PARTICIPATING ARTISTS:
Tracey EMIN Nadine FARAJ Sarah FAUX Citlali HARO Katarina JANEČKOVÁ
Jane KAPLOWITZ Monica LOYA Shona McANDREW
Marilyn MINTER Zanele MUHOLI Lara NASSER Anya PAINTSIL
Katarzyna PRZEZWAŃSKA Erin M. RILEY Filipka RUTKOWSKA
Kate SIMON Masha SILCHENKO Betty TOMPKINS
Alicja BIAŁA with Maria VOELKEL-BRUKWICKA Augustina WANG
There has perhaps never been a more urgent time than now to be a bad girl. Women and non-binary people across the world have historically always faced myriad challenges, but in recent years systemic injustices, threats to bodily autonomy, and increasingly restrictive and regressive policies (the reversal of Roe versus Wade in the United States, for example) have heightened the urgency to take action and fight back. What might have been considered transgressive or radical in decades past are becoming necessary forms of expression to make sure diverse voices are heard in the fight for justice. Being bad might go against the status quo, but the status quo is failing women, minorities, and trans and non-binary people.
As concerns evolve in our rapidly changing world, artists offer ways to understand and cope with reality. Indeed, artists and trailblazing women have been guiding lights for the oppressed and the underrepresented for decades. Beginning in the early 20th century, the role of women in Western society shifted, echoing calls for suffrage that had slowly been developing for generations. As the desire for legal equalities and the right to vote spread, women soon found themselves in new roles as they became crucial members of the workforce during World War I and II and the image of the allegorical Rosie the Riveter became a cultural icon in the US, with comparable symbols celebrating the work of women popping up abroad. The desire to contribute to society didn’t end with the wars, and postwar years saw women increasingly fight to carve spaces for themselves in the corporate realm, a characteristic of the second wave feminism that was forming in the early 1960s. At this time, gender discrimination and misogyny were as pervasive as ever and feminists began to challenge the patriarchal, unequal systems that defined the Western world (and still define some societies today). As pushes for equality and representation spread, so too did the calls to celebrate women’s voices, their contributions to society, and their desires and tastes. In art history, this gave rise in the early 1970s to a vocal group of feminists eager to challenge the status quo, a moment epitomized by Linda Nochlin’s groundbreaking essay Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists? Published in 1971, the watershed text challenged the male-centric cannon of art history and shed light on the systemic issues that prevented women artists from exceling professionally. That same year, Lucy Lippard’s groundbreaking exhibition, Twenty Six Contemporary Women Artists, opened at The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum in Ridgefield, Connecticut, joining the push to correct the wrongs of the industry and give women a platform to exhibit their work. Around the same time, artists like Ana Mendieta, Martha Rosler, and Judy Chicago were fighting against the male gaze and exploring a feminine view of the body and womanhood. These and other artists and thinkers set the groundwork for a more equitable art ecosystem and an art historical record that included women. The work, however, took decades and ebbed and flowed as policies and perspectives on culture changed. Indeed, there is more work left to be done today.
Curated by Izabela Depczyk, MALCRIADAS welcomes this onus and takes as its focal point the artists who embody the spirit of a trailblazer. Loosely translating to the Portuguese term for “bad girls,” the exhibition celebrates 21 contemporary women and non-binary artists whose practices dismantle patriarchal barriers, challenge social norms, and pose critical—often uncomfortable—questions. The show takes a multigenerational approach, reflecting the past, present, and future of bad girls in the art world, as well as the cyclical nature of the issues they face. The world in which Nochlin was writing might feel distant, but political and social systems continue to thrust society back into eras where antiquated policies strip women of bodily rights. Cultural shifts have brought bigotry to the fore and the ‘male genius’ Nochlin was fighting against is once again a pervasive, prominent threat. Over five decades later, we need bad girls more than ever.
While inspired by the 1994 Bad Girls exhibition at the New Museum and others of the same ethos, MALCRIADAS considers the legacy of feminist art not with a definitive survey, but rather with a general grouping of diverse artists that encourages critical, provocative dialogue. Featuring works in a variety of mediums, including photography, textile, ceramics, sculpture, and painting, MALCRIADAS reveals the many ways in which artists parse reality and put a mirror to the issues and existential absurdities of society.
A member of the older generation of artists in the show, Betty Tompkins scandalized in the 1970s by painting oversized images cropped from pornography. Constantly censored — French authorities barred these sexually explicit works from entering the country in 1973 — Tompkins normalized the clandestine acts, celebrating sexuality, and still does so today. However, at the time Tompkins began creating her scandalous works, she was seen as being at odds with feminist principles because she used pornography as a source material, which was considered misogynist and perpetuating the male gaze. Had she crafted the imagery from her imagination or her own experiences, she might have fit the feminism of the day like, for example, artist Joan Semmel.
Tompkins does, however, better fit the so-called fourth wave of feminism that we are in now, a wave that in the last roughly 15 years has shifted towards intersectionality and inclusivity of trans and non-binary experiences, the groundwork of which was laid in the 1990s with a greater push for diversity during the third wave. The fourth wave leverages the connectedness of 21st century society, embracing collective and internet-based activism. It also brings to the fore subjects considered taboo just a few decades ago, in particular an open dialogue on issues of sexual assault and violence against women and trans and non-binary people. Tompkins’ work epitomizes many of the characteristics of feminism today. Her “Women Words” series, for example, highlights how women have been historically mistreated, even if it wasn’t discussed. An early example of using the internet to crowdsource information and unite disparate communities, the series began with an email Tompkins circulated in 2002 and 2013 asking for words to describe women. She then painted the results, ranging from affectionate to offensive, over found imagery sourced from art history books, sometimes entirely covering female figures from artworks by renowned male artists in her signature pink paint. With the rise of the #MeToo movement, Tompkins began using apologies and reports from lawyers as her source text, illustrating the dehumanizing language used every day to refer to women.
Addressing related themes is Brooklyn-based Erin M. Riley, whose captivating, hand-woven tapestries incorporate imagery from social media and the internet and depict subjects ranging from pornography and condoms to drugs and bloody tampons. Her innovative blending of textiles with digital imagery ties the artist to the legacy of weavers in art history, many of whom were women. Indeed, weaving and fiber art have long been considered artforms for women, partly due to the associations between women and the domestic sphere — associations that bad girls like Riley help to break down. Highlighting powerful themes with intentionally provocative and shocking images — often on a large scale — Riley forces the viewer to confront critical issues from bodily autonomy and mental health to domestic violence and sexual assault, topics that decorous society chooses to ignore or bury, forcing those struggling to cope in silence. At times, the artist also depicts her own nude body, simultaneously discovering and claiming space for herself, weaving every experience into each meticulous stitch. Riley’s raw, direct confrontations of sexual assault and violence against women help to shed light on the pervasiveness of the issues, bolstered by cultural shifts to address them in the wake of the #MeToo movement. Political developments have also increased the openness, and necessity to address these issues, including the Adult Survivors Act, a groundbreaking law passed in New York in November of 2022 that altered the statute of limitations for victims of sexual assault or abuse who were over the age of 18 at the time it occurred. Since then, several cases have come to light, incriminating public figures and encouraging widespread conversations that are reframing how we view many leaders from television, film, music, and beyond.
Riley’s use of internet-based imagery resonates throughout MALCRIADAS. In Augustina Wang’s dreamy figural paintings, for example, the artist considers similar themes of growing up and forming a sense of identity in the age of social media and online forums, challenges unique to the 21st century. Wang investigates how the internet allows people to create new identities and explore different aspects of their personalities, both real and imagined, in a kind of virtual roleplaying, underscoring the importance of technology in providing an outlet for self-exploration. Connecting this with her own work and how artmaking can provide a venue to express oneself, Wang draws from folklore and mythology, as well as her relationships with her mother, a first-generation immigrant from China, and her experiences of understanding identity through familial stories and across language barriers.
Wang challenges cultural binaries and the notion of a fixed identity. So too does the multidisciplinary artist and curator Filipka Rutkowska, whose practice spans performance, video, installation, and drawing. Rutkowska takes a gender-fluid, queer approach to addressing identity, breaking down rigid notions of sexuality ingrained within modern society. She adopts personas that provide a lens through which to parse the highly performative nature of life in general. Rutkowska’s approach to issues of gender binaries is crucial, as narrow-minded policies increasingly threaten the freedom and rights of trans, non-binary, and gender non-conforming individuals. Indeed, seemingly daily, conservatives, politicians, internet trolls, and media outlets are openly denouncing artistic expressions (or any expressions) that challenge their beliefs. Even the opening ceremony of the 2024 Summer Olympic games caused global controversy for supposedly mocking Christianity with drag performers allegedly reenacting Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper (1495), a disappointing case of bigotry that overshadowed a much-needed, joyful celebration of queer culture. Supporting trans, non-binary, and gender non-confirming voices is crucial.
The same can be said of supporting women in general, which many artists explore through representations of the female figure to discuss a range of issues, including positive celebrations of body-image and sexuality — conversations often repressed for fear of verging from the norm or silenced out of protection of the status quo. This parallels feminist discourse today and its openness to body positivity, seen best in Shona McAndrew’s watercolor paintings with curvy, nude women. Such images, of course, are not accepted in all circles, in particular conservative groups that would prefer to see women clothed, as well as beauty standards that prefer slim figures. McAndrew pushes against these norms, challenging what is considered beautiful.
Also celebrating body positivity, as well as LGBTQ+ identities, is Nadine Faraj whose watercolors feature abstracted figures with fluid, washy brushstrokes and colors that seem to melt into one another. Often shown with tender expressions and in poses that suggest charged moments that range from pleasure to angst, Faraj’s paintings exude emotion. Similarly abstracted bodies appear in Ethel Coppieters’s painting Never Alone (2023) in which jumbled arms reach towards a nude figure who looks at the viewer. With a soft, yet indifferent expression, the figure seems almost detached, as if lost in distant thoughts. The title is both comforting and foreboding, a reminder of the juxtapositions inherent in our hyper-connected, yet deeply impersonal, 21st century society.
Throughout art history, artists have used their practices to create interpersonal relationships and as a form of self-preservation and determination, claiming space and asserting their voices both on an individual level and for their communities. The London-based, Welsh and Ghanaian artist Anya Paintsil, for example, combines fibers, hair pieces, and her own hair in figurative works to examine race, gender, and self-expression in the African diaspora. Blending textile and sculpture, she incorporates hairstyles and adornments significant in various cultures, such as Sad really innit (2023-24), her piece in MALCRIADAS that includes hand-braided hair in the Senegalese twist style. Similar explorations of the self appear in Mexican artist Citlali Haro’s figural works that combine surrealist elements and fragmented narratives to reflect on her experiences with lucid dreaming. In Soy ese lugar (2024), Haro depicted a richly colored desert landscape overlayed with a female face. The title suggests a kind of existential moment of self-reflection in which the figure considers the intertwining nature of identity and place.
Beyond MALCRIADAS, there is significant precedence in history to use art to preserve identity. The legendary photographer Joan E. Biren (JEB), for example, traveled across the US in the 1970s, photographing lesbians when homophobia and hatred forced them people to live largely clandestine lives for their own protection. She then toured these images to women-only audiences across the country in what became known as “The Dyke Show”. JEB continues to document queer life and queer spaces, preserving their rich cultures and traditions. Without JEB’s early activism, it’s hard to know whether the queer stories she highlighted during decades of deep homophobia would exist today. Similarly, MALCRIADAS artist Zanele Muholi has been documenting Black people from the LGBTQ+ community in South Africa for over a decade, creating striking photographs that address the ongoing discrimination and violence they face. Sensitive and arresting, Muholi’s subjects resist the negative view of queer and trans people in South Africa. While focusing on their home country, Muholi’s works resonate worldwide as LGBTQ+ communities still face stigmatization and discrimination across the globe despite great strives made since the time of “The Dyke Show”. Moreover, as we have seen with increasingly polarizing rhetoric in politics, online, and in the media, LGBTQ+ communities remain the target of restrictive policies and bigotry.
Together the artists in MALCRIADAS challenge boundaries, conventions, and the status quo in their own unique voices. Both in the exhibition and in contemporary society in general, bad girls are not afraid to address the fundamental truths that connect us. They touch on taboo and scandalous topics, bringing to the fore aspects of life that are unspoken, silenced, or deemed indecent. They consider the nuances of identity and sexuality and how the policing of bodies and power dynamics form systemic injustices and toxic conventions. We need these voices if we are going to protect our human rights.
In uniting these creatives in MALCRIADAS, we find common ground in the issues facing women and non-binary people, which reverberate through underserved groups worldwide. As difficult as it might be to broach uncomfortable topics, the things that make us different and the experiences that define the human condition are ultimately what make us stronger. MALCRIADAS celebrates and amplifies the ways visionary voices share critical messages, inviting dialogue as we continue to break down barriers and redefine conventions.
Text written by Annabel Keenan.