Thank you, Rowan & Littlefield Publishers and Publishers Weekly’s Grab-a-Galley for the ebook galley of Brushed Aside by Noah Charney.
(I also posted this review on StoryGraph. My account there is se_wigget. I might stop using Goodreads altogether, since nowadays it only lets me log in via DuckDuckGo on my phone. Otherwise, it pretends my password is wrong... even after I change it... and change it....)
This art history book includes: a list of artworks, beautiful full-color illustrations, a bibliography, notes, and an index. It’s divided into two main parts: Part 1 is about women artists in historical art movements, and Part 2 is about women who were patrons of the arts, art collectors, critics, and scholars instead of artists. I’ve never come across the latter as a major topic in an art book.
Love this! The author says in the Acknowledgments, “Feminism is about respect and equality for women [and, I would add, all marginalized genders and orientations]. Every good person is a feminist. Here’s to all the good people.”
EVERY GOOD PERSON IS A FEMINIST, NEEDLEDICKBUGFUCKERS! I’ve known this for decades, of course. Years ago I realized that the only people I feel inclined to socialize with are feminists who have a high level of empathy. I also appreciate the bell hooks quote in the introduction.
This or a book like it should have been a text book at my alma mater (back in the early 1990s). While majoring in theater costume design, I took an art history class that was awful—a boring white male professor talking about white male art—and testing us on the name of the artist and painting, not giving us essay questions about art movements. The main thing I remember about that class is that a student fell asleep in class and the instructor made a loud noise and yelled extensively at the student. That woke everyone up. But… I digress….
The author admits that his slant is Eurocentric because that’s his specialty, and the book does cover more European and U. S. history, so there needs to be something similar about women’s art around the world/in other parts of the world. And yet there are some women of color and women from other parts of the world featured in this book, fortunately. I don’t know, maybe there’s an art history book on, for instance, specifically Asian women artists.
Did you know that Jackson Pollock didn’t invent abstract expressionism? No, Janet Sobel did. I already knew this, thanks to a placard at an art museum (one of the memories that came up while I read this book). This book addresses this, too.
The book shows dismissive shit sexist art critics and historians have said in the past.
Though the Foreword mentions arts and crafts such as crochet and sewing and lacemaking, and occasionally other art forms such as collage come up, the main focus of the book is painting, prints, and sculpture. Actually, the Bayoux Tapestry (embroidery) and other needlework briefly comes up in chapter 1. And I appreciate that the author acknowledges scholarly bias toward painting, sculpture, and architecture. There’s so much more to art (yes, including literature).
I’m disappointed that the book uses BC instead of BCE, which isn’t from a Christian supremacist perspective. But it does use CE (Common Era), so maybe by the time it’s published it’ll use BCE (hint, hint).
It’s a relief to see, for instance, “(born 1929)” instead of the birth year followed by a dash, as though the author is impatient for the subject to die.
I’m glad to see the Guerilla Girls get a mention in this book. Circa 2010, I attended a talk by one of them, Kathe Kollwitz.
I now want a book about queer women visual artists. A few of the artists featured in this book are queer, but many were married to male artists and overshadowed by their work (at least in their lifetimes).
The misogyny from art critics/reviewers, gallery owners, male artists—it’s not surprising, but it makes me want a dragon to burn them all to a crisp.
Sometimes when the author describes a work of art, it brings up a memory—I may have seen that piece in a museum or at least a book. A good example is Louis Nevelson’s sculpture Mrs. N’s Place—I don’t remember where, maybe Portland or Seattle, but it sounds like a sculpture before which I stood transfixed. I’m sure that if it wasn’t the same sculpture, it was the same artist (and it does sound like the same sculpture—made of found wood pieces and painted entirely black).
The stuff about art needing to be “interesting” (according to Aristotle’s standards) is so weird to me because of another undergraduate memory. It was my first year of college—the only year I majored in Art (as in visual art—all my majors were about creativity). An art teacher castigated me for calling another student’s art piece “interesting.” She went on a rant—to the class, embarrassing me in front of the whole class—about how “interesting” is too vague a description. I was shocked and inarticulate—after that humiliation, of course I didn’t know what else to say about the mixed media piece! But she expected me to say more about it. I needed to process, obviously, which I couldn’t do while in shock and in the spotlight. It was my first year of college, and I already had plans to switch majors.
This book is bringing up undergraduate memories.
I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy reading Part 2, about patrons of the arts and the like. But it proved to be really engaging, too, especially when it reaches the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and is no longer about queens and empresses. Many patrons were royalty, such as Catherine de Medici and Catherine the Great and Empress Tofukomon’in of Japan. But beginning in the late nineteenth century, women who weren’t royalty began to have incomes that made it possible for them to support the arts. Even Madame C. J. Walker and her daughter come up.
Overall, this art history book is an enjoyable read. The writing style is conversational and frequently humorous—never dry. It included artists I hadn’t previously heard of, though I have numerous books on women artists. There need to be plenty more such books. While reading this book, I felt inspired to order biographies on Rosa Bonheur (Art is a Tyrant: The Unconventional Life of Rosa Bonheur by Catherine Hewitt) and Anna Klumpke (Anna Klumpke: Turn-of-the-Century Painter and Her World by Britta C. Dwyer) and the book Sexual Politics: Judy Chicago’s Dinner Party in Feminist Art History by Amelia Jones.
ALSO READ:
Women Artists and the Surrealist Movement by Whitney Chadwick
Pre-Raphaelite Women Artists by Jan Marsh
Broad Strokes: 15 Women Who Made Art and Made History (In that Order) by Bridget Quinn