Polvo de Gallina Negra (Mónica Mayer and Maris Bustamante), ca. 1983; photograph. Courtesy of the Artist and Museo Universitario Arte Contemporáneo.

Si Tiene Dudas… Pregunte [When in Doubt… Ask] at the Museo Universitario de Arte Contemporáneo (MUAC) is a retrocollective of works by feminist art pioneer Mónica Mayer (b. Mexico City, 1954). “Retrocollective” isn’t a very well-known term[1] and certainly not one that many artists would choose to designate their career retrospective, but Mónica Mayer isn’t like other artists. Since the late ’70s, Mayer has been discussing, rethinking, and refuting issues that are fundamental to the Mexican sociocultural environment: gender, equality, violence, age, body, memory, intimacy, labor, social policies, representation, and all of their possible combinations.

Mayer’s artistic strength lies in the solid community she has formed around her activities, where friendship, empathy, and complicity play a pivotal role. As the exhibition title emphasizes, constant dialogue is her best weapon. It is indeed a Mónica Mayer show, but with a horizontal and collaborative discourse, which curator Karen Cordero Reiman successfully achieves. The exhibition stands as a recognition to the many contributors that have shaped these projects throughout the years. Their joint and fearless efforts have made visible what was previously disregarded from the canonical and patriarchal perspective.

When in Doubt… Ask follows a chronological order that highlights Mayer’s professional path. The body of works displayed in the exhibition cover a wide variety of mediums—from painting, print, collage, and photography to performance, video, TV appearances, mail art, actions, publications, and archives. The issues explored in her pieces more than thirty years ago still resonate today. Mayer’s acute awareness is the reason why the same questions are posed over and over again, though not without bitter taste.

Mónica Mayer. El Tendedero [The Clothesline], 1978; installation view, Museo de Arte Moderno, Mexico City.

Mayer’s actions and practices are both individual and collective, oscillating between public and private stances. A Veces Me Espantan Mis Fantasías [Sometimes My Fantasies Scare Me] (1977) demonstrate her explorations into intimate lust and desire. Framed by a semi-open curtain, the piece welcomes the spectator’s gaze into a woman’s fantasy, displaying two photographs of male and female genitals, covered by a soft tissue. The use of materials, like fabric and thread, establish a critique about what is expected from a woman’s femininity. Meanwhile, at the bottom of the work, the eyes of a woman give a defiant stare.

Mónica Mayer. A Veces Me Espantan Mis Fantasías, 1977; photography and objects on canvas. Courtesy of the Artist and Museo Universitario Arte Contemporáneo.

Students, mothers, families, teenagers, and elderly women are part of the groups represented in Mayer’s artistic practice. Along with artist Maris Bustamante, Mayer founded the first feminist art group in Mexico in the early ’80s: Polvo de Gallina Negra. The group sought to tackle many problematic aspects of social and political interactions. One of their most important projects was ¡MADRES! (1983–1987), a long-term collaboration that involved performances, mail art, and different actions that put motherhood at stake. ¡MADRES! considered the prejudices and discriminatory attitudes that women are subjected to after becoming mothers. Mayer returned to these concerns in her 2012 performance Maternidades Secuestradas (2012) [Kidnapped Motherhoods], in which she invited people to explain, while wearing an apron, what they considered to be a “kidnapped motherhood”—from the actual disappearances of their sons and daughters to the unfair working conditions that take a mother’s time away from her children.

Mónica Mayer. Lo Normal [The Average], 1978 (detail); print intervened with stamps; 10 cards. Courtesy of the Artist and Museo Universitario Arte Contemporáneo.

By socializing thoughts, experiences, and feelings, When in Doubt… Ask unfolds a critical net, in which damaging behavior patterns can be analyzed and fought, and where constructive actions can be taken. Mayer’s retrocollective is a big celebration and simultaneously a reminder to keep on fighting for women’s rights. In our fragile and corrupt political condition—where students disappear into thin air, journalists are silenced with death, and femicides are denied by the authorities—we need counterparts such as Mayer’s to continue the claim for freedom of speech, memory, and justice. On an exhibition wall, one question asks, “Can art be both critical and warm?” After visiting Mónica Mayer’s exhibition, there should be no doubt in giving an affirmative answer.

Si Tiene Dudas… Pregunte: Una Exposición Retrocolectiva de Mónica Mayer was on view at the Museo Universitario de Arte Contemporáneo (MUAC) in Mexico City through July 31, 2016.

[1] In this context, the term “retrocollective” was suggested to Mónica Mayer by the Argentinian art historian María Laura Rosa, who understood it as a vehicle for integration instead of exclusion.

Polvo de Gallina Negra (Mónica Mayer and Maris Bustamante), ca. 1983; photograph. Courtesy of the Artist and Museo Universitario Arte Contemporáneo.

Mayer’s artistic strength lies in the solid community she has formed around her activities, where friendship, empathy, and complicity play a pivotal role. As the exhibition title emphasizes, constant dialogue is her best weapon. It is indeed a Mónica Mayer show, but with a horizontal and collaborative discourse, which curator Karen Cordero Reiman successfully achieves. The exhibition stands as a recognition to the many contributors that have shaped these projects throughout the years. Their joint and fearless efforts have made visible what was previously disregarded from the canonical and patriarchal perspective.

When in Doubt… Ask follows a chronological order that highlights Mayer’s professional path. The body of works displayed in the exhibition cover a wide variety of mediums—from painting, print, collage, and photography to performance, video, TV appearances, mail art, actions, publications, and archives. The issues explored in her pieces more than thirty years ago still resonate today. Mayer’s acute awareness is the reason why the same questions are posed over and over again, though not without bitter taste.

Mónica Mayer. El Tendedero [The Clothesline], 1978; installation view, Museo de Arte Moderno, Mexico City.

Mayer’s actions and practices are both individual and collective, oscillating between public and private stances. A Veces Me Espantan Mis Fantasías [Sometimes My Fantasies Scare Me] (1977) demonstrate her explorations into intimate lust and desire. Framed by a semi-open curtain, the piece welcomes the spectator’s gaze into a woman’s fantasy, displaying two photographs of male and female genitals, covered by a soft tissue. The use of materials, like fabric and thread, establish a critique about what is expected from a woman’s femininity. Meanwhile, at the bottom of the work, the eyes of a woman give a defiant stare.

Mónica Mayer. A Veces Me Espantan Mis Fantasías, 1977; photography and objects on canvas. Courtesy of the Artist and Museo Universitario Arte Contemporáneo.

Students, mothers, families, teenagers, and elderly women are part of the groups represented in Mayer’s artistic practice. Along with artist Maris Bustamante, Mayer founded the first feminist art group in Mexico in the early ’80s: Polvo de Gallina Negra. The group sought to tackle many problematic aspects of social and political interactions. One of their most important projects was ¡MADRES! (1983–1987), a long-term collaboration that involved performances, mail art, and different actions that put motherhood at stake. ¡MADRES! considered the prejudices and discriminatory attitudes that women are subjected to after becoming mothers. Mayer returned to these concerns in her 2012 performance Maternidades Secuestradas (2012) [Kidnapped Motherhoods], in which she invited people to explain, while wearing an apron, what they considered to be a “kidnapped motherhood”—from the actual disappearances of their sons and daughters to the unfair working conditions that take a mother’s time away from her children.

Mónica Mayer. Lo Normal [The Average], 1978 (detail); print intervened with stamps; 10 cards. Courtesy of the Artist and Museo Universitario Arte Contemporáneo.

By socializing thoughts, experiences, and feelings, When in Doubt… Ask unfolds a critical net, in which damaging behavior patterns can be analyzed and fought, and where constructive actions can be taken. Mayer’s retrocollective is a big celebration and simultaneously a reminder to keep on fighting for women’s rights. In our fragile and corrupt political condition—where students disappear into thin air, journalists are silenced with death, and femicides are denied by the authorities—we need counterparts such as Mayer’s to continue the claim for freedom of speech, memory, and justice. On an exhibition wall, one question asks, “Can art be both critical and warm?” After visiting Mónica Mayer’s exhibition, there should be no doubt in giving an affirmative answer.

Si Tiene Dudas… Pregunte: Una Exposición Retrocolectiva de Mónica Mayer is on view at the Museo Universitario de Arte Contemporáneo (MUAC) in Mexico City through July 31, 2016.

[1] In this context, the term “retrocollective” was suggested to Mónica Mayer by the Argentinian art historian María Laura Rosa, who understood it as a vehicle for integration instead of exclusion.

Ana Álvarez-Errecalde. The Four Seasons Series: Symbiosis, 2013-2014. © Ana Álvarez-Errecalde.

Through the eyes of women artists, motherhood is increasingly a subject of contemporary art. For the Argentine-born artist Ana Álvarez-Errecalde, motherhood was the very impetus for becoming a contemporary artist. Álvarez-Errecalde’s searing photographs depict experiences like home birth, breastfeeding, care for a special-needs child, and gestational loss. Drawing on the traditional trope of classic portraiture, and often taken outdoors or against a white backdrop, her staged images balance the wild and unknown—the blood and pain of bodily cycles—with the sensitivity and tenderness of human connection. Straightforward, tender, and often messy, her work is a response to popular media depictions of motherhood as immaculate or sexy.

Álvarez-Errecalde’s self-directed images of motherhood present a counter-archetype of the mother: a woman in control and unapologetic about the gore, discomfort, and trauma involved in bringing a new life into the world. In an interview with Flic Magazine, Álvarez-Errecalde said, “I don’t think we have to get rid of one thing for the other. The problem that I see is that we only have this singular story being told and I think we have to be as plural as possible. Most of the popular imagery that we see of women comes from a male, heterosexual, occidental, and patriarchal perspective.”

Read the full article here.

Carrie Marill. Dishberg, 2014; acrylic and graphite on linen; 44 x 58 in. Courtesy of the Artist and Lisa Sette Gallery, Scottsdale. Photo: Michael Lundgren.

Dishberg (2014), for example, is a formally beautiful array of pattern and color. The title alludes to that mountainous pile of dirty dishes that accumulates daily, and here the iceberg shape is composed of alternating blue and white stripes that rest atop a pink-bricked surface with a neutral, gray-bricked wall in the background. This is the kind of mess one could look at for a very long time. In a home with babies, the only things that amass faster than dishes are diapers and laundry; Pile (2014) could be either or neither of these. Here the pink bricks seem to reference building blocks, the sort that children play with as they help create the structure on which the paint rests. This pile is ambiguous—is it accumulating or deteriorating?

Carrie Marill. Pile, 2014; acrylic and graphite on linen; 44 x 38 in. Courtesy of the Artist and Lisa Sette Gallery, Scottsdale. Photo: Michael Lundgren.

A more introspective work, Calder Crowd (2014) consists of three nesting figures with their backs to the viewer, engaged in some unseen activity with an audience of igloo-like masses. Silhouettes of Calder mobiles punctuate the composition and lend a sense of serenity to an otherwise turbulent scene. The large canvas (38 x 44 inches) is nearly all gray, blue, and taupe, while the heads of the three female figures are made of frenetic bands of multicolored hair. Borrowing a technique seen in Futurist painter Giacomo Balla’s Dynamism of a Dog on a Leash (1912), Marill represents movement through repetition of the women’s heads.

Carrie Marill. Calder Crowd, 2014; acrylic and graphite on linen; 38 x 44 in. Courtesy of the Artist and Lisa Sette Gallery, Scottsdale. Photo: Michael Lundgren.

Marill’s previous works have explored patterning—as in Native American weavings, Persian miniatures, Japanese scrolls, and American quilts—and often appropriated aspects from the art-historical canon. Elements typical of artists such as Alexander Calder, Constantin Brancusi, Agnes Martin, and Philip Guston surface in unexpected places in Marill’s work. More than half of the canvases are small (14-by-11-inch) still lifes and studies of pattern and color that resurface in the larger canvases. The subjects are hands, eyes, patterned vessels, cigarette butts, and a curiously familiar lightbulb. When I spoke with the artist, she mentioned the influence of Philip Guston and his paintings of lightbulbs; the subject of Marill’s Closet (2014) is a lone, fluorescent spiral lightbulb hanging in front of the corner of a pink-bricked wall. Similar to Guston’s paintings, it evokes a sense of isolation and desperation.

Carrie Marill. Closet, 2014; acrylic on linen; 14 x 11 in. Courtesy of the Artist and Lisa Sette Gallery, Scottsdale. Photo: Michael Lundgren.

Another small work, Mundane (2014), highlights the medium of paint itself in a kaleidoscope of acrylic colors on the artist’s signature raw-linen canvas. An unstable pile of oozing, cracked paint reveals the particular qualities of the paint that is used to give furniture a distressed look. When a thick coat is applied, it cracks and wrinkles, in this case revealing vulnerability. Most of the works on display hold a duality of strength and weakness. They pile up paint or blocks that fall down or go nowhere. Here, domesticity and motherhood are approached as a series of Sisyphean tasks.

Carrie Marill. Mundane, 2014; acrylic on linen; 14 x 11 in. Courtesy of the Artist and Lisa Sette Gallery, Scottsdale. Photo: Michael Lundgren.

Women have fought long and hard (and continue to fight) to be considered equals to men in the art world. In the 19th century, when a few talented artists broke through the patriarchal art world, they painted what they knew and what they had access to: the interior of houses and children. Since then, women have stayed far away from a subject matter that would label them as anything less than professional in their field. The works of Carrie Marill are by no means representations of the traditional mother and child, but the title of the show and the individual works relate to the complicated realm of motherhood and artistic production. Although the artist sees this as a sloppy, disordered place, her works read as beautiful ruminations on the interior, domestic sphere.

Carrie Marill:
 Domesticated is on view at Lisa Sette Gallery in Scottsdale, Arizona, through May 17, 2014.