Review of Judy Chicago's "The Dinner Party" at the Brooklyn Museum
Let’s first lay down some highlights of the artist’s achievements for the feminist cause: Judy Chicago (American, born 1939) was one of the pioneers of the feminist art movement in the 70’s, a major figure that directly challenged the marginalization of women in the art world. Not only did she pave the way for forging a new female creative language through her own visual works, according to Norma Broude and Mary D. Garrard, Chicago, along with Miriam Schapiro, was one of “the first people to theorize and develop a form of education in the visual arts based on feminism,” through the Feminist Art Program at CalArts and Womanhouse (66). In an interview with Broude and Garrard, Chicago claims that her idea of feminist extends beyond gender, as “a set of principles, and a way of looking at the world that... is rooted in a redefinition of power—from power over others to empowerment,” an effort to escape from the oppression enforced by “the patriarchal paradigm” (72, 73). In terms of her art, this means discovering “a new language, which finally showed [her] the social circumstances of [her] female condition;” in terms of her pedagogical methods, this means “doing remedial education, and, also, providing them with information about their history as women” (74, 67).
Having acknowledged her contribution to making the art world a more friendly place for women, let us proceed to look at the actual work, The Dinner Party. The work first premiered in San Francisco, 1979, and took five years to complete. It is essentially a very elaborate ceremonial banquet for 1,038 women in history, 39 of whom are privileged with personalized place settings (though most are all just varying depictions of the same flowery vagina/”butterfly”), and 999 of whose existences are noted by their names inscribed in gold on the floor tiles. Chicago has hung six entry banners leading into the triangular banquet room that sound intentionally (but also embarrassingly) Biblical:
And she gathered all before her
And she made for them a sign to see [a triangle, that supposedly signifies equality]
And lo they saw a vision
From this day forth like to like in all things
And then all that divided them merged
And then everywhere was Eden once again
Upon exiting, the visitor encounters the “Heritage Panels,” also titled the “Herstory Gallery,” (just in case he/she didn’t get it while looking at the 1,038 names written all over the room—another cringe-worthy element of the show), which chronicles and highlights various achievements by women throughout history.
Certainly the message is clear: elevate the vagina to the status of the phallus; honor these important women, who too have contributed to history, but have been systematically written out; educate our women now so they may learn about their great female predecessors so we can finally achieve gender equality. Chicago attains this directness by the repeated use of symbols such as the triangle and what she calls an “active vaginal form,” as well as a dominant focus on crafts (weaving, embroidery, pottery, etc.) that have been historically designated as women’s work. It is wonderful that she chose to weave her entry banners by the vertical or high-warp technique, from which Renaissance women were prohibited from practicing at the time that it was popular; I’m sure that it was all a very empowering experience for the female artisans on her crew. And certainly, the craftsmanship throughout the rest of the project is very beautiful to look at.
But I see a major problem in Chicago’s work, namely that not only is the work itself dull (a large-scale high school art project involving professional artisans instead of amateurs), the artist does not execute in her work what she claims to be doing: the attempt to create a new visual language for women and the redefinition of power. This is because all elements of The Dinner Party—the banners, table settings, and historical chronology—do not depart much (if at all) from what has traditionally been the visual language of the culturally dominant group: the rich, white, Anglo, heterosexual male. Chicago has simply replaced the male guests with women, replaced the phallic symbols with vulvae. There is no doubt that she empowers these women—the banquet, prepared by countless invisible hands of the oppressed, was the ultimate display of socio-political and economic power, an indulgent activity enjoyed exclusively by the privileged few—but only through the very same method by which the women have been oppressed throughout history, a method of domination over others. I see no such attempt to establish an ambience of equality (besides the very lazy insertion of the triangle motif); Chicago’s supposed attempt to own the oppressor’s language instead manifests itself as another affirmation of the latter’s domination and the defeat of women.
Is this the only method by which a woman can articulate her social experience? By copying, pasting, and doing some hurried edits on the work of the number one student in the class? Perhaps it is the 21st century cynic that is writing these words, and I must give more credit to the pioneer of American feminist art for attempting anything at all. However, Chicago’s method no longer flies in contemporary times, when there now exist more sophisticated investigations into gender and sexual identity; her approach appears dogmatic, authoritative, reductive, and oppressive. We can view The Dinner Party as a historical reference, but in order to achieve what Chicago has claimed as her vision, we must question the issues at hand with far more rigor than what she has executed with this particular work.
