Conference turris::womannotes-v1

    One would be a planet forming out of a cloud of dust.
    Another is from a movie of fertilization...the changes
    captured in slow motion as an egg and a sperm cell combine
    to form a zygote and the zygote begins to divide.

    I imagine an expanse of black emptiness, with a bright red fiery
    explosion in one corner.

    I always think of a golden dawn, with the sun rising over a green meadow,
    and the small birds are just stirring and calling,
    and I'm below them just under a tree on a hill to the west.  
    And it happens every day.

    On a grand scale, I remember an animated film (done in Claymation)
    called "Genesis" or something, narrated by James Earl Jones, which
    starts something like, "In the beginning there was darkness...then
    there was light...then there was God, and God said, 'I'm lonely,
    I think I'll make me a world'..."
    
    On a smaller scale, I picture a room full of creative energy (the
    energy which is a part of us all), and pianos and paints and brushes
    and calligraphy pens and sculpting blocks and kilns and looms and
    papier mache and stained glass and violas and silver and euphoniums
    and....
    
    -Jody
    

    I like Lewis' "Narnia" imagery: out of pitch darkness, a song begins,
    and as the song grows and changes, so is the world created. Light
    appears, the terrain changes, living things spring from the ground
    full-grown, and the singing reflects each movement, each shape.
    And the new creations join in the song...
    
    Tolkien used the "musical creation" theme in his mythology as well,
    but I don't know which of them came up with it first, or if both
    of them got it from somewhere else.
    
    I find a more personal image of creation in throwing clay on a potter's
    wheel. While I only did this for the space of one course at school,
    the image is still powerful: the shapeless mass spinning and suddenly
    changing into something completely different; the pressure of the
    fingers altering the form, subtly or drastically; the difficult
    decision as to whether the new creation is complete or not; the
    risk that further manipulation will destroy it; and, sometimes,
    the collapse of the entire structure - but then all one has to do
    is re-mix the clay and begin again.

    -b

    Well, there's two sets of images: those others have created and
    that immediately spring to mind, and those images which are mine.
    
    Others created:
    
    God touching Adam's finger from the Sistine Chapel painting by
    Michaelangelo.
    
    One of Blake's (can't remember which one) with God (long white beard,
    etc.) creating the cosmos.
                                                               
    Judy Chicago's Birth project.                              
    
    The spaceship of the Imagination from the Carl Sagan PBS show, Cosmos,
    traveling thru space/time.
    
    My images:
    
    Birth, that instant when the head crowns and you realize it's happening
    NOW.                      
    
    The Goddess, singing and dancing Creation into being.

    The image by Blake is of a white-haired god, leaning down from the
    cosmos to create the world. He's in an opening in the middle of a great
    storm cloud, with the sun shining greatly behind him and the wind is
    blowing. He's reaching down, making a measurement with a compass, or
    some such device. The engineer in me loves that!. In the background
    and below, there's darkness. (Sorry for all the masculine pronouns, but
    he's obviously got a long white beard.)

    The postcard I got at the British Museum (they were out of posters)
    says: "`The Ancient of Days', William Blake. Frontispiece to `Europe, A
    Prophecy'. Relief-etching and water colour."

    That's always done it for me, as far as art. For a personal image, I've
    always gone with something bursting in the middle of nothingness.
    Kind of a big-bang thing, I guess.

    					-- hs

    
    I'll take the white haired bearded god, put him in
    jeans and a tie dye t shirt, put him in La Jolla in
    an office with a view of Torrey Pines beach, and 
    have him realizing a top level Widget to the music
    of Wagner ("Dawn", from Die Gotterdammerung).

   While the Big Bang idea presents many wonderful and glorious images,
   I've always thought of it as rather masculine.  I prefer to think
   of Creation as being teased (or nurtured) slowly into existence.
   
   Like:
   
   A single thread forms itself out of a vapor.  And then another.  Then
   another.  Then the strands slowly weave themselves of every kind.
   Then the patterns themselves form themselves into the objects of the
   universe.   And the objects themselves form into patterns of every
   kind, seeking to fulfill every combination there can be.  We ourselves
   are patterns and objects.  And in our striving to succeed and to fail,
   we continue the same continuous creation and destruction of all
   combinations. 
   
   
   							Terza
   

    Whe somebody says "Creation", click goes my brain, and I see in
    my mind's eyes the ceiling of the Sixtine Chapel; the painting is
    so powerful that it even obliterates the fact that I don't much
    like this sort of painting, or any of Michel-Angelo's work, for
    that matter.
    
    There's an image which I think is much nearer to my own image of
    creation and it's the "Venus sortant de l'eau" by Botticelli.
    First, she comes out of the sea, like earthly life did. Then, she
    is the embodiment of "the Goddess", but also "the Mother", with
    her wide hips and soft rounded stomach. She is just born out of
    the water, but she is already, potentially, the creator of further
    life. I find this painting exudes a quiet statement of strength,
    an "here I am" devoid of all agression. 
    
    Joana
    
    
    PS: re 0. and .5, you were trying to get us to mention Michel-Angelo,
        right, Ann?
                        

    I once saw an African painting in an exhibit somewhere, I don't
    even remember where, of a stretch of burning sand that seemed
    infinite.  And there was water pouring down from the sky, and
    where the water touched the sand, some of the most beautiful
    trees I'd ever seen seemed to explode into jubilant life.
    
    Being a painting, it didn't have any sound, but I could almost
    hear the triumphant music echoing.
    
    --bonnie

    Joana,
    
    Yes, the Michelangelo picture is the famous one that I meant, with
    God in long flowing beard and robes about to touch Adam's finger.
    
    Something not everyone knows about that picture:  Eve is represented
    by the shape of the muscles in the calf of Adam's bent leg.  She
    is just a torso, no arms or head.
    
    							Ann B.

    At the risk of irreverence, I saw one recently by cartoonist
    Gary Larson.  The caption reads "In God's kitchen" and the
    picture is of (the standard) white-bearded, robed "God".  He's
    obviously in the kitchen and, as well as several of the usual
    kitchen implements, there are assorted planetoids, comets, etc.
    floating around.  God is removing a baking pan from the oven
    in which is the Earth.  The thought bubble above His head reads 
    (approx. quote) "Hmmm.  This thing looks half-baked."
    
    Steve

        Here are two. One is extremely abstract and the other extremely
        concrete. The concrete one is the "Rites of Spring" segment from
        Walt Disney's Fantasia.
        
        The other is rather abstract and has a couple of forms. It is a
        simple diagram that got drawn on the blackboard numerous times
        when I was studying philosophy in college. It goes something
        like this:
        
                         \   /
                          \ /
                           o
                          / \
                         /   \
        
        although the aspect ratio should be much shorter and fatter,
        rather than tall and thin, at least as I think of it.
        
        It represents time. The center represents the present. The angle
        to the right the future and the angle to the left the past. The
        thing in the center, which I am more likely to draw as a
        sideways tear-drop, represents an entity actual entity which is
        experiencing the things in its past and creating a new present
        out of the various possible futures.
        
        The image comes from process philosophy which is a school of
        metaphysics which instead of thinking of the world as composed
        of static bits of matter or moments of time sees the smallest
        constituent of reality as the "actual entity", something which
        is affected by (or "experiences") events that have already
        occurred and in reactyion to them actualizes one of the many
        possible futures. Process holds that the simple act of "being"
        is creative in that it synthesizes past events into a new whole
        that is more than just the some of the past. "Being" is always
        "becoming".
        
        The idea that creativity and experiencing are fundemental, and
        that an experiencing and changing entity is a better model for
        the constituents of reality than static little beads is very
        powerful to me. The image above reminds me that every moment is
        one of creation, and that creation didn't stop 4600 or 15
        billion years ago.
        
        JimB.
        

The following announcement appeared in my mail last week:

"The Women in Theatre Festival, in conjunction with Northeastern
University, Division of Fine Arts, and AAMARP Gallery present

                     THE BIRTH PROJECT 
          
                             by 
          
                        JUDY CHICAGO

March 11-April 3, 1988 (excluding Mondays), 12 noon-8:00pm, AAMARP
Gallery, Ruggles Building, Northeastern University, Forsyth St.,
Boston.  Suggested donation $3.00. (Nearest "T" stop: Ruggles on Orange
Line or Northeastern on Green Line.)

"From the Creation to The Fall": A lecture by Judy Chicago, 
March 12, 12 noon, Rabb Hall, Boston Public Library, Copley Sq.
Admission Free.

[Funded in part by the Mass. Council on The Arts and Humanities and
National Endowment For The Arts, through The New England Foundation
for The Arts]    

       Danae by Klimt. c. 1907.  Also 'Water Serpents'.
    
       Rodin's Lover's and Klimt's 'The Kiss' are possibilities.

    I entered the base note because I really wanted to talk about Judy
    Chicago's "The Birth Project".
    
    I haven't seen it yet, but I intend to, since I've read the book
    she wrote about the project.  In the book she explained that she
    started the project when she realized that there was a conspicuous
    dearth of creation ior birth images in [Western/European] art.
    This note has confirmed this lack.  The images people gave came
    overwealmingly out of reality and out of their own imaginations.
    
    The images that came out of Western art were of a patriarchal male
    god creating in a cool, detached manner.  (See 518.  :-)  Judy
    Chicago set out to change all that.  She created images of women
    giving birth, of the goddess creating&becoming the world and more,
    much more.  Then she found women all over the country who could
    turn her images into needle-based art, using the colors and materials
    she selected.  The results were mounted and turned into a series
    of exhibits that could be stored centrally, and shipped anywhere
    for display.
    
    What you will see is series of the same image, done over and over,
    in different color schemes, in different sizes, and in different
    media.  There will be quilting, appliqu�, petite point, silk
    embroidery, -- all sorts of things!  And there will be writeups
    by and about each woman and her piece[s].
    
    It's wonderful.  You've gotta go.
    
    							Ann B.

    re: .19 --
    
    I've seen some of Judy Chicago's other work and it's incredible
    and beautiful, but there's something that bothers me about the
    way she did the Birth Project.
    
    I would like a chance to interpret my views of birth and creation
    in a 'plastic' medium, or even a verbal one, with the intent of it
    being a public expression of me.  I could even get into
    investigating my interpretation of a central image, such as
    the onces Chicago uses. 
    
    But using HER colors and ideas and materials strikes me as somehow
    deeply opposed to the ideas she's trying to present. I mean, if
    the power of the goddess is in each of us, why shouldn't each of
    us express it in our own colors?  
    
    Does the book address this issue at all, Ann?
    
    --bonnie

    Yes, the book does talk about it, and it is worth reading for that
    alone.
    
    The first thing to remember is that Judy Chicago was the artist,
    and all the other women involved were volunteers who accepted that
    this was the nature of the project.
    
    The second thing to realize is that Judy also drew images to match
    the ideas that these women had, that the colors were agreed upon
    together, and that there was a great deal of corresponding, argument,
    and hag-ling going on throughout the project.  (One woman persuaded
    her that batik could be sufficiently precise; another did a piece
    in bead-weaving (!) that Chicago designed just for her.)
    
    The third thing to realize was that many of these women were suffering
    from Just a Housewife Syndrome, and this was their first step out.
    
    And think of Judy Chicago, handing out *her* artwork for *someone
    else* to implement!
    
    							Ann B.

        The miention of "the Kiss" immediately reminded me of Rodin'
        "The Hand of God" which shows a lerge hand holding a block of
        stone partially carved into an almost foetal positioned woman
        embracing and embraced by a man. It's hard to convey in words,
        but it very much bespeaks creation to me, and although God's
        hand is masculine, it doesn't strike me as the "male creating in
        a cool detached manner" that Ann rightly points out as
        dominating Western creation images.
        
        Most of Rodin's work strikes me as extremely passionate, and
        much of it besides illustrating creativity, bespeaks it as well.
        Others that touch upon the theme, in my eye, are "Eternal
        Spring", "The Creation of Woman", (but not "Eve"), "Psyche",
        "The Oceanids", and in a sense (which I can't explain), "The
        Bronze Age". Many of these are half-formed images or statues
        "out of focus", giving a sense of mystery and emergence. 
        
        JimB.

    re: .21
    
    I accept that Chicago was the artist and had the right to control
    the project in any way she wanted, any way she could persuade
    her volunteers to implement for her.
    
    But a woman of Chicago's ability, power, and passion could have
    done so much toward helping the women you talk about explore and
    depict their *own* feelings about creation and creating.  I see no
    reason why she had to make these women into amaneuses for her own
    artistic views. 
    
    I'm speaking here as a writer and a needlewoman. The person who
    creates a painting, a story, or a crocheted bookmark, brings to it
    her whole personality and all her beliefs.  If she presents
    something that's in contradiction to her beliefs, she endangers
    something inside her.  I'm not talking here about morality so much
    as that when you produce something you don't believe in for the
    sake of money or approval or even the good of others, you haven't
    been true to yourself. 
    
    And if you keep on being not true to yourself, before too long you
    begin to lose your capacity to say anything worthwhile. The truth
    denied goes looking for another, more honest channel.
    
    Judy Chicago knows this.  She's said it far better than I can.
    Unless she has changed some of her ideas about the nature of
    art, I find it hard to understand why she chose this way.
    
    Maybe I'd better buy the book.  Can you post vital statistics
    so I can get my booknook to order it for me?  Thanks.
    
    --bonnie

    
    
    Bonnie,
    
    I understand what you are saying about the integrity of the artist,
    but I think if what I have read and heard is correct the project
    was a JOINT effort with Chicago acting as the central focus point
    and final decision maker - the ultimate artist.  The WHOLE exhibit
    is the work of art not an exhibit made up of works of art.  This
    is a very hard concept to explain and I am trying to think of an
    example in other art forms that we are more fimilar with.
    
    I do not believe that there was any heavy-handedness by Chicago
    in putting the Birth Project together.  As I work with more groups
    of woman I see in action the Feminist concept of "non-ownership"
    by the individual but TRUE "ownership" by the group.
    
    _peggy
    
    	(-)
    	 |	The Goddess speaks to each individual but her
    		greater voice is the unison of many different voices.
    

    Does a comparison with dance help ? 
    Many dancers, one choreographer ? 

    re: .24 --

    Peggy, I hope you're right; however, too much of what I've heard
    about this exhibit sounds like rationalization for some attitudes
    that won't quite stand up to examination.  (And Ann's summary
    is one of the worst for that.) 
    
    But I admire Chicago and her work too much to condemn her on the
    basis of two newspaper articles and a couple of summaries in
    notes.  I'm not going to comment any further until I have the
    chance to read the book. 
    
    --bonnie
        
    P.s.  The artistic integrity I'm talking about has nothing to
    do with who gets the public credit or whether the cooperation
    was voluntary.  It's your relation to yourself and your own
    truth that gets hurt.  

    The order information for _The_Birth_Project_ may be found in
    Note 152.3 of the ERIS::THREADS notefile.
    
    Collaborations form a difficult puzzle.  Did Gilbert's choice of
    words unduly restrict Sullivan's musical creativity?  Did Sullivan's
    choice of notes unduly restrict Gilbert's versal creativity?  Where
    does art end and craft begin?  Can one be a good craftsman without
    being an artist?  Is it right to talk about "art" and "craft" in
    this context?
    
    							Ann B.

    Drat, not another notes file to read!  Oh, well, if I want
    the book, I suppose I'll have to.
    
    The difference between 'art' and 'craft' is usually in the
    eye of a definer who values oil paints and marble while he
    devalues thread and wood!
    
    It's possible to be a good craftsman (I presume you mean that
    in the sense of a technician, one who merely executes without
    caring?) without being an artist, but you can't tell by looking
    at the person's chosen or imposed medium.  Marble statues,
    crocheted edgings, clay pots, Shaker tables, quilts, and chocolate
    cakes can all equally be artistic creations.  

    I think this might be a subtle motivation behind my reservations
    about the Birth Project -- I'm afraid Chicago didn't adequately
    respect the creativity and emotional integrity of the women
    who executed her ideas in media that are not traditionally
    considered artistic.  

    --bonnie

    Yes!  That was precisely her point: These media are not respected
    *because* they are women's media.  (Well, one of her points.  It
    was something she realized from the reviews of "The Dinner Party".)
    
    You don't have to read -- or even keep -- THREADS.  Cajole, cajole.
    
    							Ann B.

    re: .29 
    
    But if she respects those media so much, why didn't she let
    them -- 
    
    Never mind, I'll read the book first.  I added THREADS to my
    notebook.  I printed out the note about the book.  I'll stop at
    the bookstore tonight.  (It does look like an interesting
    conference.  I had no idea it was there.  I never can find
    a crochet pattern when I need one.)

   I knew this was going to happen!
  
    --bonnie 

I bought The Birth Project book a couple years ago and was pretty amazed
at it. I had an opportunity to see 8-10 of the pieces exhibited in 
Greenfield, Mass. late this past summer. 

I find Chicago's images very powerful and moving, although many are graphic 
and might offend some people.  Chicago's imagery is magnificent, but, 
to anyone into needlework, the needlework is *incredibly* inspiring. I 
wouldn't have believed it was that powerful a medium. 

They also ran a ~40-minute videotape containing interviews with Chicago,
some of her needleworkers, and her main assistant. It's worth watching.

Different exhibits get different selections of pieces, so I'm hoping this
one will be different. The people in Greenfield felt somewhat constrained
by their townspeople not to show some of the more graphic works. 

The people who ran the exhibit in Greenfield said that *part* of 
Chicago's problem in getting the Birth Project accepted as ART was that 
the established view of serious art didn't really encompass a piece of 
art designed by one person and executed by another. 

They also said that the foundation formed to exhibit the Birth Project pieces 
has a limited lifetime, soon to be up (a year or so from now).
The foundation tried to donate the pieces to the Smithsonian, who refused
them. That really angers me. The pieces of needlework are therefore now
being sold to private buyers, with proceeds going to repay the needleworkers 
for some of their time and, I believe, Judy Chicago for her efforts and early 
funding of materials, expenses, etc. 

.re .20, .21, .23, .24, etc. ...

Although it's been a while since I read The Birth Project, I am left with 
the feeling that Judy Chicago kept reasonably tight control over this 
particular project. Some of her needleworkers did hag-le with her and 
control some of the color gradations, but I suspected she kept as tight 
a rein as possible over that many people working remotely. As much as
I'm an admirer of her art, looking at her face and reading her words,
I don't think she'd be an easy a person to work with or for.

I've read her autobiography, Through the Flower, and she has indeed
been in positions/projects where she seemed more interested in encouraging
the growth of her students/fellow workers. I think in this one she was 
more interested in seeing her particular images realized than in the 
artistic growth of the needleworkers. I think she felt she was doing
some of them a favor in giving them an opportunity to step out of their 
usual roles to do something of greater import (greater from Chicago's
point of view).
 
I definitely agree with Ann in .19 - go see this exhibit!

reg

    I really would encourage women to see the works.  And to pay particular
    attention to reviews that criticize Judy Chicago's vision and
    implementations of this art: why is it _too_ female?  why does she
    come under fire for being controlling?  why all this energy to
    denigrate her work?  Must be something to see, if it's that controversial.

    There is an article about Judy Chicago and her project in
    today's Boston Herald.
    
    Bonnie

    re: .33
    
    Lord have mercy.  Even for an article on Judy Chicago, can I stomach
    buying the Herald?  
    
    re: .32 
    
    Lisa, the denigration of the masses, usually represented by the
    art critic, is just one of the crosses we great artists have to
    bear :) :) :) :) :)
    
    Seriously, there is a connection between the power of an artist's
    message and the amount of criticism that artist receives from the
    "establishment".  This is true of both men and women.  If Chicago
    were a man, they'd find something different to criticize her for.
    
    Art deals with the expression of truth as perceived by the artist.
    Society (I'm speaking only of Western society here, not of all
    societies) tends to deal with suppressing the truth in favor of an
    agreed-upon version of life that's somewhat more palatable.  In
    particular, society frowns on the messy realities of dying, and hence
    on birth since the two are intimately connected. 
    
    So an artist who goes deep into the truths of life and death is
    going to make "society" extremely uncomfortable.  
    
    I knew a sculptor who used to guage the success of his exhibits
    by how many people he disturbed.  He didn't use any obscene or violent
    images, so he wasn't into shock art, but he felt that if an average
    middle-class person walked into his exhibit, looked at his sculptures,
    and wasn't challenged or threatened by them, then he wasn't adequately
    communicating his ideas.
    
    --bonnie

    in re .34
    
    Bonnie, I know how you feel, I *borrow* my neighbor's copy after
    I finish the Globe at lunch time.
    
    Bonnie Jeanne

    Well, I got to see "The Birth Project" over the weekend.

							Ann B.
    


    Oh, you wanted details?  Okey-doke.

    I looked up Forsyth Street on a map, and found that it was disjoint,
    and ran roughly north-south to the east of the Fenway.  I saw that
    it intersected Ruggles Street, and brilliantly deduced that the
    Ruggles Building was liable to be near there.

    So, bright and early on Sunday, I drove into Boston with Suford
    navigating.  We came into the Fenway area, and drove east on Ruggles,
    to sneak up on it.  Just before the Forsyth-Ruggles intersection came
    up, Suford yelled, "There!" and pointed to a little side street [Leon
    Street] on my left.  Luckily, I made the turn.  It was lucky because
    there was a parking lot I could use there, and because Forsyth Street
    is one way the *other* way.  We parked, walked deasil (Well, "clockwise"
    won't be a useful term for much longer, will it?) around this large
    building, which *was* the Ruggles Building.

    We got in on the far side (People in the know had found how to come
    down Forsyth or Leon from the north and park in the near lot.) and took
    the elevator up to the fourth floor.

    We paid our money, signed the guest book, and walked to this
    intersection.  Nothing to the right.  To the left -- no question about
    that!  We trotted left.  [Note: The following page references are to
    _The_Birth_Project_ by Judy Chicago, ISBN 0-385-18710-6, Doubleday,
    1985, paperback, $17.95, which I checked out of the Wayland Public
    Library.  (Your public library is an invaluable resource.  Use it.)]

    The first piece is "Earth Birth" (pp. 100-101), and, at over 5 feet
    by 11 feet, it is very hard to miss.  The shading that looks like
    lighting effects is really Judy Chicago's terrific airbrush painting.
    The quilting was done by a Massachusetts woman, Jacquelyn Moore, the
    associated text includes a poem she wrote about the piece, and the
    "Boston Herald" had an article on her as well as on the entire exhibit.

    The next piece to the left of that is "Birth Tear/Tear" (pp. 71, 72),
    which is done in macram�.  The text with this reminded me of some things
    I had forgotten:  Chicago had taken to sending a small drawing on
    fabric of a womb containing a proto-mammal as an audition piece to
    the people who wanted to volunteer to work with her.  When she got
    back something she liked, she created a piece to complement that woman's
    skills.  She could not figure out the technique in Pat Rudy-Baese's
    sample (p. 70).  (The photos do not do it justice; it is present at
    the exhibit too.)  She was surprised to find that it was macram�; she
    had disliked macram� because of its non-pictorial qualities, but she
    designed "Birth Tear/Tear" to use Rudy-Baese's skills.  The result is
    very far from the ~slick, sentimental~ work that the "Boston Globe"'s
    reviewer claimed.

    The next piece (deasil) was "Birth Goddess Embroidery 4" (p. 174), done
    with umpteen zillion French knots.  The photo does not do it justice.
    Then came "Creation of the World Embroidery 3/9".  The womb/egg/flower/
    sperm really caught my eye.  The photo, which is only black-and-white,
    does not do it justice.  Next to that were "Birth Power" (p. 59),
    "The Crowning Needlepoint 4" (pp. 45, 46-47), and "Smocked Figure"
    (p. 73, 74, 75).  Across from them was the very large (4 feet by
    11 feet) "Birth Trinity Needlepoint" (pp.114-115) done by a team of
    women in 6-mesh canvas.

    On the far wall opposite "Creation of the World Embroidery 3/9" was
    a different version of the same image/idea, "Creation of the World
    Needlepoint 3" (p. 50).  This was done on (shudder) 24-mesh canvas.
    It has the same meticulous blending of shades as all of the pieces.
    Beyond that was "Fingered by Nature" (p. 127) which was done in silk
    thread, in wonderful, luminous colors that the photos could not begin
    to capture.  The last piece is "Birth Certificate" (p. 202-203, 201),
    done in Pennsylvania Dutch style as a giant show towel.  It symbolizes
    Patriarchy, and Chicago clearly had a lot of fun with it, for all
    that the top half looks so ugly.

    This is my technique for viewing:  I looked at a piece from a distance,
    then I looked at it from a few inches away.  I read the documentation
    panels (again; they're in the book.), broke away to examine some point
    in the piece mentioned in the documentation, and finished reading the
    documentation.  Then I looked at the piece up close, and then from a
    distance again.  After I did this for every piece, I went around again
    and looked at each one just from a good distance.

    The eleven pieces took less than two hours to see.  I wish I had not
    been carrying a heavy purse.

							Ann B.

    
    I went to the exhibit (again) this weekend, and I found out that
    it will be at Northeastern through April 16.  
    
    Justine

RE:  Images of creation

I have a in mind a picture from "The Rainbow Goblins" by ?Ul De Rico?.  It is a
picture of rainbow over a large canyon.  The colors of the rainbow
metamorphisize from the sun into the myriads of creatures which populate the
canyon.  The book is a collection of cibachrome artwork folowing a storyline. A
wonder for adults and children. 

RE: too female

Well, I might term something 'too female', if it were something that males could
not relate to, or if it represented little or no 'male creation'. Possibly those
remarks were made while judging the artwork by the wrong standard, a male one,
or even a (male & female) one if the exhibit is solely for and by women, and men
or people used to judging on a male standard or even an integrated male and
female standard.

JMB