Installation view of Nasty Women at the Knockdown Center (photo by author)
Nasty Women
The Knockdown Center
52-19 Flushing Avenue
Maspeth, Queens
On view until January 15, 2017
In the months since Donald Trump’s election, I’ve often wondered about the possibility of art to enact tangible change. Looking forward to four years of terrifying and potentially life-threatening rollbacks on progressive achievements, how can artists do more than just address these issues aesthetically?
Nasty Women at the Knockdown Center provides a practical answer by effectively combining art with tactics of grassroots organizing. As much a benefit as an art show, all the proceeds from the artwork sold will be donated to Planned Parenthood. And with the first step to repealing Obamacare passing in the Senate the night before the opening, the exhibition could not come at a better time.
Nasty Women began with a simple Facebook post. Artist Roxanne Jackson and curator Jessamyn Fiore wrote, “Hello female artists/curators! Let’s organize a NASTY WOMEN group show!!! Who’s interested???” After receiving an overwhelming amount of interest, the duo translated their initial post into an open call for female-identifying artists to send work that would sell for $100 or less. According to the press release, over 700 artists submitted.
Installation view of Nasty Women at the Knockdown Center (photo by author)
Entering the Knockdown Center’s warehouse space, the overwhelming expanse of submissions was immediately visible. Enormous sculptural purple letters spelled out “NASTY WOMEN” like a riot grrrl version of Stonehenge in the center of the gallery. Not only a monument to the reappropriation of Trump’s derogatory reference to Hillary Clinton, these letters also act as the exhibition’s temporary walls. Numerous paintings, drawings and prints hang from top to bottom on both sides of the letters, videos play both on and inside the “T” in “NASTY” and small sculptures stand on platforms in the “W.”
At first, I rolled my eyes at the cheesy curatorial choice to mount the works on and within the title of the show. It couldn’t be more on the nose. And yet, after some consideration, maybe subtlety is no longer politically appropriate when the President-Elect primarily speaks in 140 characters. It also is more effective than simply slapping everything on a wall like a typical salon-style show.
Debra Broz, Pussies Grabbing Back (photo by author)
As with most open calls, the artwork was a mixed bag. Some pieces felt thrillingly unexpected such as Elena Berriolo’s Picasso Sewing, a witty black-and-white collage of the typically macho painter performing traditional women’s work. Conversely, other inclusions were disappointingly predictable including various text-based takes on the phrase “nasty woman” and a copious amount of unflattering portraits of Donald Trump. At some point, a painting of Trump as an Oompa Loompa gets old.
Other works used Trump’s Cheeto-dusted pallor in more inventive ways. Take, for example, Debra Broz’s Pussies Grabbing Back, a porcelain figurine depicting cats attacking an orange-faced boyish Trump. Broz’s use of porcelain felt like a relevant nod to mass-produced collectible kitsch, which is as popular in middle America as the President-Elect.
Carolyn Figel, International Womens Day is Also National Pancake Day (photo by author)
Perhaps unsurprisingly given its feminist edge, the show was overflowing with vaginas. While some artists represented female genitalia through large shells, fabric and other suggestive materials, other artists took a more subdued angle. For instance, Carolyn Figel’s International Women’s Day Is Also National Pancake Day portrayed 25 tiny watercolor vaginas sporting various pubic hair styles. It was actually cute.
While Figel’s success was an outlier amongst vagina-themed art, the show’s overall hit-or-miss qualities could be overlooked due to the undeniable strength of the show’s cause. Here, the art was merely a vehicle to provide much-needed support to an essential organization currently under threat. And with all the art priced at $100 or less, most visitors could buy something. Most viewers who can’t t afford the higher price points, could still shell out for Nicole Seisler’s $3 bags of broken shards from November 9th emblazoned with the plea “please put back together”. In comparison to other more exclusive and expensive art world benefits, this felt refreshingly inclusive and democratic.
And Nasty Women doesn’t just end in Queens. Taking the reins from Jackson and Fiore, other cities are organizing their own versions of the show. On the Nasty Women website, it lists 27 future exhibitions in cities as varied as Detroit, San Antonio, Amsterdam and Brussels. This is particularly crucial in the context of Planned Parenthood’s donation model. When donating to the organization, half of the donation typically (unless specified otherwise) goes to the federal Planned Parenthood office and half to the local affiliate. In other words, a show in a red state like Texas is even more critical than one in New York.
Witnessing a powerful merging of art and grassroots organizing in Queens, as well as looking forward to future national and international versions of the show, I left Nasty Women feeling hopeful–a rare emotion days away from Trump’s inauguration. A cornerstone of Obama’s legacy, hope feels even more audacious now. In his farewell address on Tuesday, Obama said, “I am asking you to believe. Not in my ability to bring about change–but in yours.” And with Obama’s words in mind, Nasty Women, likewise, gives the art world a reason to believe in our own activist abilities that will see us through the next administration.
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