A new film documentary, Fatal Promises directed by Kat Rohrer, will be screening from September 16^th – September 24^th at the Cinema Village in Manhattan. Rohrer partnered with her mother, Anneliese Rohrer, a 30-year veteran of Austrian journalism, to examine the various facets of human trafficking. The film, four years in the making, follows the stories of five people – three women and two men. They relate how they were lured by promises of employment, and lacking opportunities sought job solutions abroad. Their harrowing nightmares ended in relief brought about by rescue or through escape. Their personal narratives fulfill the need to put a face to an issue that is perceived as overwhelming. As Gloria Steinem points out in her on-camera comments, “What we need are stories.”

In tandem with these visceral accounts are interviews with activists, government officials, and legislators. Antonio Maria Costa, Executive Director of UNODC, discusses the “moral imperative” of getting human trafficking on the political agenda positing that the world is “dismissing [a] tragedy of enormous dimension.”

The culmination of a seven-year effort to push through legislation that became the New York State Anti-Trafficking Law is shown as Eliot Spitzer signs the bill into law. The follow up scene is his resignation as Governor, after being exposed as a patron of a prostitution service. The juxtaposition exemplifies the dichotomies in a culture that is rife with contradictions and subtexts about sex.

Prominently featured in Fatal Promises is actress and activist Emma Thompson. In addition to making powerful public service announcements, Thompson is the co-curator (with Elena, a trafficking survivor), of the interactive art installation Journey. The work puts the viewer directly into the experience of a sexually trafficked woman. Journey traveled to Vienna, where it was showcased outside the 2008 U.N. Global Initiative to Fight Trafficking conference. There is a mordant episode in the documentary conveying the limitations of the U.N. gathering where 2,000 “official” participants are meeting. The price tag of the four days comes to a cool $2,9000,000. It is noted that the conference was “proudly” sponsored by the United Arab Emirates – a country that is listed with the United States Department of State as being on the “Tier 2 Watch List” of nations (The tier structure is examined through one of the film’s interviews.).

A frustrated Thompson speaking on-camera asks, “What is the point of us all traveling to Vienna if we haven’t got a plan?” While recruitment is accomplished on a person-to-person basis and individuals are translated into goods and services, corruption is rampant – from law enforcement officials to the visa process. Thompson emphasizes, “There needs to be a real chain of decision, command, and action.”

While Thompson was in New York City to attend previews of Fatal Promises, I was able to interview her via proxy. Below are excerpts from the conversation:

What are the plans for the installation of Journey in New York City and America?

“The plan is that we bring Journey over to New York on November the 9^th until November 16^th. I’m not entirely sure where it will be yet, because we haven’t yet chosen our site. But it means that it will be sitting there open to the public all of that time and I will be there, and Helen (Helen Bamber Foundation) will be there, and Michael Korzinski, the other director of the foundation, will be there. It [Journey] is immensely expensive to travel, so we’re hoping that we can get help from Homeland Security to take it to Washington next. That’s what we’re hoping for.”

Do you see the film and art installation as having potential to make the problem of human trafficking more visceral and of higher visibility?

“Of course, yes. I mean this is one of those problems that is going to have to be spoken about and talked about and shouted about for a long time to come. We’re not going to be bashing this out of existence just by producing a film and an installation. But what we can do is start to make it very clear that there is a big problem. The film is fantastically well researched and very interesting, and put together in such a way that you don’t feel as though you are being sort of hammered. You can really take in the information and walk away with it. It’s very cleverly done. The installation is an art installation, so it is a completely different kind of experience. But the two things together are pretty effective. After that, you know a lot…and you can go and get on and do something.”

You have become an activist in this cause, but your frustration with the Vienna Forum was quite apparent. As you asked, “What is the point of us all traveling to Vienna if we haven’t got a plan?” Can you speak to the difference between the on-the-ground realities and the world of diplomats and legislation?

“The world of diplomats and legislation is a highly bureaucratized, very slow moving thing – a bit like a glacier. Diplomats, and certainly home office civil servants and that type of personnel, are famously unbudgeable. So they’re the people I want to come to the installation, because it’s very important for people who work within the civil sector of society to see what’s going on and connect with it in a visceral way, rather than just receiving facts. There is a huge disconnect between what is understood by persons in authority, about trafficking, and what actually occurs to people. It is getting better, but it is very, very slow. As for what politicians really understand about it? Unless they’ve made it a particular interest, it is not something I’ve found people to be very informed about at all…at all. So at the moment it is an issue that I think is very much sidelined and not put at the top of any agendas, which I think reflects very ill upon us. I think that to start the 21^st century with a huge new slave trade flourishing does not reflect well on any of our governments. I mean, it is absolutely appalling that we have allowed this to happen – because we have allowed this to happen. We knew this was happening a long time ago and we didn’t take steps. We didn’t inform, we didn’t think to ourselves, ‘Oh, women are being bought and sold. What does that mean? I wonder if that means they are commodified. And what do we do about that?’ There’s been no rhetoric about that. There’s been no discussion even. It’s as though because prostitution is the oldest profession – blah, blah, blah – everyone thinks, ‘Oh, well. This is just another manifestation of that.’ And it’s not. It’s something quite else. It’s a new slave trade.”

How do you respond to the irony that the conference was sponsored by the UAE, when they are on the list of offenders?

“Well, you know, people will take money from anyone! (hearty laugh) The U.N. has become its own worse enemy. I think it’s bedeviled by bureaucracy. I think it’s been declawed in every conceivable way. And I think in its corridors misogyny holds tremendous sway – at least that’s what I’ve witnessed…I know what the problems are. Again, that’s a question of self-examination for the U.N. to say, ‘What can we do to become more effective?’”

Is part of the problem that anti-trafficking activists are on a continuum, and they don’t agree with each other on core beliefs and strategies?

“Sure. All NGO’s are on collision courses because they all need money, and they all need money from the same sources…In relation to prostitution or not prostitution, that’s a whole debate of its own. And it is of course connected, because what this is also about is our relationship to sex. Which is something we’re going to have to start talking about much, much more honestly and in much greater detail… We’ve got to find out why we have a huge customer base for this service. Why? What’s going on? What is it about us at the moment that makes us so keen to buy people? Those questions must be asked. As for prostitution or not prostitution – and everyone takes a view – it doesn’t really make any difference to the customer whether a woman has chosen to be a prostitute or not. So it’s not necessarily going to change the customer. And it’s certainly not going to change the experience of a trafficked person whether prostitution is legal or not in their country. So it’s not a question of saying legalize it all and that will make them safer because that does not work, actually. Prostitution is legal in Austria. Prostitution is legal in Holland. And in Amsterdam, they have one of the worst problems with trafficking imaginable. It’s just awful. So legalizing doesn’t necessarily stop trafficking…But in relation to this particular slave trade that is going on, the buying of people and selling of people, it doesn’t really matter whether you believe prostitution should be legalized or not. You’ve got to get behind a movement that stops people being sold for whatever reason they’re going to be sold. I think that’s probably where I stand on it.”

When I contacted Kat Rohrer by e-mail for a statement about the goals of her documentary she responded, “My film is about the survivors’ stories. I want the public to hear their anger. Their voices are too seldom heard on an international, or even local, platform. It is precisely because I understand that the world community is faced with a myriad of seemingly never-ending issues – from economic and environmental disasters to hunger and war – that I spent four years making this film. Human trafficking is modern-day slavery. To ignore it is to ignore our humanity. How can we, as a conscientious society, tolerate slavery in 21st century? Simply put, we cannot, we must not.”

Rohrer will be partnering with anti-trafficking organizations including Equality Now, Nomi Network, History Starts Now, CATW and NOW to get wider visibility for the topic. Panel discussions are going on throughout the film’s run, and plans are in the works to take the documentary to universities nationwide. There will be a DVD available in future.

Those who have been “bought, sold, and discarded” will finally have listeners.

Photo courtesy of GreenKat Productions

In the same time frame, WACK! Art and the Feminist Revolution, curated by Connie Butler, had been mounted in Los Angeles. The Feminist Art Project was up and running. The Museum of Modern Art in New York got in on the act with “The Feminist Future” symposium, an event that was a microcosm of mixed emotions. Attitudes encompassed astonishment that the Museum was having the event, questions about why people cared about receiving MoMA’s validation, references to how the movement still lacked diversity, and comments at the open mics from 70s pioneers who felt persistently overlooked.

Art movements, like their political siblings, are messy. People don’t agree, groups splinter, and history is up for grabs. The conversation on who owns Feminist Art History was in full swing at Independent Visions/Feminist Perspectives at The Sidney Mishkin Gallery – Baruch College, held at the end of 2008. The exhibition, curated by Dr. Sandra Kraskin, sought to present works that “while broadly feminist, is neither didactic nor loaded with female imagery.” Kraskin’s stated goal was to focus on women who were not formally connected with the women’s organizations that sprang up in the late 60s and 70s.

One of the exhibiting artists, Nina Yankowitz, had set up an ongoing slide presentation. It was geared to addressing the need for a database, which would serve as a strict historical examination on producing female artists of that time frame. The need, as Yankowitz sees it, is for an examination and understanding that would constitute a “true survey” as opposed to a “reconstructionist” one. Yankowitz has been advocating to “widen the frame,” hoping to draw notice to those artists who referenced feminist ideals, but were not employing the feminist “methodology” that has become identified as the “70s brand.” That iconography was strongly embedded in the revival and affirmation of “craft,” and the overt use of body imagery.

Yankowitz maintains that “there is room for many voices, and they should all be heard.” She lamented that numerous women had been written out by the younger generation, and stressed her commitment to an overview from a factual stance. She believes that an institution could host such a resource, with the focal point being to put forth examples of abstract, representational, performance, street, and sound art.

This strong desire for women to be paid their due was reflected in Yankowitz’s contribution to the Baruch exhibit. Her piece, entitled “Buried Treasures/Secrets in the Sciences” was qualified by Kraskin as “reclamation of the contributions of women scientists through the ages, women whose work has gone unacknowledged, sometimes for centuries.” The parallel to omissions in the art world could not have been more overt.

Kraskin spoke to me at length about her motivation for the show. Having started her career as an artist (she was a founding member of WARM in Minneapolis), Kraskin shifted to the Ph.D. track, teaching art history before taking her post at Baruch in 1989. “My experience as a painter gave me a comprehensive perspective,” she explained.

There was a concern for Kraskin that “younger curators and artists were getting the wrong impression.” She said, “I wanted to do a show of feminist art that didn’t look typical — and not just eliminate whole chunks of the movement.” Kraskin made the observation that “the paradigm should not leave out abstract art.” She added wryly, “Men don’t own rectangles.”

Writing about the exhibit, Kraskin stated, “A dozen contemporary artists are presented in this exhibition of women whose work, while broadly feminist, is neither didactic nor loaded with female imagery.” Discussing her mission, Kraskin clarified, “I wanted to reclaim a section of feminist art of the 70s I thought was being left out.” Enumerating the motifs that are popularly associated with the Feminist Art movement, it was impossible not to touch on Judy Chicago. “I think Judy did something for the movement,” Kraskin confirmed, “but it was just a small part of what was going on.” She echoed Yankowitz’s concern about how women’s art history was going to be archived. “The Sackler Center put women in the news, and the main part of that was Judy Chicago. The Dinner Party (1974-1979) was important, but it was only a part.” Kraskin questioned how the feminist art movement would be documented in history.

Needless to say, there is a lot of contention about that. Kraskin believes that because it was such an important movement and it did change the art world, it is essential to reexamine. “I don’t remember the 60s and 70s being like the shows I am seeing now,” she said. The feedback she got on Independent Visions/Feminist Perspectives reinforced how complicated the issues are. Visitors would point to an artist in the show and say, “She wasn’t part of the women’s movement.” Kraskin also found herself fielding inquiries about why there were pieces about science included.

During my conversation with Kraskin, she repeatedly mentioned Elizabeth Murray, whom she believes did “more for women artists than anyone.” Murray, viewed as a mainstream artist, was one of five women to have a retrospective exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art. Kraskin referred to how she had successfully blended abstraction with the use of “domestic images.”

During the Baruch opening, people gathered around Yankowitz’s slide show, celebrating the work of many that has receded from view. When interviewed, Martha Wilson, Founding Director of Franklin Furnace, said, “The Sackler Center’s installation of Judy Chicago suggests that all feminisms popped out of the vagina of The Dinner Party. But we feminists out there don’t believe that is the case, and this show makes it clear that feminism is a big tent.”

Participating artist Cynthia Eardley told me, “What Sandy [Kraskin] has done here is very important. In the late 60s and early 70s, feminist artists were dealing with a wider range of materials, concerns, and issues than one might suppose.”

Since the Sackler Center and Chicago’s mixed-media installation were a lightning rod for so much discourse, I contacted the Brooklyn Museum‘s Deputy Director for Art, Charles Desmarais, for his reaction. “The Chicago piece would be at the center of the Sackler Center, due to its sheer size. But remember that the work was a huge collaborative effort; Judy designed it, but hundreds of women contributed to it. It is a real symbol of collaboration. And, of course, there are alternative views in other galleries.” He referenced the exhibition, Burning Down the House, which he said “presented a great many views of feminist art and feminism.”

Desmarais pointed out that the EASCFA was “still fairly new” and that as it evolved, so would a continuum of perspectives. Desmarais said that there are plans to establish a Feminist Art Base. “We recognize the need and are committed to it,” he said. The new curator, Catherine J. Morris, will put the specifics for the submissions process in place.

As outlined by Desmarais, “The Sackler Center is an art center, but art is connected to the rest of the world. The range of programs that are put on deal with social and political issues, help extend our understanding of Feminist Art.”

Considering that the feminist art movement was part of a larger awareness, that concept is a positive confluence of factors. Or as Yankowitz has pointed out, “It’s not that one voice is better than another.”

This article originally appeared on the website cultureID.

Along with other campaign literature, the flyer Barack Obama: A Champion For the Arts was available.  It referenced how as an author of two books, Obama understood and appreciated “the role and value of creative expression.”  I was delighted to read that Obama believes that an arts education “should be a central part of effective teaching and learning.”  Efforts to achieve these goals would include developing public and private partnerships between schools and arts organizations, as well as implementing an “Artists Corps” trained to work in low-income academic facilities.

Acknowledging that current funding for the NEA has diminished to $125 million from the $175 million allotted in 1992, Obama is in favor of an increase in financial support to this independent agency of the federal government.

The part of the platform which included enlisting the country’s talent as “artistic ambassadors” to promote a cultural exchange, struck me as a breath of fresh air.  In addition, the premise of making America a premier destination for foreign artists to visit and study showed insight.  Helping to break down the barriers between diverse cultures can only be a step in the right direction.

While health care is a major concern for the country at large, it is particularly problematic for those in the creative fields. Working outside the traditional employment archetype, they are left to scramble. Obama’s coverage plan includes “a new public program that will allow individuals to buy affordable health care, similar to that available to federal employees.”

Not surprisingly, Obama has teamed up with endorser Sen. Patrick Leahy to back Leahy’s H.R. 1524 Artist-Museum Partnership Act.  This long overdue legislation amends the inequity of permitting artists to deduct only the costs of their materials when making a charitable contribution of their work, rather than the fair market value.

While people milled around, talking and looking at the exhibit, I had the chance to engage in conversation.  The woman sitting next to me described herself as a 61-year-old art advisor.  She told me that she was a registered Republican who was voting for Clinton.  “My generation has fought so hard for women’s right’s rights that there is no way I won’t vote for her,” she said.  Her male companion was supporting Obama.

The organizing artists Janice Caswell, Susan Jennings, and Alexander Ross had lined up an impressive roster of speakers to expound upon why they were supporting Obama. Peter Schjeldahl, critic for The New Yorker, was up first.  He seemed a bit nervous being in front of a crowd, rather than expressing his ideas through the medium of print.  His opening remark was, “This is weird.  I’m making a political speech for the first time in my life.”  Once he got past that admission and launched into his feelings about Obama, he easily hit his stride.  “There’s a quality about him,” he said,  “I want to call Obama music.  Everytime you hear Obama say a line again, it becomes deeper.”  He paused.  “Change is uncertainty.  It never comes with guarantees.  This is not about him, it is about us.”  Looking out at the audience, he asked, “Are you ready?”

Laura Hoptman, Senior Curator at the New Museum of Contemporary Art reflected on how her work has informed her political view.  “I look at things and their place in history.”  With an eye toward a new era, she noted, “Visual culture has played such a small part in the past three administrations.”

New York Magazine art columnist Jerry Saltz (previously the critic for The Village Voice) connected to the audience using a different approach. With a nod to the gallery environment, his delivery could almost be qualified as performance art.  He held up a photograph of himself with Bill Clinton, and did a riff on the story behind the picture.  Like a comedian working the room he declared, “I don’t want to go anti-anything!”  After a few beats he continued, “Hillary is like MOMA (The Museum of Modern Art).  It’s big, it’s beautiful, it’s where we come from.  But it’s the status quo.”  The group waited for the second part of the analogy.  “Obama is The New Museum and The Studio Museum…something audacious.  In electing Obama,” he reasoned, “in one second it changes everything.”  He shook his head and added, “It’s too important.”  When I spoke to him later to get his reaction on Obama’s backing of the Leahy bill, Saltz said, “I’m not even thinking about the art world.  It’s bigger than that.”

Matthew Ritchie, the British artist who was tagged by Time Magazine as one of “100 Innovators of the Next Millennium,” informed the listeners that, “If Obama becomes President, I will become a US citizen.”  He used the “p” word that I had been hearing so frequently from Obama advocates.  “It’s very personal,” he said.  “Something more is at stake.  People tell me, ‘He’s not the pragmatic choice.  You’re a dreamer.’  But I think Obama can beat McCain.  The whole world is waiting for the United States to come back.”  Injecting an edge of realism Ritchie acknowledged, “I don’t expect him not to make mistakes.  I expect him to make new ones.”

Co-Chair of The Obama for American Arts Policy Committee and renowned Broadway producer Margo Lion, (Hairspray, Angels in America) gave a passionate talk emanating from a visceral point of view.  “I know Barack,” she declared.  “I met him at a fundraiser.”  Discussing the candidate’s impact on followers, she qualified, “He is filling an enormous need.  The emotional investment in this man is huge.  We are projecting our need onto him.”  She concluded, “Barack Obama always tells the truth.  This is the guy we need to fill the gap.  I promise you, this guy is the real thing.”

Her comments were met with applause.  Not everyone there had decided how they were going to cast their vote, but there seemed to be a consensus about the urgency and imperative to “move the country in a different direction.”

Before leaving, I had the chance to ask some follow-up questions.  In talking with Lion she told me, “I want someone who can restore our faith in ourselves.” Schjeldahl asked and answered his own query, “Is Barack Obama ready to be President?  I think so.”  Then he added, “One thing I’m damn sure of.  We’re ready.”

Thirty-seven years later at the Von Lintel Gallery in New York City, gallery director Collette Blanchard has organized an exhibition examining how African-Americans are represented in popular culture.  Painting, drawings, sculpture, photography, video, and installation are the mediums employed.  Running concurrent to the Kara Walker retrospective at the Whitney Museum of Art, this show allows the public to experience the work of fourteen African-American artists, thereby giving exposure to different perspectives that widen the discussion about “black imagery.”

The co-opting of “minority cultures” and “outsider” groups is an entrenched element of the American pop culture machine. Stereotypical attributes are used to sell and entertain the majority, at the expense of the “other.” Native American ethnicity is tapped for sports logos and team names, Hispanic-accented voices are teamed with Chihuahuas for fast-food ads, a team of gay men straighten out a straight guy…the history is long and continuous.

In the gallery’s Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song, the individual artists put their spin on how African-American culture has been appropriated. The extent to which the average American has become acclimated to these circumstances is revealed in a lack of awareness about how off this “reality” really is.

It should be noted that in the art sphere, there is a paucity of people of color in the decision-making roles of gallerist, curator, and museum personnel.  For her part, Blanchard seeks to challenge the observer to examine “their preconceived ideas” and to “stimulate a conversation.”

Titus Kaphar gets the ball rolling with his painting,  I still don’t know how or why it ended like this – but it all began when one of the older women called her blackness into question. Based on the Anthony van Dyck painting of 1623, Portrait of Marchesa Balbi, Kaphar uses the context of historical paintings to probe contemporary issues and concerns.  The bottom three-quarters of the canvas has been obliterated by a coat of tar, with droplets on the gallery floor adding to the sense of immediacy.  Questions abound.  Did Kaphar paint a complete picture and then black most of it out?  Why the choice of tar rather than paint?  The term tar baby…with all of its loaded implications; the history of tar and feathering…with the specter of mob violence, are two of the associations that come to mind.

Mickalene Thomas and Ifétayo Abdus-Salam undertake a reclamation of the black female body and attendant concerns. They accomplish this through their questioning of idealized beauty norms, sexuality, and the images that are put forth to portray black female celebrity.

Michael Paul Britto and Renee Cox exemplify how Madison Avenue and Hollywood have embedded racial metaphors into the collective consciousness.  Britto assesses the minstrel tradition and the subliminal messages it has imparted to our country’s psyche. In his digital video sculpture I Need What You Got, played out on dual monitors, he uses the 1930’s icon Shirley Temple to delve into the ramifications of the “blackface” tradition.  On the left monitor he features Shirley Temple in a black and white clip. She is wearing blackface, a bandana, and makes exaggerated facial expressions while shaking her head.  On the right monitor, the prototypical “Topsy” character is shown, vigorously powdering her face until she is totally white. The sequence is culled from the 1903 silent film version of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, where ironically all the major characters were played by white actors in blackface. Both are placed in speech bubbles.  In the second set of images, Shirley Temple and Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, rendered in delicately colored thought bubbles, face off in gestures of “shame on you.”  Their true inner emotions reflect the conflict of identity issues.

Cox, who went head to head with former Mayor Rudolph Giuliani over her painting Yo Mama’s Last Supper, presents The Liberation of Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben. She reconstructs the use of archetypes as food branding in her 48” x 60” mounted archival photographic print. Using a backdrop of Aunt Jemima Pancake/Waffle Mix (albeit one with a “modern” model and not the kerchief-wearing Mammy) and Uncle Ben’s Brown Rice boxes, Cox superimposes three powerfully built, real-life black superheroes.  The central female figure stares straight out at the viewer; her male and female companions look upwards.  Their arms are linked in solidarity.

Hank Willis Thomas contributes Petey Wheatstraw: The Devil’s Son-In-Law. The work is from a series of photographs entitled “Unbranded: Reflections in Black by Corporate America.”  The title of the piece references a 1977 movie in which the pictured black male played the lead role. The name of another film this actor appeared in is the basis of a word-play tag line for a product’s ad campaign.  Yet after Thomas extracts the company’s logo, sales pitch, and copy content, what is left is a stripped down image that asks as much as it tells.  For potential consumers of the merchandise, who may have no idea who this man is or how he contributed to a film genre over a quarter of a century ago, how does the photograph read?  For those not in on the joke, what does it mean?  It is a caricature in a vacuum, cut off from its own history.

Through Blanchard’s intuitive installation, the various works interact and comment on each other.  Artists riff on their own experiences, creating counterpoints while stating their specific point of view.  It’s not a final answer, but it is the beginning of a much-needed discourse.

The mind-set of the 1970’s, which was formed by the politics of that era, is gone.  Yet there are signs that the rebirth of activism is on the horizon. Propelled by the dismal world situation, fertile ground for the regeneration of the socially concerned artist is ready and waiting.

Observing the scene at the Visual AIDS 10^th Annual Postcards from the Edge benefit gave me encouragement that the “other side of the art world,” the one that showcases community, is alive and kicking.  Hosted by the James Cohan Gallery in Chelsea (epicenter of gallery chic), a preview party with admission cover, but free to participating artists, was jammed.

Approximately 1600 original works on paper measuring 4” x 6” were mounted in rows on the gallery walls.  All the pieces were displayed in egalitarian fashion, unidentified.  The list of contributors was readily available. However, the goal was to have people look at the images without reference to who the artist was, thereby focusing on the aesthetic connection to the work.  It made me wonder how the statistics would be different if galleries engaged in a blind selection process, uninfluenced by gender, race, or age.  I did overhear one person involved in the parlor game of  “Did you find the one by Kiki Smith?” but overall, I saw a lot of gratified artists. In this open show, every one who donated work was exhibited. They understood the cause.  As one artist explained to me, “I was affected by the loss of someone I cared deeply about.  This gives me the opportunity to support a crucial issue.”

Amy Sadao, Executive Director of Visual AIDS, commented on the subtext of the evening.  Postcards From the Edge is “a radically democratic show,” she said. Her reflections on the exhibit raised several interesting questions including, “Who gets to show in public institutions?” “What work is important for us to see now?”  “Who qualifies the work?”  The evening was beneficial to both artists and buyers.  Sadao explained that in purchasing these small-scale artworks, it was a “possible way to start a collection.”  Postcards From the Edge has made it on to the radar of collectors who target works on paper in smaller dimensions. Sadao told me that many buyers include artists, and that “now and then you get a gallerist.”  She clearly conveyed a concern with helping to create a dialogue that might potentially forge career relationships.

Cards were $75 each, and 100% of the price went to supporting the Visual AIDS programs. The first day for sales was Saturday, December 1^st, World Aids Day.  Nelson Santos, Assistant Director, confirmed on December 5^th that the final count wasn’t determined, but that “at least two-thirds of the cards were sold” and that it had been the “most successful event” to date.

Visual AIDS states its mission as “working to increase public awareness of AIDS through the visual arts…working in partnership with artists, galleries, museums and AIDS organizations.”  Originally founded in 1988 to mobilize the arts population in reaction to the devastation of AIDS, it has evolved into a potent force.  It’s original premise of a Day With(out) Art, spoke to the power of art…which is often overlooked. One of its ongoing activities is the Frank Moore Archive Project. This slide bank documents the work of HIV-positive artists, as well as that from the estates of artists who have died of AIDS.

Without question, there is an established art machine that isn’t going to change.  Too many interests are well served.  But there is plenty of room for artists, operating as individuals or in groups, to strive to make a difference.  Most of them will have to keep their day jobs, but at least they will be on the road to participating in effecting change.

The symposium, “The Feminist Future: Theory and Practice in the Visual Arts,” January 26 to 27, proclaimed a new era while dealing with many of the concerns debated among women in other fields. How do you engage different generations in dialogue? Is the term “feminist” obsolete? Amid advances, why do so many feel overlooked?

Writer and activist Lucy R. Lippard, the keynote speaker, emphasized “art made as part of a larger social movement,” a theme she has explored for 30 years. Performance artist Coco Fusco echoed the theme in a presentation that captured how visceral dynamic art can be. Dressed in camouflage fatigues and as serious as she was ironic, Fusco presented herself as a United States military figure conducting a briefing. She raised such disparate issues as the parallels between structures in the military and the art worlds and women identifying with conservative forms of power.

Specifically addressing the role of women in the Abu Ghraib torture and interrogation setting, Fusco spotlighted how some women have co-opted the position of “victimizer.” During ample question and discussion periods, audience members embraced the dialogue. A graduate student from Iran challenged the North American point of view that portrayed women of other cultures as “victims,” and expressed her frustration with the “disconnect” of such perceptions. Others confronted the lack of diversity at a symposium where women of color were barely visible.

Carrie Lambert-Beatty took up the theme of the interplay between activism and art when she described the Women on Waves project, in which the Dutch organization operates an abortion clinic on board its ship, the Borndiep. Traveling to ports in countries that ban abortion—Ireland and Poland, but they were blocked in Portugal—the ship’s crew transported women 12 miles out to international waters to legally perform the procedure. Through installation and documentation of such projects, Lambert-Beatty argued, a new political art is being formulated.

In a conversation about the need to restructure cultural hierarchies while defying the market place, two of the founding Guerilla Girls — the “feminist masked avengers” who picketed MoMA in 1965 — found themselves fielding the query, “What do you do when the system that you have criticized embraces you?” Often during discussion periods, women instrumental in contributing to the discourse of the 70s and 80s expressed concern with a lack of documentation and appreciation for their contributions. Favoring statement over query, they focused the groups’ attention on exhibits, projects, and agendas that fall by the wayside.

In her closing response, art historian Linda Nochlin addressed these concerns, asking, “How do we bring our voices into the cultural mainstream?” Nochlin—who wrote the iconic 1971 article, “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?”—has co-curated an exhibition, Global Feminisms,that will debut at the new Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art at the Brooklyn Museum. Opening in March 2007, one of the galleries will be the new permanent home of Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party.

That, in itself, is progress.

This article originally appeared on the Women’s Media Center website.