Is Resistance Futile?

I feel resistance is necessary no matter how quixotic the effort is. Starting a journal like M/E/A/N/I/N/G, which Mira and I founded in 1986, and which I copublished, designed, and coedited for ten years was an act of opposition to the stances embodied in the glossy art magazines and in much of the theoretical positions and artwork of that time. M/E/A/N/I/N/G opened up an artist-oriented, noncommercial space in which working visual artists could voice their opinions. They could, for example, address theory and art criticism -- something that sounds simple yet is subtly controversial because art historians and critics generally prefer artists to be silent projection screens for interpretation. In M/E/A/N/I/N/G, artists were encouraged to write about specific aspects of their working lives -- such as combining art making with motherhood or dealing with racism and ageing. We also encouraged expressions of righteous outrage and we allowed our writers to be wacky and eccentric, to wander into lyricism and symbolic thinking.

We tried to create a space in which feminist issues were explored but also in which male artists were given an opportunity to address the issues that interested them. This created a dialogue between the genders as well as establishing a zone for exploring further aesthetic, political, and practical issues.

I have also been a member of A.I.R. Gallery since 1996. This is the first women's cooperative gallery in the US, started in 1973, and it is also an active and ongoing site of resistance. In fact, my very first appearance on a panel was at A.I.R in 1982, when the gallery was located on Crosby Street, on a panel entitled "Critics: A New Generation." In 1973, very few women artists were exhibited in mainstream spaces, so there was an urgent need for a space like this to exist.

Of course, as the title of our panel implies--resistance is not always successful. You may resist trends or assault them, but the art establishment lives on and often the establishment is blissfully unaware that any opposition is even taking place. It may react as though there is a tiny flea nipping at its ankles and it may choose to ignore the nuisance entirely. For instance, A.I.R. still has trouble getting its shows listed in the newspapers and some magazines will not review shows here. To some extent, the political ideas presented in M/E/A/N/I/N/G and in A.I.R. have been absorbed into the mainstream--feminism has been absorbed and spit out -- but only to surface in distorted forms.

Over the years, A.I.R has served as an important launching pad for many of today's more well-known women artists. Throughout the 70s, 80s, and 90s, I attended many notable exhibitions and significant panel discussions and performances here. Many of the women who showed at A.I.R., and some who also founded the gallery, such as Nancy Spero, Ana Mendieta, Elaine Reichek, and Dottie Attie have gone on to success in the artworld showing in upscale galleries and museums. Yet other women artists who showed here have totally disappeared from anyone's radar screen. The fine lines between success and failure, visibility and invisibility, resistance and assimilation are permeable ones. One thing does not always lead to the next.

Some people question the need for exclusively women's institutions like A.I.R. And there is the danger of ghettoizing female artists or of feeling that women-only galleries are second-rate. In addition, A.I.R. is facing the aging of its membership and the difficulty of attracting qualified and interesting younger women. Younger women artists want to make it in the mainstream, if possible, not languish on the fringes or in the past, where many perceive the feminist movement to reside. So all these issues swirl around the gallery, creating unresolvable difficulties. But then, the decision to follow a feminist path in art has never been easy. Being political and announcing your difference is not the most unproblematic way to proceed in the artworld. That's what makes maintaining an openly feminist space, with self-declared feminist artists in charge, such a challenge.

Cooperatives are based on the principles of participatory democracy, which makes them dynamic sites for the often fiercely individualistic and demanding egos of the twenty or so member artists. To come to a group decision is often an arduous process, because the lack of hierarchy provides both a frustrating and stimulating layer of intrigue. Since A.I.R. has been in existence for almost 30 years, rules have been formulated to deal with many of the problems that arise. I think it's important that A.I.R. exists even though women artists have made significant inroads into the mainstream. We still need a place of our own.

And I think resistance is valuable and necessary, but in some cases, no matter how much one aspires to assimilate and succeed, certain biases and stereotypes will hold you back. This is especially true with the insidious nature of racism and gender and ageist biases. You can cure it or tone it_down in one place only to have it resurface in another spot.

Another major factor undermining_resistance is burn-out. After awhile as endless self-starters, people and institutions can get very tired. People fight and fall out with each other and the idealism that started the whole enterprise may turn sour. In addition, the endless struggle for grants and money makes running any nonprofit organization frustrating. With rents and living expenses so high, small nonprofits are having great trouble staying alive.

Mira and I received some very welcome grants from the NEA and NYSCA, but still we had no help with most practical aspects of running the magazine and we basically did all the work ourselves. And we were used to that approach as artists.

It is in my own artwork even beyond any experiences with alternative institutions that I have experienced marginality and otherness most directly. It feels strange to nearly always be outside the trends of whatever is going on. In the end, I find I can't ignore the outside world but sometimes I have to proceed as if I could care less about it. Art, for me, is a way of following your own inner muse, while acknowledging the larger picture. No matter how disturbingly at odds the two may be. That may mean pursuing painting when it is considered outmoded. Or making book art that has a very limited audience and distribution network. Above all, it seems to mean that one proceeds against the odds. The so-called spectacle and the establishment will go on with or without me and I feel I always have to grapple with it on some level in my work and in my life. But for sanity's sake, sometimes I just cocoon myself in my work and do whatever I please. This leads to self-marginalization and eccentricity but the pursuit of one's individual vision and aesthetics seems like one approach to the mainstream and I tend to admire those like Blake and Ensor and Florine Stettheimer,_for instance, who went their own way.

One exciting new development that really caught hold since 1996 when we stopped publishing M/E/A/N/I/N/G is the internet and the world wide web. Probably if we were starting a journal right now we would start it up on the web. Beyond its commercial uses, the web and e-mail form a potent basis for organization and resistance and allows for the formation of small groups of like-minded individuals who can band together for discussion and mutual support. However, in many ways it has yet to live up to all its potential.

In summary, I want to say that establishing an alternative institution be it a gallery space like this or a journal like M/E/A/N/I/N/G creates a power base within which you can challenge authority. I believe every act of resistance is worth performing no matter how humble it is.