A Place at the Table
and is self-consciously by and about women. The pieces particularly address women's places at the table, but which table? Judy Chicago's table? The political table? The dinner table?
Take Poprah, a high-backed bejeweled chair plastered with small pictures of previous popes and Oprah Winfrey's smiling face front and center. It's tempting to read this as yet another (clichéd) critique of Oprah's sickening fame and ungodly influence. On the other hand, in light of the exhibition's theme, it might refer to the censure women endure when they achieve successes traditionally reserved for men. The chair's glittery, tacky aesthetic lends itself to either interpretation.
In addition to Poprah, there are several other literal chairs: a rocking chair hangs from the ceiling, suspended by strips of what looks like a garish chartreuse T-shirt. Another chair, entirely decoupaged in photos and magazine clippings with injunctions like "Express yourself" and "Feminist," reminds me of projects I did as a teenager.
Generations is a row of three attached seats. The chair on the right, a child's seat attached at the hip of the center chair, dangles off the ground, while the chair on the left is simply a frame with no seat at all. Three photographs on the center seat portray generations of mothers and daughters. Bookended by a ghostly frame (a dead grandmother? an absent partner?) and a too-close kiddie seat, the middle one is the only viable spot for a grown woman: an apt commentary on the burden of motherhood.
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