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Dutch
Woman at Large is
an engagement with (the representation of) domesticity and the practice
of everyday life. It is also a revisiting of Dutch genre painting, specifically
Gerard ter Borch's (1617-1681) 17th Century interior entitled Curiosity
in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The painting
usually hangs in the Metropolitan's gallery # 12 as part of the Jules
Bache Collection and has been reproduced in post card form by the Metropolitan
in 1991.
When
I first thought about doing a work in New York it became clear that it
was entirely appropriate to locate the work within the Met, as it was
the first and most important indicator for me of art, culture and scale,
having been brought there (the word shlepped comes to mind), most Sundays
by my mother along with my four siblings. My mother says that in making
the long treck by subway and bus from Queens to the museum, she was satisfying
her own desire for art and culture and was able to occupy her children
for relatively little money -- while providing an access to the world
of art otherwise unavailable to us in the Orthodox Jewish world that was
my childhood.
My
research has focussed on the history and anthropology of Dutch society
during the 17th Century, the gender roles and the complex domesticity
of that period and the portrayal of such in the visual arts of the time.
This research into the dynamics of domestic ritual and practice in relation
to public sphere continues from an earlier piece of mine entitled, a truth,
a fiction... of sabbath clothes and feeling an imposter now in the Collection
prêt d'oeuvre d'art of the Québec Museum.
During
Dutch Woman at Large, I inhabited the outfit of the figure in the
painting (note the French connotation of inhabit as an article of clothing).
I engaged in conversation only if approached. My intention was to blur
the lines between the passive/active roles of witnessing and being witnessed,
theatricality and the performative, viewer and viewee, subject and object,
and portraiture, narrative and storytelling, while activating a place
for the seated figure in the painting to participate in the culture around
her. Through this work she was be offered a different sort of agency after
all these long years of being gazed at and (being limited to), gazing
out of her forced pictorial domestic (interior) space. The public was,
by extension, offered a different agency in reception given the curious
dynamic created between the painted image of her, my embodiment, and their
viewing / participation.
Upon wearing
the costume, I began to become aware of how much this work is about the
internalized and external expectations of the "good Jewish daughter" within
the larger North American secular culture and historical constructions.
These expectations, like most demands imposed by family and community
are scarcely ever achieved. Despite the sumptuous fabrics, the resulting
internal anxiety and discomfort is felt as vividly as the artificial shaping
of my corsetted body.
Monday,
November 13, 2000
Good morning
Harley and Martha,
Even as large as I was, we still managed to somehow miss each other.
Here
is a brief accounting of my day yesterday, Sunday, at the Met. At 7:30
in the morning my sister and her daughter met me at the hotel and began
the task of dressing me. This connection to family was important in
reference to Dutch 17th Century society and the specificity of the painting
by ter Borch. It also connected me back in a very profound way to what
initially invited my curiosity about the relationship between culture,
scale, performance and personal experience.
I
arrived at the Met fully 'in-habited' with my sister, niece and Mario
Belisle (who had driven down with me from Montreal to photograph my
intervention), shortly after opening hours and gained entry relatively
easily. There was a moment when I first appeared, that held a certain
tension as the volunteers at the front desk didn't know what to think
or do. I saw one of them reaching for a security phone looking straight
at me. At that moment, I thought that it was a good thing I chose a
costume of someone who could pass as a respected, even desirable, patron
of the establishment. I mean, really, how could anyone refuse entry
to this obviously well-dressed, high society woman? I wondered if it
would have been so relatively seamless had I elected to embody a persona
less obviously privileged or of good standing. As it was, my sister
had the idea to swiftly purchase an entry button for me, and within
minutes I had pinned it to my outfit, thereby legitimating my presence
as a guest of the museum for the day.
I
wandered in and around the Dutch period paintings for quite some time
before exploring other parts of the museum including the Egyptian rooms,
the 19th Century European painting collections, the sculpture garden
and courtyard. At 13:00, I had a bite to eat in the Cafeteria with a
friend and then after struggling with the inconvenience of contemporary
toilets given the layers of my 17th Century clothing, wandered outside
into Central Park to enjoy some of the glorious weather. Slightly before
16:00, I had a last visit with my century and my muse before winding
up my visit in the bookstore.
Throughout,
the reception was one of curiosity, astonishment and wonder. The guards,
no less than the children and adults regarding the art works, had big
eyes towards my presence. I had many
solitary meditative moments and a number of meaningful exchanges leaving
me now with some good stories to tell. At one point, after having been
mistaken a number of times for a character in a Vermeer, I began to
suggest to people that it was not only the famous Vermeer women who
merited being noticed. I played with this and explored in conversation
with some people who stopped to talk with me how easy it is for us to
apply the 'star system' that we know so thoroughly from our own social
functions in making reference to and understanding other cultures and
cultural traces. After a number of these discussions, I made my through
one of the back corridors where there was some installation of a temporary
exhibition going on. The
guard on duty took a long look at me and then promptly said, "Great
ter Borch!" I laughed and said, "You mean you did not mistake
me for a Vermeer?" to which he replied, "How could anyone
mistake you for a Vermeer when you are so clearly the seated women from
Curiosity. Enjoy your outing."
I found
children in particular willing and receptive to playing in the zones
of make-believe/for real. Perhaps it was so because on some level they
were responding to the resonant driving force behind this work which
was so located in my own childhood imaginations, exclusions, wishes
and disappointments. Perhaps it is also that in childhood we are simply
so much closer to the possibilities in and playing with perpetual (though
constantly changing), states of becoming.
The shadow
side of the psychological and physical pressure to conform to standards
set by society and family were also vividly present and experienced.
In short, as the aching of my ribs, brought on by the tight corset lacings
and sheer weight of the clothing, subsides with time, so too will the
clarity emerge, linking my intentions with my experience as I sit with
and digest what I felt, what I learned, what became apparent for me
in the doing of this, how people's reactions and responses effected
and affected me and how my being present might have effected and affected
them.
My gratitude
to all of you and to the jury members of the Franklin Furnace Performance
Art Fund for providing me with this opportunity to explore, (re)visit
and care for a piece of myself, of New York, of the relationships between
the personal and social, the intimate and the spectacle, the source
of trauma and its negotiation and issues in the continuum of family
and community in this manner. This performance has offered up some pretty
interesting insights into 'performing the trauma' that I will integrate
into my talk in Germany on the panel about this at the upcoming Performance
Studies conference.
With many
thanks,
Devora
Neumark
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