... When I read the c. 7,500 catalogue I was overjoyed to find that I am working alongside of a great many other women, especially you. I am enclosing a resume, a descriptive list of works to date, and transcriptions of videotapes for you to peruse. Also a photograph of me invading homosexual consciousness...
Recently I have been working on a piece called "Male Impersonator" and on method acting concerns. I find that in front of the camera I don’t feel particularly male or homosexual or what ever; the identity shock comes when I look at the photographs of myself in those roles. I am considering an actual invasion of another identity: being picked up on Halifax waterfront as a prostitute. That would involve real risk. I don’t think I would be able to forget who I am, though, in spite of the immersion. To lose myself was my original intent, I think, in December of 1971. Also I used to worry about audience verification of my success a good deal more than I do now. In the method acting exercise, I wanted to track the images that would cause me to, say, cry using a tape recorder, and I found that the intellectual process of talking about emotion prohibited me from experiencing it.
Who are the "four people" in a relationship? Do you distinguish between real self and perception of self? How do you document your interchanges, exchanges and redefinitions?... Hope to meet you someday. If you’re ever in Halifax (ha) you can sleep in my studio.
Martha Wilson came to see me last Thursday. She is in the c. 7,500 show with me, and after receiving her pieces and talking on the phone, I was excited about meeting her. We talked with familiarity, not as strangers. Yet there wasn’t enough time — little more than an hour—allowing us to barely do anything more than become aware of each other’s positions.... We jumped from subject to subject like two people sampling a feast of appetizers, wanting to taste everything. She is full of curiosity and hunger, and buoyancy, asking questions, taking in information, talking rapidly, never resting.
She has an open face, quick to smile with her eyes as well as her mouth, a gamine quality with a sense of camp. Short shaggy yellow hair, plucked out, bleached eyebrows, fair skin. She wore pants and a short-sleeved printed shirt. She laughs easily, and has a natural extroverted sense of theater. Yet there is nothing theatrical about her appearance.
I liked her immensely. I also recognize something of myself in her, younger. The energy, independence, restlessness; the quickness of response, so direct yet somehow elusive, testing, try ing out life. I liked her optimism. She has a quality of motion and sunshine, and underneath a vulnerability. I hope we will be able to expand the relationship, write to each other, even make the correspondence a piece in the future.
Met Jacki Apple today, big surprise. A professional woman, I expected a stringbean like myself. Jolted me to realize women from different circumstances are doing similar experiments with identity. She runs her own design room, draws a pair of pants, chooses a fabric, a pattern cutter cuts it, two Hispanic women sew it up. Her designs on Macy’s third floor, Sportswear. Any way, I was shocked when I saw her: She looked professional all over, eye makeup to high heels. I thought artists weren’t supposed to look like that. A sexist belief, something inherited from Gertrude Stein, a woman has to be un-pretty to be taken as seriously as a man. I"believe" this, questioned Jacki’s intelligence on the basis of her appearance, even though I had read her work, yikes.
I xeroxed all the "Selfportrait" notes and am waiting for an 8x10 enlargement to come back from the drugstore. Now working on an idea sparked by Yvonne Rainer: images of my perfection/deformity. Also a piece about the chemistry of camera presence which came out of our conversation. Drop me a card.
I've been trying to write you for weeks, no — months, and this is the second letter I've started. I came away from the hour we spent together feeling it was much too brief, that we were like two people at a banquet wanting to taste everything, with only enough time for a first bite. So the hour left me stimulated and looking forward to corresponding. Part of my excitement was in discovering another artist, a woman artist, working with concepts similar to my own, and with the attitude of experimentation which is so important to me. Another part of it was your own personal openness and energy and curiosity.
The day your postcard arrived I had gone to the c. 7,500 opeñling at Moore
College in Philadelphia. I have a number of mixed feelings about the show,
and it was an interesting experience for me. One thing which I was surprised
about (and probably shouldn’t have been) was the discovery of how far from
the mainstream both of us are. Your perception of that from the catalogue
was more astute than mine. In the final analysis the work that was most
interesting to me, the work that was not "conventional" or "acceptable" in
its approach, its intent, the work that seemed to attempt to present a
different perception — a female perception through female experience — was
less prevalent than I had hoped. I suppose that my personal criticism was
that much of the work, like much of conceptual art, was boring. It is
amazing how quickly a "Movement" becomes academic. How easy it becomes to
fit into the formula, to make bland ideas appear important, to inflate them
through fancy presentation. So much
I think that what really disappointed me was not the art but seeing other women fall into the male-role prison, women falling into the forms and patterns of male-defined concept art, and wanting acceptance within that framework; women not communicating through their knowledge and experience of them selves as women. Worst of all was seeing women behaving towards each other very much like male artists I see each week in Soho—guarded, competitive, assessing each other, vying for position, not interacting. When we have a chance to do things differently, because we’ve never been in this position before, I hate to see us blow it.
Right now I am working on some new pieces and I am concerned about pushing myself to the next stage, not doing things which are repetitive. Yet I also think it is important to work things through, not be precious, risk losing it, experiment on several levels at one time.
I am interested in how a person changes his/her perception of him/herself through both self redefinition and definition by others. Right now I am considering a piece which will involve a person, then a group, experiencing then reexperiencing them selves through their color aura, their self-color, and then their alien color...
I would like to hear more about the piece you are doing about the "chemistry of camera presence" as it is something that has been both a concern and a conflict for me. Do you plan to do the same piece twice, with and without a camera, and see how they differ?...
Would you be interested in doing a piece with me? Some thoughts, possibilities: (1) Both of us doing the same piece separately. (2) Exchanging pieces and carrying out each other’s pieces, then doing our own. Showing the four interpretations. (3) Perhaps doing my "Identity Exchange" piece together as we are of similar coloring, size, and sign. I have never performed this piece myself. It was enacted by Geoff Hendricks in February 1972 at Rutgers University. If you plan to be in NY we could do it as a one-day event. (Like a Saturday in Soho—unofficial use of galleries!)
I've been taking ballet classes twice a week now since the beginning of July, and it is changing my body awareness. It makes me think about movement pieces. It would be good to work with a dance group.
Write and let me know what you are doing and thinking. I am looking forward to hearing more about the pieces you mentioned in your card, and everything else going on in your life. Let me know when you plan to be in New York again, and hopefully we will be able to spend more time together. I will take a day off.
Dear Jacki — Your letter put adrenalin back into my blood. Actually, I'm an avid letter writer, but I hesitate to write copious letters to non-writers or post-carders; now I have an excuse.
Did I tell you about my "value scale," composed of colors that have emotional value for me? When I read the part of your letter about "color aura" I started glumping around my empty kitchen making soft exclamatory noises. Friday I'm going to a paper company downtown to get a sheet each of high-intensity orange, blue, red and green, the colors that represent the four points on my emotional compass. I was thinking of making calling-card-sized chips of color to place before me as I confront a (stranger? Haven’t worked this out yet) during a ten-minute interval. The number and combination of chips would suggest the tone of the confrontation (for me). As I explained in New York, I used to worry about the content of my subjects' consciousness, but it’s too hard to document it. On the other hand, for the "Chemistry of Camera-Presence" piece, I've decided the only way to keep the element of surprise is for me to surprise other people with a camera; since I am going to set up the piece, I would always be aware of the possibility of being filmed. I want to blow up the adjustment process as an individual realizes s/he is being filmed. Also I want to do a piece next week on videotape recording the time it takes me to act out an emotion. Method actors recall certain images to make themselves cry, etc. I'm not as interested in the tears as I am in the images. These will be written and read silently while I'm on camera (?). I've discovered that reading out loud does not produce tears or whatever, and neither does description into a mike; the intellectual process cancels the emotional experience. Silent fantasy is necessary. I'm wondering what the camera will do to me, since I'm not an experienced actor....
Ihave been taking Graphoanalysis by correspondence, and I am happy to inform you that you are highly intelligent, have initiative, spurts of enthusiasm and determination, don't hold grudges, are sympathetic, not too precise, but were pessimistic when you wrote the letter. Oh, yes, very original, as indicated by figure-8 "g" formations. I am typing because when I get excited, my handwriting becomes code.
Now for the facts: I plan to cut first term a week short and come to NYC. If I came on, say, Monday the 3 of December, could I stay with you through Saturday the 8th? We could use the week to get together a performance in 420 West Broadway such as "Identity Exchange" or we could do our color pieces simultaneously and trade off. I could do a reading of "Routine Performance" et al. in front of an audience instead of a video camera; also I've been wanting to try out "Body Images" on a live audience. I hadn’t thought about it before, but perhaps I could do "Composure," the piece which was in the c. 7,500 show, in front of an audience with the aid of a mirror.
I have been thinking about "Identity Exchange" and (don't worry, I won’t tell you) I can’t help associating New York with you. In your case, I think it is valid to associate place with character; I just hope I don’t make you think of Mackerel....
I’d like to attend a women’s meeting in NYC; a group has finally started meeting here, but for some reason I don’t feel close to anyone as yet. I'm not trying to prove myself as strenuously as I used to through my appearance, as they do. Appearance is stil critical to me, but I'm settled now and they aren’t. Many of them see me as a teacher (which of course I am to some of them) with all the connotations of that position attached: wise, old, reserved, yuk.
Richards met me at the airport; he and Marcia arrived the day before. He guessed that I might sue him, and said I would have to do it, but we reached an amicable peace eventually. We sat in the car for an hour talking, and he ended up saying that he couldn’t believe how strong I was. Last night I didn’t sleep at all and consequently felt rotten all day today, but today I got an apartment which I can move into January 12th. I am envious of the way Richards looks at Marcia, but that's all. I don’t think Marcia is any shakes. She has this defense mechanism, looking wide-eyed, that really annoys me.
Enough of that. I am depressed but doing rather well.... I wrote a movie on the plane. l’II show it to you.
— Chin up and smile. We are all with you all the way. You are going to make it, beautifully too. Whenever you begin to feel the depression closing in, think of the whole world waiting for you here.
I'm exhausted. Can’t wait till you get here. For some reason I've had trouble getting my fire going since the piece. It’s as if so much power was used, such intense concentration, that I need refueling. Talk about an energy crisis! I've also discovered how jealous people can get when you get yourself together, have any power, and can affect others. The threatened ones work very hard at undermining you, searching out your vulnerabilities. No wonder the alchemists banded together in secret societies I worked today, wrote the second half of the piece up (downtown part). Anne has really come out since the piece. She just told her shrink about it this week. He was so turned on that he asked to see me. He can hardly believe it, thought it was the most extraordinary thing he’d ever heard. Should I charge him 540 an hour to talk to me? If he wants to write a paper about it, it will have to be with our final approval and permission before release. After all, we have "all rights reserved."...
Have a lot of things to talk to you about. I hope we can share our strengths and weaknesses and balance each other, and support each other. I need your opinion on a few things...
Stay strong and don’t let R. screw you out of what’s legally yours by doing a number on your emotions.... See you Friday night the 25th. I’ll make a lovely leisurely dinner, and we can sit and relax and talk.
I noticed after the Bar Mitzvah that when I stood on the corner of 57th and 6th Avenue in my braless red dress that lots of people looked at me as though I was a call girl, even though it was 3:00 in the afternoon. Definition by circumstantial evidence. Photographs of me in the same outfit on various corners in NYC: 57th and 6th; West Bway and Spring; Ist Ave and 69th; Wall Street; Bway and 125th. Costume acts as a mirror; bluejeans could do the same?
Two letters from Martha Wilson. She has become intertwined in my life since December, and I ought to examine the events, and the complexities of feelings that have come out of them. I am slightly antagonistic towards her today. Somewhat resentful of her carelessness, her total self-absorption, the complete subjectivity of her way of dealing with things, always seeing through her needs, never beyond them or around them. Perhaps it is her youth, her limited experience. No matter. Combined with all that intense hungry ambition and that fine sharp intellect, it fills me with a vague sense of annoyance. I have been very generous with her, given of myself — my friends, my home, my clothes, my time, my ideas, experiences, knowledge, my food, my energy, and finally advice when asked for. I find her to be less sharing. At first her sunshine smile, her eagerness, seemed so unassuming. But her apologies are aggressive, and her assumptions border on arrogance. Yet underneath there are still the self- degrading gestures, the feelings of inadequacy, the fear. She is full of contradictions, inconsistencies. Overriding everything is the impressive professionalism of her art.... Our relationship seems to have gone around in a full circle. I think we will have to talk about these things.
... Rereading your letter I get the feeling R. and M. are really bugging you underneath the bravado. That is very real, a painful fact you have to deal with daily. It’s understandable. Hard to avoid them. Glad your friends are supportive. Don’t worry. As you’ve begun to discover, facades become realities, and it takes about six months and distance for a lover to become a stranger in your mind.
... I got an assurance that our piece could be shown in the Mezzanine Gallery here at NSCAD, so I will take installation photos when it’s up...
I don’t talk to Richards anymore; we speak if we bump into each other, but don’t seek each other out. I'm speaking to a female lawyer on Tuesday and I may sue Richards if I'm legally capable because he really did step on me. Otherwise I'm dating a concert pianist who lives out in Hubbards. He now plays only to amuse himself and directs plays in experimental theatres and prisons for his living. He knows I'm leaving in May. He says he was first attracted by my independence. Men like that are hard to come by....
I keep my social life full as possible so I don’t have to think about being in Halifax near Richards, etc. I'm going to a shrink who is sending me to relaxation therapy because I don’t know how to relax.... I'll let you know how the layout progresses.
... There are a lot of things I want to get into in relation to the really extraordinary experience that we’ve been through. I don’t think either of us realized just how far we had gone. We placed ourselves in the most vulnerable of positions. As two strangers we entered into immediate and intense intimacy with total trust. We took an enormous gamble. It was very daring of us. And I think we both suffered from aftereffects not anticipated and not immediately perceived or understood. I don’t have the time right now to explore this and I think in another sense it is kind of another piece. Certainly the subject of another part of our piece and worth investigating....
This weekend I worked up my "Brunette" piece. It’s turned up some interesting surprises for me. Perhaps a subconscious equation — Blonde-Female, Brunette-Male (hmmm......) in relation to identity/image projection (mine).
Reading books on Archaeology for the Digging piece in May. Fascinating. Also, I'm enjoying my privacy. Like being alone.
I'm very glad you called me that day as it cleared a lot of conflicts and questions and complex mixed-up feelings all colliding in my head. It relieved a few tensions, and I felt a release of certain anxieties after talking. It was also good to talk with you as the extra dimension in voice clarifies the meaning in words so often misread in print....
... It’s wonderful to hear about L’s interest in the piece. It is so bleak up here, and New York gets more and more frightening to contemplate from this distance. I keep questioning whether I can survive as an artist and get worry wrinkles thinking about it.
Your letter was tremendously supportive. Today I do a videotape of making myself up first as beautiful and then as ugly as I can. I have been thinking a lot about "vomiting" on people; I see this as playing a joke on myself....
I wanted to write to you immediately, as soon as I got back from London, as I am bursting with things to tell you. That was two weeks ago, and my life has been in turmoil, so I am beyond apologies....
First I want to tell you about the c. 7,500 show in London. I called Tony Stokes (at Garage Arts) when I arrived and he seemed very relieved that I was there. On Saturday morning I went down to Garage and then with the help of a terrific group of London women artists I installed the show in the Warehouse next door. It was a perfect space for the show. Very New York raw! I must say I did a fantastic job. Did two terrific walls for us, put ting our work next to each other’s. Added the B&W contact sheet from "Transformance" with your article in the middle. It really looked good....
I have been going through some fairly difficult changes and conflicts. I long for my own psychic space, room to grow in, to experience my art in. The time has run out for me to continue in the double life of full-time work (job) and full-time art. I am exhausted, overstrained, and colliding with myself, struggling with hostilities and overextension emotionally. I don’t have enough time and I feel like I'm suffocating from spinning too quickly and not being able to slow down to breathe deeply...
Not having money is as paralyzing as not having time. They equalize and neutralize each other. Besides, earning one’s own money is part of both the real and psychological independence and liberation from the role of the woman-child. So I have to search for alternative possibilities. This is especially difficult now because the economy is a disaster area. There are no jobs any where.
I am at a point of change in my life, trying to create new structures. The piece we did together was a culmination point for me, the end of a cycle.... I find myself looking into another mirror, seeing a different image.
The DIGGING piece has become very complex and multi-layered. It is just a beginning now, and it might take months to complete. The actual "dig" itself will take place in several weeks. When I think about it I get very excited, like someone about to take a journey into unknown territory, like going to a foreign city after having read a book about its history.... It will be good to see you and sit and talk for hours.
Also it will be interesting to do a tape about the other part of TRANSFORMANCE —what we experienced with each other, the risks we took, how far we went, how we reacted later, overreacted, then rebalanced; where we are now. We plunged into each other’s lives off a high diving board. We went very deep, very quickly, and perhaps suffered the mild bends coming up for air. It could be a very important tape to go with the piece. Also maybe a photo of us today, six months later. Call me when you get to New Jersey....
Taking diet pills, haven’t slept in 2 nights. Cried on bus w/ Marcia, talking about Primal Scream and ego-coasting, being alone. She said R was unoriginal, I was the "individual" which shocked me. She sees me as courageous, she said in her letter to me, envies me. I love speed, it relieves the panic, the separation, substitutes euphoria, wholeness? I wish I could stay on it. Have lost some double chin. Dinner tonight with R and Marcia. Sat with R yesterday watching John Watt tapes, didn’t feel much. I admire him from a distance. I plan to break down in the car tonight, tell him I am alone, afraid. He is my father substitute because of his aloofness. I should be doing something all the time, can’t do fruitless activity.
Kicked and screamed w/ R last night, he said there was no sense pretending he wasn’t happy. I saw that he was. I felt very hurt, cried a lot over loss of children, middle-class life which his marriage to Marcia represents to me. I can’t do that now? Now I'm in the kitchen and I feel lethargic, desperate, speechless, embarrassed, like being at home. I have to be intellectual around him. Isnap at Damian, can’t play, indulge him. Had a dream that I stayed in the room below them. I am a frustrated child and I communicate that frustration to Damian, I frustrate him. I don't let myself feel. Ate cheesecake out of the fridge this a.m. R represents home situation which I am trying to resolve. I feel like I have to perform for him. He came in to ask what my plans were and for a split second I felt guilty? Not a barrel of fun to be with. Have to learn to love myself, whatever that means. Art about performing for others. Double exposure = "Exposure
My emotions are frozen. I am frightened, not attracted to men. Metaphor, describe my parents as luggage. I do what they and authorities say because I am afraid they will not love me.
Feel generally OK. Felt good to see Jacki last night. Saw Nancy Kitchel show at 112 Greene St. which put me in awe.
Darkness, "masking," lit tables, notebooks, folders for papers. Her involvement with Vito, a story about tragic encounter, her grandmother’s gestures. Talked w/ (Jane) Kleinberg at Whitney about how women are making art about separation. I fantasize about my loft. I discover who I am as I go along. "Borders occurs to me. I will take photos of rooms during search. I'm tired Art about not knowing how I feel about things. Accept, discard. Divide objects. Retouched photos of how I want things to appear. How much are we defined by our surroundings. Deprived of middle-class life. Photograph the fantasy. Marcia and I occupy the same space in relation to R, but opposite sides of a single personality pulled in two directions. Forced into a position. Men = authority figures, never women. Dad wanted me to pity him, told me he was nearly out of a job. Apparently she is ambitious, an egomaniac, a blood-curdling bitch. She uses people, squeezes them dry, dumps them. Actually, she’s sensitive, retiring, sweet-tempered.
I used to feel like women were the "enemy," men were my best friends. Then I didn’t have any respect for myself, treated them like authorities to please. Now I feel more comfortable with women, even have a distaste for men. I look at attractive men on the subway and experience revulsion. Dad made me afraid of him to cover his weakness. Sylvia Plath got at that real hatred every one feels for his/her parents. For how they have hurt you. Trembling hands, my own fear of incompetence. Videotape of a simple task, hands hammering nails. Unfamiliar, incompetent, bad craftsman, danger, "hammering." Stuttering videotape, head w/ eyes closed, Mother & Dad dialogue of unsaid phrases.
Martha and I have lunch at the Plaza Palm Court. Reprise An attempt to reexamine, redefine "Claudia" (TRANSFORMANCE). Same setting, shift in context, intent. We want to see how we feel, how we act. The mystique dissolves. It is, after all, like having lunch any other place. Just a restaurant....
Over too expensive spinach salad we pursue the question of female sensibility, questioning whether women artists have become caught in a web of confusion between subject matter and "sensibility. Often they choose objects, acts and symbols associated with the stereotypes of the female role in our culture as content, when they are in fact the objects and conditions created by male sensibility and value systems. Do too many women artists perpetuate the "system" by attempting to elevate a certain kind of subject matter out of proportion to its significance? On the other hand, liberation declaring equality continues to enforce the concept of there being no female sensibility. "Anything they can do we can do as well if not better" thinking. In the struggle to achieve power and position in the art world we charge forth into battle to prove this, and the result, which is often successful, is also often indistinguishable from the acclaimed and established art created by a male sensibility. Again we reenforce their system, their concept of reality. Perhaps the only answer, at least the only one we can come up with, is to work through an internal view coming from our female experience of reality (or lack of it!), and that out of this will come some alternative perspectives that also do not end up putting us all together in yet another box. Still the same old questions go round in a circle. Cultural conditioning and biology. Well, how do we change the patterns of the conditioning, making our viewpoint carry equal weight? "Claudia was a magnification of role models and stereotypes of power, media images programmed into all of us. The "power" of the beautiful, rich woman. The illusion of power. We exaggerated it, "lived" in order to also shatter it, expose the illusion, blow it up not reenforce it, or validate it. It’s a fine line, a delicate balance of form and content, intent and context. Both Martha and I have all kinds of ambivalences about that work and whether it worked. In two years perhaps we will be able to see it in the right perspective, with the distance to analyze it better, understand it in relation to female sensibility and art.
Martha Wilson, performance artist, began executing private performances or "transformations" in 1971. In 1975 and 1976, she performed five chap ters of The Arnotated Alice in which the heroine encounters contemporary conventions —social, sexual, logical and linguistic. Jacki Apple began doing performances in 1971. Since 1975 she has been doing installation works exploring psychological space. She and Martine Aballea are writing a collaborative novel between New York and Paris. Martha is the founder and executive director of The Franklin Furnace Archive for artists’ books in New York City, and Jacki is its curator.