation in the creation of a human being may make females — even those who bear no children — more prone to take their own bodies as the theater of action.” *° I think about Erik Erikson’s article “Womanhood and Inner Space,” and the controversy it raised.’ Believing that play represents the child's experience of her/his own body, Erikson found that the differing spatial configurations of play scenes constructed by children reflected the girls’ preoccupation with inner space (womb) and the boys’ with outer space (penis). In a recent replication of Erikson’s study, Phebe Cramer concludes, “In other words, the exciting events of a boy's life are exterior — and here I would say exterior to his own body ... Girls, on the other hand, focus on the interior. Excitement occurs within...” I read this as a positive assertion. My body is constructed differently from a man's. The sense of inner space —not a void, empty, waiting to be filled, but a possibility, in touch with growth, alive, whole. My body as a woman. Have I learned to hold my body in a particular way because I am a woman? How does my stance conform to and reinforce how I am supposed to feel as a woman? In Elaine Summer's class I was working with my shoulders. The exercise: to stretch my arm out from the shoulder joint as far as it wanted to go, then release it slowly back to center. Repeating this, turning my arm, rotating my shoulder first in, then out. Afterward my shoulders relaxed, heavy, weighted on the floor. Yet when I stood up, I felt vulnerable, my chest, my breasts exposed. Confusing instructions ran round my head—to be a woman is weak, you must not be weak, you must not show you are a woman. And I observed my shoulders rise in tension to protect me. A friend told me that once, while working with her shoulders, she reexperienced her teenage embarrassment at being flatchested. She remembered intentionally caving in her chest so no one would notice her “deficiency.” Expectations of how to be a woman. Elaine mentioned watching a little girl running around, 13 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Often, doing the movement work, one associates in images. Each of us drew the images evoked by the exercises, and we showed our drawings to each other, relating how these images reflected our experiences of ourselves, our experiences as women. Dana had depicted a child-woman standing small before an enormous closed door, surrounded by empty space. No mother to greet her. Alone. On her own. Alice had drawn a little girl seated in a yoga position with her arms held tightly against her body. She explained that at 31 she felt “too young” to have children, that she herself was just a child. Alice looked at her breasts in disbelief; she couldn't be grown up. My own drawing showed an interior space — delicately pasteled, tenuous lines flowing into and around each other. Scribbled flames of orange-red anger surrounded the inner sanctum, threatening to penetrate, to overwhelm it. And all of this was rigidly encased in thick black lines . . .contained. Some of the women danced out their visualizations. The process of drawing our responses to the original activity and then possibilities of movement, new ways of being. Each woman per- using these drawings as a score for another dance encouraged a formed for the others, sharing her own discovery of the beauty of dialogue with our experiences. Melinda had sketched an incident her body, of her self. A celebration. from her childhood: while trying to prove her strength by climb- In contrast, we spent the afternoon dealing with aggressive ing a tree, she had fallen in front of her father and sister (her sister energies, with what Anna called “self-hate.” We worked again in turned away from her in disgust). She asked us to call out con- pairs. Alice lay down, hands beneath her head, elbows on the flicting instructions — for her to be a “lady” or a “tomboy.” At ground. As she tried to lift her elbows up to bring them together, one point someone yelled, “You won't have any boyfriends.” I offered resistance by pressing down on them — not so much that Melinda lashed out at this voice and burst into tears. She closed she couldn't perform the movement, just enough to make it a her dance by convincingly repeating Anna's words, “I can cry struggle. While striving to raise her elbows, each woman was to and still be strong.” let out a sound as a way of releasing energy and vocalizing her Marlo's dance was last. Her drawing was covered with emotional response. A welter of groans, screeching into shrieks, words: “you can't get out,” “push me.” Like Alice, she explained often climaxing in tears. she felt “too young.” In response, we formed a birth canal, offer- Again we drew our experiences and danced them out. My ing resistance as Marlo tried to crawl between our legs. Several image was a mountain, closed off in dense blackness, impenetra- times she stopped, frustrated, and we taunted her gently, urging ble, with a tiny figure struggling desperately all alone to the top. her on. Finally Marlo reached Anna, who was waiting quietly at A pretense of strength. The barrier from my earlier drawing ...1 the other end. But Meg, the last woman in the canal, still held am afraid to cry, afraid to show “weakness.” I keep telling myself onto Marlo’s legs. When the two separated, Meg curled into a I can make it, I can make it, I don't need anyone. So I grit my fetal position. The group gave birth to twins. Humming softly, teeth, holding my feelings in, and lift my elbows... To perform we became a chorus cradling the two women. Marlo rocked, this score, I asked several women to hold me down so that I nestled quiet in Anna's arms. Meg, in contrast, needed to laugh so couldn't get up. How real this “game” became. Despite the resistance, I was stubbornly determined to stand up. I couldn't that she could cry. And those of us surrounding the two women were no longer simply performers enacting a score. We were par- (wouldn't) let any sound out, let anyone know how I was feeling. ticipants involved in a drama —not fiction but real. Each of us The others’ taunts hurt me — “how constipated she is,” “you don't was Meg and Marlo, woman finding her self, woman reborn. want to take up our time,” etc., etc. —but the hurt remained Woman secure in the presence of other women. bottled up inside. Sure, I might have simply told the others to stop at any time, but (psychologically) I couldn't. And I reflect on The following day our movement preparation focused on how certain feelings correlate with specific body positions, how Anna's insistence that dance is a direct expression of one's life. emotional responses are locked into particular body attitudes. We That the same emotional blocks that restrict our everyday func- sank slowly, vertebra by vertebra, from a standing position, curl- tioning also limit our movement. ing tightly into a ball, then opening out, spread on the ground. As I have people clearly looking at their old dance, con- we continued to shift from open to closed positions, we were told fronting it and accepting what it is and by dancing it, to imagine a man in our lives looking at our bodies and to note experiencing that it is not working. Once this has hap- how we felt about his gaze. I saw first my father, then my friend pened, all that vital energy locked up in the old dance is rechanneled as energy and motivation to be used in Bob watching me. Again the feeling of exposure as my chest and pelvis expanded wide. As if by opening, I were to give up my self. creating a new one. My arms reached to hug my knees to my chest. No, I would not After two days of separation, the women and men came back together. Each group presented its experience to the other. show them my body, my femaleness. The women chose to perform in a redwood grove. First we Finally we spiraled on the ground, one leg rotating across the sketched out a collective score, each of us offering suggestions as body, reaching forward, the corresponding arm rotating out, reaching back. We explored this movement, making it more and the plan took shape. The atmosphere of our setting was compe!- more sensuous, twisting slowly, luxuriously, until we were danc- ling ..…. the silence, the needle floor muffling every footstep. We ing our love for our female bodies, accepting our sexuality. Turn- decided to make that silence the core of our dance — no words, no ing the torso, tentative at first, reaching down to caress an ankle, sound. Other elements impressed us. We noted the trees towering a calf. Flowing from one movement to the next, exploring the upright, the light softly filtering through, the sacredness, the fullness of the chest, the length of the neck, opening up to new timelessness of the place. We wanted to merge with this environ- 14 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms ment without invading it, to recognize and respect its power as felt among the women was our shared strength, each of us rein- part of ourselves. And we wanted to convey what the two days of forcing the other — not so much through isolated echoes, as in the being together had meant to us, how our experience as a group men’s dance, more in harmony. We were less insistent on an indi- had strengthened us as individuals. vidualistic integrity. The men seemed afraid of each other, afraid We began our performance separated, each woman dancing to let their bodies mingle, afraid to touch. An aggregate of domi- her self in relation to the surroundings. I snuggled myself inside a nant notes rather than a true chorus. (Some people have thought tree stump, needing enclosure within the vastness around me. I that the difference I sensed was because I was an observer of the couldn't see the others. Yet I felt their presence, I felt joined in men and a participant with the women. I don't think so. In later experience to them. And I became more confident; I rose to meet discussions, the men admitted how difficult it had been for them the trees, standing straight and tall. My hands reached out to to come together as a group, how hard it had been to relate physi- clasp Alice's. We walked toward each other, slowly, silently, cally, to get close to each other.) deliberately. Other women too began to approach each other, Differences in communication patterns. In Marge Piercy’s linking hand to hand. Soon we formed a chain, and we wended novel Small Changes, Wanda is showing the members of her our way, step by step, downhill. At one moment we paused. theatre group the different ways men and women occupy space. Sylvia stood alone, below us, sunlit on the dust-covered road. She chooses for illustration how people sit in public places. “Men She just stood there .….…. silent, still, the only movement the rising expanded into available space. They sprawled, or they sat with and falling of her chest as she breathed in and out. That was her spread legs.. .. Women condensed.... Women sat protectively dance. And her dance spoke to all of our experiences. A sense of using elbows not to dominate space, not to mark territory, but to protect their soft tissues.”” And I wonder again about the ways women have been taught to hold their bodies. It's almost two years since I became aware of my body. And I'm still learning. Finding my center. Me. A woman. 1. Ann Halprin, “Community Art as Life Process,” The Drama Review (Sept. 1973), p. 66. 2. Quoted in: Fraňtisek Déak and Norma Jean [Déak], “Ann Halprin’s Theatre and Therapy Workshop,” The Drama Review (March, 1976), Sl. 3. n Halprin, “Life/art workshop processes,” in Taking Part by Lawrence Halprin and Jim Burns (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1974), p. 174. 4. Clara M. Thompson, On Women (New York: New American Library, 1964), p. 25. 5. Margaret Mead, “On Freud’s View of Female Psychology,” in Women & Analysis, ed. Jean Strouse (New York: Dell, 1974), p. 127. 6. Originally published in 1968, reprinted with a reply to criticisms in Women & Analysis. 7. Phebe Cramer, “The Development of Play and Fantasy in Boys and Girls,” in Psychoanalysis and Contemporary Science, Vol. 4 (New York: inner strength, not assertive, just present. An inner rhythm, in tune with, part of the world around. An openness both expand- International Universities Press, 1975), p. S61. ing, filling the space, and taking in, absorbing the space. One. 8. Anna Halprin, quoted in Déak, p. 51. The men’s dance was totally different. I find myself resorting 9. Marge Piercy, Small Changes (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1973), to clichés. The men performed in a cove at the bottom of a sharp . 438. : Nancy Henley, Body Politics (New York: Prentice-Hall, 1977). 11. Martha Davis, “Nonverbal Dimensions of Sex and Status Differences” cliff, where the sea battled the rocks. The women watched from above. Each man stood isolated on his own rock. Each was cos- (presented at American Anthropological Association Meetings, Nov. tumed according to his self-image. Arthur posed erect, legs firmly 1976). astride, a warrior, face painted, high above on the tallest rock. Lower down, on another rock, Jamie writhed, moaning and Research into sex-role differences in movement patterns is still shrieking, shaking his seaweed hair. Each man did a specific limited. Nancy Henley’s new book, Body Politics: Sex, Power movement which the others then imitated. A male “chorus.” Each and Nonverbal Communication,” provides a much-needed com- note sounded, then echoed back in differing tones as each man pilation and review of the research on male-female differences, adapted the movement to his own body. The shouts, the power and what this means in terms of status. Just the title implies the flung amidst the waves pounding rocks. The aggressiveness, the “maleness” struck me. importance of body language in regard to social “position.” In another study, Martha Davis, a clinical psychologist, points out that a number of aspects of non-verbal communication have both One by one, the men disappeared around a corner. Arthur jerked his rattle in a frenzied dance, Jamie plunged into the icy sex-role and status significance—“frequently confirming the ex- water to swim away. We could only hear the triumphant cries of pectation of lower status associated with female, higher status the tribe gathering. Then they reappeared, to enact a healing with male.”!! Davis concludes her paper with a description of the ritual. How different from the women’s ceremony with Meg and pictures of man and woman sent into outer space on the Pioneer Marlo. The men danced around each other, they seemed to avoid 10 spaceship: “The man stands upright, wide, ready to go into touching each other. Their gestures were bound; less gentle, less action. The woman stands with her weight shifted to one side, direct than ours had been; their mutual support less overt. And one knee slightly bent and inward, her attitude more passive, a then they invited us down to the rocks to be healed. To be healed role difference apparently considered important enough to propel beyond our solar system.” by the men? Was this really a meeting, equal to equal? I still wonder that so many women went down. The atmos- My thanks to Jacqueline Morrison who took all the photos at Anna’s work- phere created by the men’s dance was alien, alien to me as a shop. woman. To go down was to enter a territory already staked out Sue Heinemann is an artist, critic and sometimes dancer living in New on their terms. Again the stereotypes. And yet ... What I had York. 15 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms As a therapist I have seen feminists and non-feminists in treatment. The women I of the healthy adult, although feminists critical of others, while they downgraded are outside the culturally defined “norm” their own perceptions and feelings, as if refer to as non-feminists did not initially for female behavior. they doubted their validity. Their emo- My observations are based on a study mention women’s rights, nor did they tional responses tended to be limited to claim participation of any kind in the of 60 women—32 non-feminists and 28 the expression of sadness, desolation, Women’s Liberation Movement. When feminists, ranging in age from 18 to 45, pain, very frequently accompanied by we later discussed this issue, their reac- from varied racial and educational back- crying. tions ranged from indifference, to sym- grounds, including single, divorced and pathy for some (usually less radical) as- married women in both groups. The femi- The non-feminist often responded to pects of the movement, to open hostility. nist group was younger on the average, questions by repeating observations Passive self-references predominated. the oldest woman being 35. My descrip- others had made of her behavior, her ferred to themselves as such and explicitly tions of the behaviors encountered are needs or the purposes of her acts. The supported various aspects of the women’s based on the first two or three interviews absence of an active self-referent was so In contrast, the women I call feminists re- movement. All of them believed that with these women, although my hypothe- striking, that I began to pay attention to women as a group are oppressed, handi- ses are based on longer observation peri- how often and in which context the per- capped or otherwise impeded in their full ods during which I intervened as a thera- sonal pronoun “I” was used. Comments development by external forces, whether pist. like “it feels better,” “my mother says,” social institutions, cultural mores or The non-feminists sought psychiatric “friends don’t like me to” or “my husband men. While they varied in the degree of help for complaints ranging from vague, gets irritated at me if” were frequent. My their actual participation in the move- chronic feelings of dissatisfaction, aliena- impression was that of a woman accus- tion or depression to marital conflicts, in- tomed to relying on others’ understanding sciousness-raising groups. Most of them ability to be creative, inhibitions in sexual or reactions to her and unable or unwill- chose to see me primarily because I am a functioning, phobias or problems with ing to attempt a more active and self- woman, being fairly convinced that a their children. All of these women, with- woman would view their concerns with out exception, presented their problems as acteristic of defining the self via others more understanding, that she would be signs of personal inadequacy. Frequently, was found among the non-feminists re- less biased than a man, or simply that they were baffled by their discontent, gardless of their education, intelligence, they could talk more freely with a fe- simultaneously pointing out all the ad- age, race and marital status. It was even male. vantages of their daily lives. As one of the ment, all of them had experience in con- directed search for definition. This char- present in those “active” women who patients put it, “I have a kind husband, demonstrated competence, at home or at tween these two groups in their views of three healthy children, no financial prob- work, in areas requiring a certain level of their problems, their behavior in our ses- lems, freedom to study and I'm not happy I have been struck by the differences be- decisiveness and organization. sions, and their relation to the therapist. — what's wrong with me?” This last ques- In contrast, the feminist patients’ com- And perhaps even more important, I have tion was implicit in the statements of most plaints were largely related to a set of al- found that feminists appear to have re- of the non-feminists who expressed their ready established ideas or goals. They solved successfully developmental stages malaise in terms of symptoms, had no were dissatisfied at finding remnants of that non-feminists have avoided. Let me coherent way to explain them, and saw old behaviors that contradicted their pres- briefly explain. Since feminists seek these symptoms as something in them- ent goals, at their self-defeat in attempting changes in others as well as in themselves, selves that needed correction or change. A to defy the old order, at the failure of their they develop more interpersonal skills few stated their wish for understanding, behaviors to elicit the desired good feeling and an ever-increasing sense of self. They but on further inquiry it became clear that about themselves, at their excessive sensi- are less afraid of their aggressive impulses for them “understanding” was something tivity to criticism or conflicts originating —in particular, anger. They question the that would automatically “dissolve” their in their attempts to alter their hetero- requests and expectations of others. Femi- discomfort. Others who wished to know sexual behavior and relationships. Some nists do not dislike their sex and have dis- themselves saw a successful outcome as of the most militant were attempting to covered bonds with other women. They contingent on their ability to correct introduce changes in traditional organiza- have achieved separation from important “whatever I am doing wrong.” others, whether parents, husbands or chil- If one couples these statements with the tions or institutions, or worked in predominantly masculine occupations and dren. They have asserted their autonomy behavior of the non-feminist patients in were faced with tremendous pressure to by defining, protecting and defending the office, one finds a remarkable congru- conform to mores at variance with their their own needs, establishing their own ence: these women were not assertive, own. Their discouragement and distress goals and directions, with increasing trust they behaved in a compliant and submis- at the frequently negative responses they in their own perceptions, judgment and sive manner, and they never questioned encountered led them to reexamine their experience. All of these are characteristics the examiner. They found it hard to be goals and their behavior in order to find a 16 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms compromise that would permit them to they react with open anger. When ques- continue their own development or inter- tioned about their feelings, they seemed to them, the freedom to express anger ver- est at less cost to the self. If they had have great difficulty voicing their anger, bally and the ability to channel some of it particularly toward those upon whom into groups or personal goals (fighting periods of low self-esteem, sexual inhibi- they were dependent financially or other- school boards, the political system, legis- tions or guilt feelings, it was not the wise; more often than not, their quick lation or simply husbands and bosses), symptoms they focused on but the be- acknowledgment of anger was followed plus the sense of inner rightness about haviors, interactions and conflicts that in by guilt, self-incrimination and doubts their claims, clearly differentiated them their opinion resulted in those symptoms. about their femininity. These women ap- from the non-feminists. These women appeared to have already peared to dread becoming the stereotype Anger was sanctioned and indeed en- “symptoms” such as anxiety, depression, ganizing and even paralyzing effect on made a fairly exhaustive analysis of the of the “bitchy,” “castrating” or otherwise couraged in groups in which these femin- cause-effect relations between their be- aggressively destructive female. Anger ists found validation and support for their haviors and experiences and the symp- toward men, in particular intimate male perception of what made them angry. toms they generated. They were explicit partners, was frequently subdued, Although they had been or still were about their goals and aware of both intra- avoided or quickly turned into “aware- fighting the image of the “castrating” fe- psychic and interpersonal conflicts. ness” of their own “demandingness” or male, they believed that this specter had unreasonable dissatisfaction. The listener been raised to dissuade them from open- of external sources of pain and confusion, was, however, simultaneously briefed ness about their dislikes, or from con- for which they did not feel responsible, about these men’s demanding attitude, fronting people with their contradictions seemed to help them make more and more their insensitivity, exploitation and other and put-downs. “C-R groups” gave them discriminating judgments between their blatantly hostile behaviors, as if the pa- an additional chance to contradict such problems and those of others. Their con- tient needed outward sanction of these stereotypes, for these groups provided a scious and purposeful engagement in feelings by having the therapist voice great deal of nurturance and mutual altering the social context in which they them first. In this regard, the feminists’ awareness support. lived or the persons to whom they related Anger was more freely expressed did not hinder their examination of their toward other women. The non-feminists between the two groups was found. The own motives, needs or inadequacies. This tended to see other women as shallow, feminists were able to feel a bond of In this regard, an important difference capacity was largely responsible for these empty-headed, jealous and untrust- loyalty and a common source of concern feminists’ positive attitude toward their worthy. Aside from one or two “excep- with all women—an important develop- “problems.” For although they saw them- tional” female friends, these women seem- mental stage for females. Their newly selves as not quite equal to their expecta- ed to believe that women (themselves found “sisterhood” —based on attempting tions, they also saw their attempts as a included) were justifiable targets of con- honest friendship, support without mor- desire to grow, to become more capable, tempt, tending toward envy, selfishness alistic judgment, openness and trust, and more self-reliant and more flexible. and manipulativeness. They thus found on the sharing of deep feelings and experi- themselves isolated from other women ences—was of extraordinary import in Awareness of their inadequacy to reach desired goals did not lead these feminists and considered their company uninterest- their ability to channel, utilize and toler- to question their sanity or their intrinsic ing and unsatisfactory. While they did not ate angry and destructive feelings. Al- “neuroticism.” Since for the most part voice such feeling in relation to me, when though aware that most women would they believed that the traditional labels questioned they did state that they were part company with them on sticky issues, “ill” or “neurotic” had been incorrectly concerned about having a female thera- attached to the victims of oppression pist or that I might be one of the “excep- them and were sympathetic to the plight whenever they gave signs of their pain, tions” they could trust. On further ex- of women in general. They explained their whole view of “treatment” and the ploration, it became clear that they had other women’s hostilities as the result of psychiatrist's role in it was very different mixed feelings. They felt freer speaking to from that of the non-feminists. The femi- a woman, but this was partly due to their tion to see women as enemies, their com- nists were more selective in their choice of low esteem for women. They clearly felt petitive strivings around men and the therapist, more critical of his/her views, that the important judges of their worth utterly dependent state of most women. their fear of awareness, their indoctrina- The non-feminists were isolated from more knowledgeable of and attentive to and attractiveness were men and that it therapists’ tactics or ideologies that mattered much less whether a woman this realm of female experience, having smacked of disguised oppression. While found them satisfactory. My status as a had perhaps a few close women friends, the feminist patients sought alleviation of psychiatrist did, however, tip the scales to but neither knowing nor believing in their pain and discomfort, they rejected the other side. Their tendency to respect women’s capacity to help one another and symptomatic treatments. Drugs and my role as an “expert” and to trust my biological treatments were suspect as re- opinion somewhat uncritically was in line usually able to communicate their deepest pressive tools. Their active, inquisitive with their tendency to respect “authority” worries only to the psychiatrist or minis- and critical attitude toward the therapist (particularly malelike authority) and their ter, they had no way of realizing how contrasted with the pliable, unassuming, compliance with it. common their concerns were to those of dependent stance the non-feminists took The feminists, on the other hand, dis- to join in creative action. Being alone, and other women, or of discovering their own played a greater capacity for critical judg- potential capacity to understand, help The non-feminists often portrayed the ment—of the therapist as well as of their and decide about their own lives. The behavior of others in a way that left the cultural milieu—which was in direct rela- feminist women had already tested this listener with no doubt that the behavior tion to their tolerance of and ability to ground in “rap groups” where they had was destructive, hostile or decidedly un- voice angry feelings. Although at times validated their own perceptions, gained just. Yet they voiced no criticism, nor did the intensity of their anger had a disor- confidence in their own experiences, in the beginning of therapy. 17 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms achieved a new sense of self-enhancement viduation and making discriminating crit- others. Independence and autonomy are and the ability to assert the self (yet not at ical judgment possible. The freedom to achieved by struggling against confining tolerate anger, to voice it and to channel expectations at variance with those of the the expense of others). Although the feminists felt alienated from much of conven- it into meaningful activity is a prerequisite tional society and had to bear consider- for further change. The pervasive inhibi- able stress, they were not alienated from tion of aggressive impulses in non-femin- their own sex, and they believed that not ists drains them of energy; those impulses knowing who they were or what they tend to be directed against the self, result- wanted was more insidiously destructive ing in self-depreciation, depression and by far than a rude awakening. feelings of worthlessness. This state of My underlying contention is that feminists have advanced further on the devel- affairs prevents moves toward selfassertion since these moves are perceived as threatening the precarious balance of opmental ladder and are at a psychologi- dependency on others. In contrast, fem- cal advantage compared to non-feminists. inists' attitude of defiance is an affirma- self. This posture of feminists forces active interaction with others and opens the way for individuation and self-control. It seems important to conduct a further study of feminists and non-feminists who do not seek treatment. The findings discussed here are relevant only to those women who have actively sought help. Teresa Bernardez-Bonesatti is a feminist psychiatrist whose special research interest is wom- en and mental health. She is an associate pro- of aggressive impulse plays in regain- tive stance that provides the ability to fessor of psychiatry at the College of Human Medicine, Michigan State University, and chair- ing self-esteem, achieving separation-indi- weather disapproval and criticism from person of their Affirmative Action Committee. I regard as crucial the role the liberation teachers or students at schools and museums where I came as a visiting lecturer, or where there was an exhibition of my work. Often as I talked about my work, explaining my idea of “connection” to them, I asked for a “souvenir” handkerchief, a bit of lace, an apron, a tea towel — some object from their past which they would be willing to have “recycled” in my paintings. I saw this as a way to preserve the history of embroidered, often anonymous works which are our “connection” to women’s past. I have used the pieces women sent me in these collage-paintings. — MIRIAM SCHAPIRO Miriam Schapiro lives in New York City, is a painter and member of Heresies Collective. She will be teaching at the Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia in the spring of 1978. 18 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms . BODY, SPACE AND w a Merilyn’s Kitchen. cerned the observation and documenta- project through their space, personal Some people don't make good subjects because their lives are too much in flux or tion of a 24-hour period in a woman's life, ritual and body movement. For instance, too disintegrated. With others it is hard to long enough to allow a certain time, body many feminists have approached me, but separate what the subject believes to be state or space to dominate. To date I have I want to document women’s space, not true from what I observe. documented six people and am still in the just feminists’ space. My initial ideas for this project con- process of observing four of them, includ- cal-ideological commitment they want to It is important to me that the subject Two events have been significant in my really understand what the project is ing my mother, Rose, my sister, Merilyn, use and understanding of my own space about on her own terms. I have to feel and my sister's four-year-old daughter, since I began this project. First I painted comfortable with my subjects, to feel that Anda (who occupies one bedroom and my bathroom and then I moved from my I am not intruding too much. What they one playroom). 500-square-foot home to a new apartment do and don't want photographed is infor- with 1200 square feet, which I trans- mative, though I don't want to be con- In my photographs I try to locate the feelings and sensations of my subjects, formed into a fantasy of space that I had trolled by what someone wants me to though sometimes it is just a scanning had for a long time — large, empty, quiet, see. Concealment is a delicate issue I've low stimulation. The second event was thought about a lot. The project is really process. I am concerned with a person's experience at a particular time and in a being hospitalized for ten days with a about disclosure, about how much a particular space. Past and future apply serious pelvic infection. I was given a little woman is able to disclose to the artist. As only when they obviously relate to the tray with powder, cream, toothbrush, soon as the camera comes in, there is in- present; for example, a woman in her toothpaste, mouthwash and cup. Nurses evitably a certain amount of playacting. I ninth month of pregnancy who has gained and doctors took over the care of my have to understand that, and at the same 40 pounds has a different energy than in body, which was so much a part of my prepregnancy, and her movements be- personal ritual. I adapted to this external- picture as possible of everyday ritual and come cumbersome, fewer, and more ly imposed space, but as I recovered, I space. focused. began to reassert my control over my per- time minimize my presence to get as real a The key to personal ritual is found in My selection of subjects has been criti- sonal ritual. When I shared a room, it was different places for different women. It cal. I have chosen for the most part by with a very sick woman who had cancer. I may appear in the areas to which a instinct. External circumstances, such as observed what happens when the disinte- woman devotes the most energy during economic constrictions, are major factors gration of a person's body breaks down the day. And yet a dirty kitty-litter box in occupation of space, so I have selected her ability to control her own space and may say something more important — or women from diverse economic, educa- ritual. I listened to the nurses and doctors plants (when they are watered or moved tional and cultural backgrounds. There is repeating how good she smelled from into the sunlight), or the humidifier (the also a wide variety in the degree of inti- baby powder. I began to think about this ritual of keeping it filled and the space at macy, as my subjects range from my and what happens in prisons, mental the proper temperature), or the medicine mother and sister to total strangers. I am institutions, hospitals, nursing homes, cabinet, the phone, the television set, a documenting a lesbian couple because dormitories, the army. I thought about workspace, shopping bag, refrigerator, women living openly with other women how a person maintains her personal cupboard shelves, cosmetics drawer. The in love/sexual relationships is one of the ritual or utilizes space in such involuntary pace of the daily ritual is particularly important recent changes in women’s life circumstances, what a woman takes with important. In one case the care and time styles. I had thought about documenting a her to such places. taken to wrap a head of lettuce indicated transsexual and a pair of identical twins, My project is primarily concerned with general “compulsive perfection.” The same woman told me that she had once but I finally decided that such unique how a person takes up space, whether or situations emphasized the anomalies and not she seems to fill a room, how her use sent out her cloth napkins to be cleaned detracted from exploring the essentials of of space relates to that of her husband, and pressed for her husbands birthday children or roommates. I had trouble dinner party. They “didn't look right” ask, “Why do you want to be docu- understanding one woman who seemed when they came back from the laundry, mented?” The answers often contain vital perfectly at ease with her body; perhaps it so she rewashed and reironed all of them. clues. Some people just want to be ob- was just that which lessened her need to served. Some have a fantasy or a politi- order or definitively affect external space. body, space and personal ritual. I always 19 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Rose Jewish, 57 years old, married for 37 years, three grown children, home earlier and they have (to her joy) more social life. Rose also part-time housewife recently returned to nursing on part-time entertains her friends at home (a two-story house) with weekly basis. She has started studying Spanish to understand her non- dinners of lox and bagels (paid for on a rotating basis by “the English-speaking clients and volunteers her nursing services girls”), followed by a Mah-jongg game. Bedtime is usually nine or periodically at a second clinic. Still spends a great deal of time ten, sometimes earlier, but never without an evening bath. Prob- cooking, cleaning, and caring for people (husband, grandchild ably the greatest changes for her at this time are the recent loss of once a week, often visiting children). The day always starts early her mother, the coming of a second grandchild, and the full and goes quickly, with great activity. Her husband, a car dealer transition to “grandmotherhood.” (age 63), used to put in an eight- to 12-hour day. He now comes Subject awakens at 6 a.m., cuddles with her husband for a while. I would like to express my appreciation to Carolyn Ashbaugh for help in organizing many of the ideas in this article. 20 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Merilyn Married, 34 years old, a mother, expecting her second child, working on a Ph.D. in human development— “busy, researcher, clinician, social worker, psychologist, woman.” She feels a lot of pressure to fulfill many roles. The pregnancy has made both physical and mental activity more difficult, with many days needed for rest and many nights to bed early. What is obvious about Merilyn is the pleasure and time she takes for personal Morning bath with her daughter Alexandra, nicknamed Anda.” A Getting dressed, holding on to cabinet for support. This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms 3 short fictions lucy r. lippard 1. the cries you hear The rocks trembled every day for over two months and in parts of Tibet a sick person or a woman who had given birth to a child was carefully prevented from sleeping. Sometimes the flower is so constructed that the insect cannot get at the nectar without brushing against a stigma which, perhaps because males tend to fall asleep more rapidly than females after intercourse, returns to stone needles. In the process of collapse the star's outer layers compress. Lying naked in the pouring rain, our wetness the world’s wetness, our hard bodies the makings of rock. We took no photographs. The vacant plains were a featureless screen on which we projected our memories of rivers forests oceans and mountains, of elsewhere — quick! Before it.... Meanwhile, the females of the indispensable earthquake rest quietly in the half-closed blossoms, sharing the power of sleep, oblivious to our pain. I was long in doubt concerning the origins of these conditions of stress, horror and exhaustion. That two different organisms should have simultaneously adapted themselves to each other. During the third severe shock the trees were so violently shaken that the birds flew out with frightened cries. Bubblelike cavities formed by expanding gas. Solid pieces blown violently out of the womb. Glass surfaces, brittle and gleaming, formed by rapid solidification. Touch me here. Wrinkles, pores in the earth's skin, basalt lavas swelling from beneath, channeled in fissures, dust and ash. The cries you hear are only the continuing shock of life. * * * “It is a fatal delusion which presents the earth as the lower half of the universe and the heavens as its upper half. The heavens and earth are not two separate creations, as we have heard repeated thousands and thousands of times. They are only one. The earth is in the heavens. The heavens are infinite space, indefinite expanse, a void without limits; no frontier circumscribes them, they have neither beginning nor end, neither top nor bottom, right nor left; there is an infinity of spaces which succeed each other in every direction.” * * * A mountain chain is an effective barrier. The slow movement of underground waters carrying silica into sandstone. Limestone metamorphosed is marble. Bedding planes obscured and mineral impurities drawn out into swirling streaks and bands, swirling streaks and bedding planes obscured. He is tall and arrogant, questioning and vulnerable. Cold tar will shatter if struck but will flow downhill if left undisturbed for a long time. Shattered and flowing, flowing and shattered if struck. Hard things that were soft. Soft things that were hard. Hot things that were cold. Cold things that were hot. Wet things that were dry. Dry things that were wet. Old things that were young. Young things that won't be old. It stops somewhere? Prove it. Under the mist a solid prose of rocks, rocks and water, hard rocks and flowing water, safe rocks and treacherous water. Rough rocks, motion frozen to the touch, thorny black volcanic piles, a vein, an aggregate, a channel worn away, a pit blown or swirled out, grains, knife edges vertical. And smooth rocks, covered with pale and slippery algae, soothed to a fine old gentleness. Patterns of water, ancient muds, slow curves. In some alpine mountains high above the timberline, sheets of frost-shattered rock fragments creep slowly down the valleys making curious tonguelike forms. My mouth. My tongue makes love to my mouth, searching its cavities for the softest, wettest places to fondle, sliding past and over the hard sharp teeth so that it hurts a little, overlapping, lapping its own roughness, slipping across the toothmounds under the gums and falling into the dark throat. Craving in. Prose, not poetry. Its tentacles reach in more directions at once, from a solider base, at a natural pace. It circles and radiates, has a core and a skin and a network of capillaries instead of only arteries. Memories wear away the present to an older landscape. My leg, thicker at the top than at the bottom, stronger at the bottom than at the top, stranger at the top than at the bottom, more useful at the bottom than at the top. At the top, plump flesh held firmly between thumb and forefinger, a few long fine hairs on the broadest whitest part. Smooth and soft and secret lining where other hairs intrude from other sources — darker, coarser. A crease separating the leg from the rest of the body, a crease that changes character as the leg is used for 22 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms different things, a soft crease when I am sitting, a mysterious crease when I am lying with one leg curled to my stomach, no crease at all when I am walking, but creased again when running, sometimes. A taut surface when held back, a valley between bulges when not. A leg slimming gradually to a knotted center where the bones assert themselves. A hard hairy hilltop, then a wrinkled old topography flattened into valleys. A leg that swells again, harder this time, smooth again, with a neatly turning strength of its own, a leg that is straight in front and soft-hard in back, flat then rounded, a leg that finally gives way to ankle and foot, the working parts detached from pleasure places above. The bony not so pretty skeletons of motion, fleshed only around the ankle bones, arched over the instep and finally twice in touch with the earth. * * * Each major time unit is brought to a close by orogeny, also called revolution. Disturbance, disruption, disintegration, under pressure. Even the strongest rocks may develop fractures. Deep decay and rotting of igneous and metamorphic rocks, from blocks to egg and sphere shapes. Water entering into union with minerals. Metamorphic rocks have undergone kneading and shaping, baking and shaking, shale turning to slate when split by cleavage, by slippage, during the process. Slate when struck sharply rings metallically. Clay comes in all colors. Playing the geomorphic role of a weak rock, staring at each other but not speaking until finally. A poetic geology to take back to the red hills, white clay to merge as pink. Isolated submarine mountains, the ocean floor pulled apart here, causing a rift, a certain cruelty. Alone is better I say. Then stop the invasion. If you see two scorpions together they are either making love or one of them is being eaten. Aries energy stepped back into the earth. My rock, your mesas. Ice needles pry apart joint blocks, tremendous pressures and bare high cliffs fall off into conical forms, especially in dry climates. Niches, shallow caves, rock arches, pits, cliff dwellings. Come now. Yes/No. In deserts, flash floods and earthflows, mudflows result from the inability of the dry land to permeate the permafrost. Shrinking and swelling. Given sufficient time, barriers can be broken down and new topographies arise. An unbridgeable gulf does not exist between organic and inorganic matter. * * * Drift, and erratic boulders are ascribed to mineral richness, to the action of great waves, but women’s tides told in the caves refute such theories. Play pale beyond. In a climate warmer than that we warned each other, islands separated from _ ice cover by a wide expanse of ocean, foregoing clubs for quieter power, fleshed fat and knowing. Warm interglacial leaves, ` closer to the fires, hands in a ring, shadows on the ceilings, circles drawn at dusk, footsteps from below. The occasional peculiar transportation of boulders in a manner not in harmony with what we see ice doing at the present time. But little girls are crafty. Our laughter pits the ocean floor. Echoing with pebble talk, scratched on anemones. Walls curving inward toward us. No windows. Pictures nonetheless. Melted between sisters in collision. Only global catastrophes could have brought about that smoothness. Only torrential rains, wet hair, wet cheeks. Each other. Barren stone and fragmented debris stops here, swept back while lakes and valleys are dug out by other women. Each a specialist in her field. What generates the enormous forces that bend, break and crush the rocks in mountain zones? What indeed. Women’s cataclysmic work, traced by fingers in the meteoric dust. Giving birth to each other. Excessive. 2. into among Stepping down and out. Someone else can move into this house. It looks o.k. from the outside but the inside needs some work. I only regret how long it took to get down those stairs to the basement. Overhead the pretty flowered curtains make wavered patterns on the sunny floor. A tomato is rotting fuzzily in the icebox drawer and other closets capture other odors, other faults. Under the bed dust gathers roses smell acrid. The sheets at the hamper’s bottom were stained last winter, not since. I've opened the windows but not the doors. It's all yours, if you want it. * * * Nesting fantasies. I am high in the tallest tree in the world and it sways in the wind. Exhilarating, precarious. I cling to my egg which is disguised as the sea. When the fish hatches I swim through the air until I find a cave, brown, humid, and grainy, where after a night with the boulder another egg is laid, this one transparent. I'm happy watching the beginnings of a new dream. It sometimes has petals, sometimes blades. One morning the walls are opaque and that’s that. Dead leaves turn to stone and I would leave but for the field of snakes that writhes beyond the entrance. * * * Shuttered. Unhinged. Falling off the roof. A nice white clapboard house with a soft green lawn, lace curtains at the windows, roses on a trellis over the door, the old fanlight sparkling when the light hits it. We need a very long time to move up the flagstone walk. In the process a war takes place, peace reigns, men land on the moon and women defend it, black blankets of oil are thrown across birds’ coffins and the sea stinks. Still the little house remains, the sun always dappling its freshly painted walls, the sound of piano scales twinkling delicately behind the curtain of warmth. When we reach the door we are exhausted, gray, crippled, and in pain. The doorknob, though brilliantly brass, is cold to our touch and the door sticks. It takes our last strength to open it and throw ourselves across the threshold onto what should be a rosy hearth but is instead a deep dark well, the bottom of which, at this telling, we have not reached. 23 This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms 3. headwaters For reasons of their own, women are suspicious of diving and frown on their menfolk going down. D----, who has starred in several underwater films, has never received a fan letter from a woman. — Jacques Cousteau We are already down there. We have already gone down, our breasts bumping the boulders struggling to rise. Our menfolk don't know where to send the fan letters. Can dive, but not delve. Perhaps far down are boundaries between layers of water not obvious at the surface of the sea and quite independent of surface phenomena. Not just still waters. Rapture of the depths. At a town called Headtide there is an old white church unconsciously marking with its spire the spot where the Sheepscot River, short and wide, a tidal estuary, comes to an end in a stony brook and then goes underground. The term tidal wave is loosely applied. Some rivers braid long plaits of sand with thinning streams, and others — always full, muddy and sated — lag in fat banks. Tides are most marked when the sun is nearest the earth. Tides thigh tickling, oozing over the edges and hummocks, a band of foam, making liquid land. Creeps up me toward immersion. Hold your waters. Making waves, seeing red. I flow she flows we flow. Lunar and solar tides coincide, are fully cumulative only twice each lunar month. While fans unfold, snap shut, and leave the flowers no escape. Underwater, irregularities rise and, cursing, fall. Two or more wave patterns at the same place and time. There can, however, be independent waves. And long rivers pass through different landforms like changing lovers. Impatiently cutting gorges, willing waterfalls and rapids to flatness. Unfamiliar bodies hurled at each other. Beneath the rumbling, boulders lurk and lurch, needing a pool. * * * My traveling dreams are washed in foreign waters. In one I swim along a beach. The water is warm and the same pale blue as the sky — bleached but not burning. Behind me swims a large black dog and before me floats a group of exotic birds, brilliant pink feathers wet but still light, raised above the water in a tangle of wings. The end of the beach is distant; all sand, no rocks or trees in sight. My swimming is leisurely but purposeful. In another dream I wake alone and rush to find my lover. He is in the bathtub and I yell desperately at him: Did I sleep alone last night? Did I sleep alone last night? Another night, my child, my lover and I are going to see a lighthouse through a swamp. The waterway is not very wide. Trees hang dense over the edges but in the center where we swim it's blue, unshaded. A long trip to make boatless, but we are swimming, accompanied at times by a fat friend. I'm not struck by the fact that we are swimming so much as by the length of the trip, not tired so much as a little bored. Once again the water is tepid, body temperature, lulling. The lighthouse when we get there is on a broader bay, still inland, mountains in the distance. There is some talk of leaving and returning in the afternoon. But there isn't time. * * * The waters broke with no warning. Lie still, pretend while it crests. Above our caves the divers’ forms pass dimly, unaware. Destructive advances of the sea upon the coasts have two distinct origins: dreams like sunwarmed flats when the tide comes in very slowly, visibly; earthquakes and storms. Neither related to the tide, and often not actually waves. Floating, I am a fleshy layer between sea and sky. Why go down? Letters melt and corals build. Why go down and not feel the moon in the pit of your stomach? Or hear ripples whisper on the floor? The ocean's bedrock blurred. Unexpected, the cold and purifying northern channels. With no warning, water on the brain, the belly, breast and buttock. Internal waves stained pink affecting everything below above. Doesn't hold water, that’s all. Divers ring their bells but fail to reach us, cannot pierce the bubbles that contain them. And we are already down there, friendly, calm, constructing small places in which to wait, making room for others, settling in, exchanging disguises, rearranging caves and mountains, waiting until they stop pouring oil on the waters, till they stop throwing rocks, sinking ships, turning our tides. Lucy Lippard is a feminist art critic who also writes “fiction”; it has been published in Center, Big Deal, Tractor, The World and elsewhere. 24 ` This content downloaded from 134.82.70.63 on Sat, 26 Mar 2022 19:18:33 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms 。 に LETTER UTTERINGS YVONNE RAINER Whet I would like た d。 He (fe ) (US A onc (a er prescr\bed oe ; mited use Fu Ww ブフ what The are Seemg. 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