WOMEN AND ART

A thematic overview of women’s art that lumps disparate work together in gross categories based on archetype, stereotype, theme, and body part. Although artist Chicago and art historian Lucie-Smith sought to create a book that would delineate the contested terrain between women and art, their collaborative effort only blurs it with clichÇ and generalization. From the opening chapter, which begins with the assertion that goddess imagery has “seized the imagination of many women and been a continuing source of energy within feminism,” they celebrate overlooked art based on its suitability to their ideological construct: that male artists, critics, and curators have overlooked and suppressed women’s work, which deserves to be seen and addressed. True, but no sustainable argument can emerge from such an a critical approach; all that remains is for the authors to provide a series of examples, which they do. Those examples break down into an unfortunate series of stock types, from the aforementioned goddesses to warrior women, madonnas, whores, martyrs, mothers, and daughters. And everywhere’strategically placed throughout the text—are images of Chicago’s own work. Could she merely be seeking to recontextualize herself in the feminist canon (that of Frieda Kahlo, Ana Mendieta, Cindy Sherman, even Mary Cassatt)? In light of the tremendous scholarship and theoretical insight that have been brought to bear on women’s art over the past ten years—and the riveting arguments about identity politics that have followed—the authors” lack of critical sophistication is painful to behold. Even worse, many of the contemporary works pictured are shockingly banal—chosen more for their subject matter than their visual, intellectual, or conceptual resonance. Chicago, apparently, is still very much in the grip of essential feminism, and her book suffers for it. As a critical text, Women and Art falls victim to old-style celebratory feminism, lauding without judgment or incisive, original thought.