An ideal syllabus

Imaginative thinking, the key to creative problem-solving, consists in combining existing ideas, information and materials in new ways…To solve a problem creatively it is not necessary to finish up with a functional working model.”1 

My studio practice has accumulated multiple themes of research and a broad range of concerns which inform my thinking and working. My ideal syllabus attempts to make connections across selected texts, and resists drawing the research into a neat and tidy package. Texts chosen draw in thinking around areas where I find conflict, situations where my role as artist or facilitator is a position that shifts within the work. Projects that hinge on a concept which inhabits a liminal space, for example the public vs private as it relates to body and to physical spaces a body may inhabit require consideration in relation to exhibitions and art work I examine in this paper.

These explorations bring questions with regards to where the art is and how to present it effectively, does this work happen in an installation space or in an unseen intimate moment?

Other themes in the texts relate to social and collaborative ways of working and art making, highlighting challenges with regards to working within the the institution and how artists work outside or parasitically exploit resources institutions offer2. Projects which involve collaboration or participation raise ethical questions around authorship, exploitation, and community. Texts for this review assist me in locating my wider practice in the context of artists and writers working in the field of feminist discourse around the body, performance and representation.

I discuss two exhibitions at the Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki; Guerrilla Girls: Reinventing the ‘F’ Word – Feminism! and Collective Women: Feminist Art Archives from the 1970s to the 1990s. Both appear to function as archives of women’s work, the installation seems to value the objects on display as traces of activism, events and story telling, raising questions for me around where the art happens, in social / collaborative work, and how to present it. Both represent collective processes, labour, social practice and activism; Collective Women has an interactive component, you can listen to interviews with women, Guerrilla Girls includes a participatory gesture.

Where is my practice within a feminist context? I acknowledge the work and foundation of past feminist movements, and find kinship among contemporary fourth wave feminists who embrace an intersectional framework that is responsive to current events, political situations, and located and active in online spaces as well as in real life. In Swimming Pools and Waves, Dunn poetically describes contemporary feminism:

Like recycled water, it includes the movements that have preceded it, and, like the dissection of a wave, it’s very hard to define.”3

The body is present even if in disguise: Tracing the Trace in the Artwork of Nancy Spero and Ana Mendieta, Joanna S. Walker 4

My reading of this paper is that it documents a collaboration between Ana Mendieta and Nancy Spero, this is an unconventional relationship as the conversation between the artists appears to exist across time, and despite Mendieta’s death I interpret it as an exchange. It is also unusual in that the homage is made by an older artist in response to the work of a younger artist, a reversal of usual ways artists relate and reflect back to each other, based on the patriarchal hierarchy of mentor / student dynamic. I am interested in this paper with regards to the performative and collaborative aspects of I say a little prayer for you, in particular, the politics of performance as a woman, how a collaboration is represented and the effect of trace in my work.

Mendieta’s performance, Body Tracks (Rasrtos Corporales) 1982, which Spero witnessed, was described as an intimate event, with a small audience which consisted of the New York art community who were given minimal information about what would happen5. The audience were positioned facing three large, blank pieces of paper in a softly lit space. Accompanied by the sound of beating drums Mendieta dressed in plain clothes, entered the room, dipped her arms into a bowl of animal blood and tempera, her hands thoroughly coated in the pigment, she stepped up to a sheet of paper, pressing her hands and arms against it6. Mendieta dragged her hands and arms down, leaving behind blood red streaks which still held the hand-print trace, this process was repeated two more times, leaving a series of drawings on the wall for the audience to view, after which Mendieta walked out of the room, leaving the audience with the drawings7. Spero made a series of works in response to this performance, described as “…re-tracing, re-presenting and re-telling.”8 These works incorporated the image of the hand print and text, one work, The Ballad of Marie Sanders, The Jew’s Whore, included a spontaneous action that became an homage to Mendieta’s Body Tracks performance.9

Incorporating performance in my work has drawn my attention to an underlying reticence I feel in regards to presenting a woman’s body, my body, in the work. My hesitation is connected with what feels like a personal risk, in crossing a boundary between public and private; placing myself in the work may offer a more affecting experience to the audience, but that is a dynamic exchange, which impacts on me too. This feels even more important when working with themes that touch on intimate experiences and personal stories. Presenting my body in performance has brought this concern to my mind as I navigate the complex arena of body politics; where within Western, Capitalist, Patriarchy the white male body is the neutral, the norm. I conclude that I cannot avoid associations or a level of wariness suggesting an offering of yet another woman’s body for a kind of consumption or judgement.

Working with trace then becomes a way to present ideas in the work with some distance, establishing a boundary. Walker describes art historian Susan Best’s observation that ‘absence’ of the body avoided Mendieta’s work being interpreted as ‘essentialist’, noting that “Women artists who displayed their bodies in their art were shown to be at risk of endorsing a narcissistic and biologically reductive image of womanhood.” 10

While Mendieta and Spero’s work discussed here represents traces of differing body parts to the images I work with, or in some cases the whole body, I have similar concerns in my practice; be it performance, or its residual artefacts, such as drawings, photographs and oral retellings of the events. How much is representative of the nuanced and contradictory individual stories shared with me, and is the work interpreted as a display of collective experiences of women? My response to this challenge was in presenting the self portraits as a physically connected work (sewn together in a badly made quilt) and reading women’s sometimes contradictory reflections on the process aloud to an audience. This was an attempt to avoid reducing the work into a universal homogenous response and to draw attention to the stories which came from the process, these stories seemed to be the heart of the work.

Walker highlighted the absence of the body of the artist; the trace of the work or performance was ephemeral or suggestive of other ways of seeing. 11  In I say a little prayer for you, I aimed to highlight a discourse between the differing experiences women shared in response to the project; collecting traces of actions in the form of self portraits and anchoring their experiences in the written stories they shared with me. A desire to create some personal distance and space for reflection was one of my intentions behind the decision to remove myself from the process of making self portraits. By choosing to present other womens’ images as objects and reading their stories aloud as a performance I attempted to invite the audience to both view the images and hear stories, to be present and open to the work and become aware of their own presence in the room.

Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory, Judith Butler. 12 

Connecting further with concerns around the body and performance, gender theorist and philosopher Judith Butler indicates a space for disrupting gender norms, the external limitations that may be placed on women; “Gender is what is put on, invariably, under constraint, daily and incessantly, with anxiety and pleasure, but if this continuous act is mistaken for a natural or linguistic given, power is relinquished to expand the cultural field bodily through subversive performances of various kinds.”13   Rather than accepting the limitations of preconceived notions and representations of ‘women’, it is possible to employ symbolic or actual gestures to disrupt and build new understandings of an identity. 

Butler observes this fluidity of identity and individual agency in performing the self; stating “…one might try to reconceive the gendered body as the legacy of sedimented acts rather than a predetermined or foreclosed structure, essence or fact, whether natural, cultural, or linguistic. ” 14  

In popular culture there are multiple experiences shared by women, the #metoo movement which highlighted the magnitude of sexual harassment that features in the lives of almost all women globally. However, womens’ experiences of such harassment and abuse vary across a spectrum that includes minority groups; un/defined by difference in sexual identity and preference, skin colour, ethnic background, social economic factors and multiple intersections of power and inequality. The collective and individual inhabit and contest the same space, adding more complexity to understanding womens’ experience and performance of the ‘self’.

As I work more closely with I say a little prayer for you, I am conscious of the ethical ramifications and responsibility of working with other people’s stories. I do not want to speak for others, but to provide a platform for differing voices and stories to be seen. Without a transparent process and defining my intention and role within the project, there is the potential to exploit people for source material and stories, specifically with I say a little prayer for you, making self portraits. Putting a call out for participants in a project like this, there is an opportunity to interpret the contributions of participants to confirm a position, to bypass their intentions to promote my own views.

This paper was a useful read, confirming the power and agency individuals have to disrupt and challenge gender norms and re/presentations of the body, and performance of the self. This connects with tensions Walker examined around placing the body or the trace in the work identifying the challenge of holding space for complex or contradictory ideas within a work. Reflecting on my decision to invite people who identify as women to participate, there is potential for the work to be considered to be about a simplified performance or trace of gender, my response is to highlight individual stories as part of a broader conversation.

Experiencing Art, Experiencing Others: On Community, Autonomy and Artist-run Initiatives, Hana Pera Aoake. 15  

I read this paper with a view to ARIs being an alternative model of relational and social practice, stepping back from the art and the making. Aoake examines the social structures or conditions required to realise a collective or community project that has the capacity to create space to experience art. Aoake examines these initiatives and how they operate as entities outside mainstream institutions, are they challenging or replicating them? What can be learned from the successes and failures of these so called alternative propositions?

What Aoake describes is very familiar to me, from my time serving and working in community groups:

“ARIs are often fraught spaces – theoretically based around the building and maintaining of meaningful relationships, often they just ruin friendships. ARIs are not sustainable – the maximum life expectancy for most is two to three years. They are frequently dysfunctional and unwelcoming, often just mimicking the institutional structures they claim to be in opposition to, and they tend to only serve a very specific community.” 16

Thinking about the community groups I’ve been involved in, particularly over the last 12 years, I gained a lot of experience in holding space, manaakitanga and in working with others17. It became clear that while bringing a group together brings energy, support and strength, it also brings many complications and challenges, even when a group is united over a meaningful kaupapa. I worked within a radical feminist space, which was built and sustained by relationships formed through eating together, working together and helping each other with our children. We often met in each others homes, collectively gathering in these intimate domestic spaces enabled trust to form. As an autonomous community group we were free to gather and engage in political activism, to support each other, and we were able to create our own kaupapa and methodology. We resisted forming a recognised body, like an incorporated society or group. Becoming a recognised, approved community group might be beneficial in bringing access to funding and support such as community rooms, but it required complying with an external and more powerful organisation, conforming to a Hegemonic power structure that would establish roles and power dynamics within the group, and would likely undermine the way the group worked. As women/ m/others we operated on trust within the collective, endeavouring to maintain integrity and personal responsibility. Over time, external pressures took a toll, and maintaining functional relationship dynamics within a group of strained volunteers became too hard, and the group disbanded.

Returning to Aoake’s paper, of particular interest to me was a project called Communityity, which was brought to the ARI, Hapori,18 by artist Olivia Blyth. Communityity “…included an essay and two consecutive workshops conducted over a weekend, each designed around the premise of building a community more interconnected with the natural world19. This exchange was imagined much like a wānanga, where participants were invited to contribute, eat and drink. In exchange, drawings they made during the workshop were collected and published within a Hapori publication.” 20

This project serves as a useful model for working with others, much like my experience in community groups, the coming together, eating, drinking, talking, and the investment of time, over the course of two weekends lays a foundation for trust relationships to form. Pulling together the experience of the workshops in the form of a publication as a document or a work itself is something I consider for a future iteration of I say a little prayer for you, reconnecting back to Mendieta and Spero and the idea of trace or residue of art.21

From my experience in working in community groups, it is the coming together, eating, drinking, sharing and talking that enables a group to function effectively, this becomes a foundation for trust and builds relationships. This same principle plays out within social practice and collaborative art making, without a rapport and clear communication the process becomes fraught. Aoake states, “An art community can exist anywhere. It needn’t be tied to a specific kind of space or even to a physical space at all, but it should be centred around collaboration and meaningful relationships – this is what community means to me.” 22

What does community mean to me and what does it look like? In common with Aoake, my idea of community is based on meaningful relationships, it takes time for trust to develop among members, it can exist anywhere, though I prefer interaction in real life. To create an environment for community to emerge, I focus on fundamental needs, food, comfort, shelter, safety and acceptance, this enables trust and sharing. This is the model I’ve worked with in real life community groups. Reflecting on I say a little prayer for you, the community was quite different, I interacted directly with individual participants; inviting them, answering questions, engaging, I hoped, in an open-hearted way. The work almost became a collective of one on one collaborations between each participant and myself. The only exceptions to this were some participants who decided to make their portraits with a friend, having their own collaborative experience, independent of me. The nature of communications, mostly over Messenger, Text and email required a level of responsiveness and care that I carried alone, without mutual support of another artist or the collective, there were also moments of frustration within the process which may not have arisen when face to face. This way of working was exciting for me, there was interaction and participants embraced the project enthusiastically, however my level of commitment and responsiveness to each participant was very tiring over the duration of the project. Moving forward with I say a little prayer for you, I need to carefully consider how I can shape a more sustainable process.

Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics, by Claire Bishop. 23

Bishop describes Bourriaud’s definition of Relational Aesthetics as it emerged in the 1990s, as art within which meaning was elaborated or created collectively through shared experience; not simply through interactivity, but by locating the work in in the ‘real world’, culture at large24. It was also important that the audience was able to be physically present, participate or engage in some way, this means the Art could be taken to be in opposition to Art created for individual consumption. 25 Within Relational Aesthetics, Art intentionally became a collective, community experience, inseparable from the environment it inhabited and the audience present in the moment.

One of Bishop’s contentions with Bourriaud’s position is around the notion that Relational Art would seek to set up situations in which utopian communities would gather for, or emerge in the work, and that the artist would be ‘seeking to inhabit the world in a better way’, describing these as microtopias. 26  Bishop’s view of Relational Aesthetics could be considered broader, more nuanced and possibly less idyllic. I see it as a pragmatic position; seeing the bigger picture and the politics around access to Art, questioning Art’s ability to effect change, suggest new solutions to pressing problems and the role Art plays in creating and reflecting culture and society.

Is it possible for relational and social practice to broaden the reach of Art via social encounters; expanding the audience and stepping outside the reifying institutions of Art? Politics and social exclusions that relate to race, class, gender, economic status and multiple other divisive qualities of society exist in the public domain, a failure to acknowledge this as the context of Relational Art may lead to a more surface response and less critical questioning of the work and its ability to convey meaning.

Bishop postulates that it is the quality of relations formed, rather than the aesthetic, political and ethical “relations” Bourriaud suggested as criteria for evaluating Relational Aesthetics.27 Are the relations unintentionally reinforcing the status quo or opening up a more nuanced conversation?28 These are questions that may be asked of any work of art, yet it is the assumption that Relational Aesthetics has social and ethical concerns at heart that makes the question worth considering.

In this paper, an Antagonistic position involves presenting or creating a situation which holds opposing views or conflicts; often this relates to political concerns, complexities within relationships, or an ideal versus the reality. I read this as a challenge to the viewer, an artwork may be unsettling or difficult to accept.29

Bishop examines the work of two artists, Santiago Sierra and Thomas Hirschhorn, who work within the familiar structures of Relational Aesthetics, who maintain what she terms Antagonostic positions30. Describing Sierra’s work as “a kind of ethnographic realism”, by highlighting the reality of the world he lives and works in and the people he seems to feel connected with. Sierra acknowledges his complicity in capitalism, the role he and his work play, and believes art follows reality rather than attempts to make change.31 It seems to be this recognition of the complexity of the context of social practice that gives agency in the work, and clarity of the position of the artist that holds the conversation. Hirshhorn’s work seeks to deliberately disrupt and destabilise social relationships, highlighting, again, a more realist view of humanity and community. Creating situations where disruption and dissent are felt by the viewer more honestly reflects a democratic society, one where individuals and groups are embroiled in conversation and disagreement, this is far removed from the mircotopias that might be more popular and less fraught to deal with. Any harmony in society and in a relational art work is fundamentally connected with, if not built on, conflict, oppression and political grapplings of dissenting voices. 31

I’m not a feminist, but…”

WE ARE ALL BORN EQUAL AND FREE”, “Being asked to bake a cake. Bake your own fucking cake”, “SMILE”, “LOVE YOURSELF”, “no sex workers without child abuse”, “the mental load done by wives and mothers”, “why send sexy pictures of yourself on insta send smart pictures”, “THERE IS NO ROOM FOR FEMALE MASCULINITY”, “#Iamafeminist”, “SEXIST JOKES”.

Guerrilla Girls: Reinventing the ‘F’ Word – Feminism! at Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, is an exhibition that includes reproductions of posters, print material, video interviews and documentation of selected projects. There was a participatory component to the exhibition which I initially found frustrating, and it raised questions for me. Above is the provocation, and some responses from visitors, who were invited to write a response in chalk and engage in ‘creative complaining’32.

Was I reacting to an Antagonistic Art work?

I was annoyed at the choice of the phase, “I’m not a feminist, but…” as provocation as I have heard it over and over as a dismissive comment, or a fear of identifying with a movement which is fundamentally about equality and fairness (#weshouldallbefeminists33). When it came to the comments, I wondered is this really what people think? Few of the messages seemed to relate to ideas present in the exhibition regarding women and minorities in the arts; I wondered whether the format for participation enables only a passing response; the Guerrilla Girls take on really important issues, surely the audience could engage more deeply? Or were the issues presented in the posters more relevant to a North American context and this wall reflects local concerns?

With regards to responsiveness and engagement with others messages, I draw attention to one comment exchange; ‘Rape Culture is a Myth’ which had been crossed out, but not removed. Is this an effective way for people to share their thoughts, then for judgement and feedback expressed by others? Leaving the exhibition I considered these ethical questions and my expectations of the institution and the artists involved, and the gallery’s claim for the exhibition, that it ”…follows the [Guerrilla Girls] artistic practice from 1984 until 2016 and explores how they employ bold, fun and provocative poster art to criticise ongoing biases in art and society.”34 I left the exhibition really wanting more, which gave me pause for thought; is art reflecting culture or making it? Bishop presents Sierra’s opinion; “I can’t change anything. There is no possibility that we can change anything with our artistic work. We do our work because we are making art, and because we believe art should be something, something that follows reality. But I don’t believe in the possibility of change”.35 I speculate that participatory art works like “I’m not a feminist, but…” may suggest that one’s opinion matters or potential for one’s ideas or comments to be taken on board to make change, whereas in reality it will make no difference at all. The wall could be seen as an empty gesture within an institution unlikely to change any time soon.

I also wondered who were these people coming to the exhibition and sharing on the wall, what was the demographic? I wanted to know if the gallery is somehow keeping track of the responses, and by providing a platform, are they responsible for the messages conveyed, is there a further conversation in the exhibition public programming, or are the messages scrawled by the audience all that we take from the work? I acknowledge these questions arise from my expectations around institutional responsibility, providing safe spaces and leadership. I want the gallery to contribute to improving representation for women and minorities and to be actively working to serve the community.

Pulling back to my own practice, I examine my intentions and motivations; in I say a little prayer for you, my intentions were not to directly make change, and more about providing a reflective space, which may invite conversation. However, choosing to work specifically with women and present their stories is a subtle political action, a choice to value their voices and stories is a way to bring about change.

Another problematic aspect of Relational Aesthetics that Bishop presents is around the blurring of the boundary between author and participant, author and audience; whose work is it?  This is further complicated when more than one artist is behind a work, at present my practice has not extended to other artists, and I would like to work with other artists more collaboratively. Relevant to my current practice, then, questions arise around agency as the artist, in collaborative practice how do I manage shifts in power and influence? Can I be an effective facilitator, holding on to the the process while surrendering to the outcome?

In I say a little prayer for you, I am the author of the work, establishing the concept and directing the participants within the framework I established. However, I needed to be responsive to my collaborators and open to their offerings as the work grew. The process of collaboration was between myself and other individuals, rather than a group setting, so my role was reasonably clear and consistent even if expectations around the outcome shifted in response to the development of the work.

Collective Women: Feminist Art Archives from the 1970s to the 1990s, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki, Sat 25 Nov 2017 — Sun 30 Jun 2019. 36 

“Given the historic pattern that has conspired towards the invisibility of women’s art, the project is clearly an affirmative action to ensure that documentation material is retained, in order that references to women artists can continue beyond this particular generation.”  – Lita Barrie, Women’s Art Archive Interview Project (1984) 37

This exhibition consisted of art works and ephemera, audio, video, photography and a range of objects as the title suggests, from an archive. My interest in this exhibition is not purely with regards to how it relates to themes around women’s work, representation and women’s stories, borne out above. My main area of concern is with this as an installation, an exhibition of archival objects after the fact.

Working with a collaborative and social model, my practice accumulates residual artefacts; objects that relate to the process. With I say a little prayer for you, I have a collection of envelopes and letters containing correspondence from participants, I also have messenger threads, containing questions, wonderings and suggestions from participants. There have been moments when I wonder if these objects and conversations become part of the work, am I dealing with creating an archive, specifically? Or am I drawn to this material as it adds more texture to the finished work? The objects on display in Collective Women include traces of community events, framed and mounted exhibition fliers, posters, books of minutes, fans, and other ephemera related to FAN (Feminist Art Network). The objects in Collective Women are obviously located in a different time, the posters and flyers are pre photoshop, they are more zine like in quality with a handmade do it yourself aesthetic and I see them connecting strongly to a group of women. In contrast the traces I work with include not only hand written documents, digital content, and online conversations, these objects of correspondence feel more personal as they were one on one interactions I had with women who participated in I say a little prayer for you. The objects in Collective Women would likely have been made by women working together in real life, the ephemera in I say a little prayer for you speaks to a different kind of coming together and contemporary ways people find and access community.

I noticed a connection between Guerrilla Girls and Collective Women, which may have been due to technological shifts in the 1980s and 1990s or to these groups working outside institutions. This was a comment in the label text alongside a reproduction of an early poster, Do Women Have To Be Naked To Get Into the Met. Museum? 198938. The label reads, “…the poster’s production was labour intensive. After obtaining a slide of The Grand Odalisque the Guerrilla Girls had to cut out both the image of the female from the painting as well as an image of the gorilla mask, then print them up exactly the same size and collage the two graphics together.”39 In Collective Women, evidence of the handmade is in many of objects on display, including hand written passages in books and on posters. I intend to bring attention the themes of labour and making in my practice; Everyone’s a stranger to me now included a performance where I ironed prints or drawings of my face made on damp cloth, attempting to evoke a durational experience that may suggest notions of care and attention. In I say a little prayer for you I outsourced the labour of making self portraits to other women, which in some sense felt like the physical production, the labour involved in making the work, was shared.

In conclusion, the two exhibitions and four papers I collected for my ideal syllabus have highlighted intersections in my methods of working and the social political ideologies that underpin my values and art practice. While bringing more still more questions and space for reflection, I have resourced myself with ways of working and ways of seeing. Understanding more fully the collaboration or exchange that happened between Mendieta and Spero, and how they were able to navigate the politics surrounding representations of the female body, has clarified some of my thinking around how I may step into performance or if I shift my focus to the trace of the body. Reading Aoake and analysing ways communities may function brings me back to seriously considering the value I place on community, and how I might continue to engage with others. Bishop’s analysis of Antagonism in Relational Aesthetics describes the practical challenges and discord that may exist in art projects which may reveal unpleasant truths about the art world or broader society, the focus is on thinking more critically about what is happening in a social practice and not avoiding the discomfort.40



[1] Ministry of Education, Art in Schools; The New Zealand Experience.

[2] The concept of artists, curators and others working parasitically within/without the dominant institutions of Art, such as galleries, museums, and universities was part of the dialogue during the AAANZ conference, Aesthetics, Politics and Histories: The Social Context of Art, convened in Melbourne in December 2018.

[3] Dunn, ‘Feature Summer 2016 | Art News New Zealand; Swimming Pools and Waves’.

[4] ‘The Body Is Present Even If in Disguise’.

[3] ibid.

[4] ibid.

[5] ibid.

[6] ibid.

[7] ibid.

[8] ibid.

[9] ibid.

[10] ibid.

[11] ibid.

[12] Butler, ‘Performative Acts and Gender Constitution’.

[13] ibid.

[14] ibid.

[15] Aoake, ‘Experiencing Art, Experiencing Others’.

[16] ibid.

[17] Manaakitanga is defined as hospitality, kindness, generosity, support – the process of showing respect, generosity and care for others. ‘Manaakitanga – Māori Dictionary’. 

[18] Hapori is an ARI with no physical location, its founders were based in Tamaki Makaurau, Auckland. The word Hapori is translated in the Māori Dictionary as a “section of a kinship group, family, society, community.” Aoake, ‘Experiencing Art, Experiencing Others’.

[19] Aoake, ‘Experiencing Art, Experiencing Others’.

[20] ibid.

[21] ‘The Body Is Present Even If in Disguise’.

[22] Aoake, ‘Experiencing Art, Experiencing Others’.

[23] Bishop, ‘Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics’.

[24] bid.

[25] ibid.

[26] ibid.

[27] ibid.

[28] ibid.

[29] ibid.

[30] ibid.

[31] ibid.

[32] ‘Guerrilla Girls’.

[33] Adichie, We Should All Be Feminists.

[34] ‘Guerrilla Girls’.

[35] Bishop, ‘Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics’. 

[36] ‘Collective Women’.

[37] ibid.

[38] Tate, ‘‘Do Women Have To Be Naked To Get Into the Met. Museum?’

[39] ‘Guerrilla Girls’.

[40] Bishop, ‘Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics’.


Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. We Should All Be Feminists. Accessed 17 March 2019.

Aoake, Hana. ‘Experiencing Art, Experiencing Others: On Community, Autonomy and Artist-Run Initiatives’. Pantograph Punch. Accessed 19 February 2019.

Bishop, Claire. ‘Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics’. October 110 (October 2004): 51–79.

Butler, Judith. ‘Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory’. Theatre Journal 40, no. 4 (December 1988): 519. 

Collective Women: Feminist Art Archives from the 1970s to the 1990s’. Auckland Art Gallery. Accessed 3 March 2019.

Dunn, Megan. ‘Feature Summer 2016 | Art News New Zealand; Swimming Pools and Waves’. Accessed 16 March 2019.

Guerrilla Girls: Reinventing the “F” Word – Feminism!’ Auckland Art Gallery. Accessed 18 March 2019.

Manaakitanga – Māori Dictionary’. Accessed 17 March 2019.

Ministry of Education. Art in Schools; The New Zealand Experience. Wellington, New Zealand: School Publications Branch, Department of Education, 1978.

Tate. ‘“Do Women Have To Be Naked To Get Into the Met. Museum?”, Guerrilla Girls, 1989’. Tate. Accessed 18 March 2019.

Walker, Joanna S. ‘The Body Is Present Even If in Disguise: Tracing the Trace in the Artwork of Nancy Spero and Ana Mendieta’. Accessed 12 August 2018.

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