KVT – March and the Views of Women

(Vietnamese version available / Hiện đã có bản tiếng Việt)

KVT writes about an extra special homage by women of women at Goethe

A PERSONAL PROLOGUE TO KICK THINGS OFF:

March is the month that holds one of the planet’s most important celebratory days in its hands, International Women’s Day (sometimes called International Working Women’s Day) …and some sensible countries even proclaim it a national holiday.

March has cradled March 8th in its palms since 1911 when it began as a Socialist political event to honor the work of Suffragettes campaigning for the right of women to get a vote in state elections.

When I was younger, more impressionable and idealistic, March 8 was when the women around me in my family and schools and workplaces eschewed the patronizing or company of men and met together and talked of gains made by women for women in the equality and human rights stakes….and the ways to carry the struggle forward

Later these fervent women in my life, on March 8, wore a purple ribbon on their breasts or in their lapels to proclaim their solidarity and their determination to continue in their quest for equal rights and respect for themselves and their peers, often accompanied by the derision of a few men around them who tried to trip them up with polluted taunts like femi-nazi.

Since I began associating with Vietnam a decade or so ago, I noticed that IWD had almost lost its political flavor and taken on a meaning akin to Western countries’ Mother’s Day and Valentines Day celebrations with all their associated commercialisms chucked in….. WID seemed to me to have become a day when a lot of men gave the wife a bunch of flowers and a kiss before demanding that they get back to their proper duties, look after him and the kids and prepare dinner post haste so that hubby could get out to play with his boy friends..

This WID I was in an overseas, well developed country (which explains why this OPINION PIECE appears in the Grapevine only a couple of days before the topic of my article disappears from wall, plinth and floor) where the head male honcho, the PM, has had the brazen effrontery to take on the role of Minister For Women and where the female politician designated to assist him publicly stated, just prior to WID, that she was not a feminist and had no time for such shilly shally.

And this in a country where the word Feminist was practically coined.

Returning to Hanoi I traveled through airports where women were still shrouded from the public gaze from head to toe and who walked a respectful distance behind the male members (figuratively and otherwise)

Over recent years, in Vietnam, I’ve become a bit suspicious of events that celebrate women in March because sometimes they are too patronizing…though I always feel happy for the flower sellers who are predominately female.

BUT the art Exhibition at Goethe….of work by mature women from their early to late middle years, organized and written about by mature women who have bounced against and made nice cracks in a symbolic glass ceiling….was an overwhelming relief and a successful, understated, women’s event

But before anyone has the chance to shout OI! How dare a bloke opine on women’s stuff?….. all I can say is that it’s on behalf of my saintly mother who’d like to be out there belting misogynists and feminist deniers around the head with her hockey stick…and even with her bra if she hadn’t burnt the thing at a rally spurred on by Germaine Greer….and nudging me -to more dramatic efforts in the name of Emily Pankhurst- with a crucifix she’d used as a door stop ever since she was a sexually aware adolescent in knee length bloomers and decided that god was a confectionary made to placate male appetites. She identifies mostly with the first and second waves of feminism of her younger years which is why she’s got a bit of a revolutionary mind set. She agitates for political and legal gains for women while at the same time addressing the ways in which women take control of their own bodies and sexuality. She was a bit non plussed when the third wave feminists came along, those liberated women in their 20s and 30s who still advocated for women’s rights while embracing a girlie culture that celebrated sex, men, gay culture, and clothes…but she admitted that she wished her geriatric years weren’t so far advanced because she’d have joined them with them in a flash of thigh, buttocks and a tattoo or two. Now she’s all in favor of the fourth wave of feminism that she hopes will sweep the world because their campaigning for social and environmental causes is right up her alley. She whirred off recently on her 4 wheeled electric contraption to hand out leaflets at a Reclaim the Night for Women march. She’s even decided that if religiously and spiritually inclined females want to join in the new revolution then she’ll give them her secular blessing. (She’s going to throw a few well chosen epithets at me because of that saintly adjective in line two)

So I’ve decided to try and get my feet into my Mother’s terribly sensible shoes that were made for marching and get on with the show which just happens to be one of those combined exhibitions that works to perfection

The exhibition has a very handsome catalogue attached to it with text by Natalia Kraevskaia (Salon Natasha), Suzanne Lecht (Art Vietnam) and Dr Almuth Meyer-Zollitsch from Goethe and although my fingers are itching and twitching to open its pages I’ve done my usual thing and desisted until after I get it altogether in my somewhat addled mind and sent off to Mien at the Grapevine…..so here I’ll offer sincere apologies if at many times my readings of the works are way off kilter or if I get too carried away with words…which I certainly aim to do.

The image above is of a powerful piece called ‘Armor’, by that lacquer maestro, Phi Phi Oanh, a Viet Kieu sometimes resident in Spain and sometimes amidst us- and whose most famous work was spectacularly on show at the recent Singapore Biennale.

To me it references all of the women who have taken up their cudgels (actual and metaphoric) to fight for their rights….and I call to mind the Trung sisters who somewhere around 40AD in the Red River Delta got really angry when the Chinese invaders killed their warrior men folk. So they rode around the place recruiting soldiers and re-conquested lots of towns and villages in bloody skirmishes. The mad as hell Chinese regrouped and a battle extraordinaire took place on the Hat River about 40 km from modern Hanoi where the Trung sisters, leading the charge on elephants, were defeated. The Chinese story goes that their heads were taken back as a gift for the Emperor. The Chinese story also tries to put these great Vietnamese feminists down by stating that the female forces of the Hai Ba Trung turned and fled screaming from battle when the Chinese soldiers flung off their clothes and fought naked…typical male propaganda bull sh-t!

For me, Phi Phi’s warrior could be one of the Trung sister’s female generals who, though she’s just given birth in the trampled mud on the river bank, sees her Queen in trouble, grabs the baby in her arms and, on pachyderm, naked breasted and sword flashing, forges into the river. She was brought down…..but oh so gloriously…after hopefully hacking off a few priapic male members as she charged by to get her own back on all the rape- that is women’s lot if she’s on the losing side- that is soon destined to take place throughout the conquered land.

Phi Phi’s armor is from many different historical places and times that have molded her as a female and as she says (I couldn’t help but refer to the artists’ statements on the wall) they reflect on women’s historical roles as bearers and custodians of contradictory thoughts and ideologies…which gave me much to cogitate upon when you consider the role of the male as the legend maker and ravisher who expects, nay demands, women to bear the burdens of defeat and victory. All of which can be all too onerous with the males either dead or drunkenly celebrating and embellishing those myths that the women have to keep polishing up so that they don’t loose their sheen

One last thought about Phi Phi’s work…..that face mask could be construed to have a masculine look to at and that’s an aspect I could expand upon now but will leave it to discuss with other members of our Art Discussion Group….which is another version of the ubiquitous Book Discussion Groups…or should we say, Kindle Discussion Groups…that are often re-charging their batteries throughout the city.

Doclab, through the videos of female film makers, Vietnamese and a couple of foreign colleagues, have a selection of footage edited by video maestro Nguyen Trinh Thi (also at the Singapore Biennale with a brilliant video work).

Like too many women’s voices, the short extracts that explore the dignity of women’s work over a broad socio economic spectrum are seemingly silent in the background of the exhibition…that is until you realize that you can get a set of unmarked headphones from a table at the entrance, work out how to get the correct translation channel operational and the buzz and hum of the women’s work accompanies your parade through the exhibits.

As an unintentional metaphor about the role and position of many women in Vietnamese society it is exceptional.

I’m determined to see a screening of the 50 pieces from which these bits were extracted at Goethe over the weekend.

I really liked exploring Nguyen Thi Chau Giang’s work on silk, ‘Inside of Us’, so gorgeously curated.

Giang’s very beautiful, female face is like the female face through the ages…inscrutable. While men could roar and thunder, rant and rave, cry or sob, women generally (take the likes of an Elizabeth the First as exceptional exceptions) had to remain stoic and accepting or be forced into submission. Only their eyes could mirror their souls and allow the dragon of strength that lay within them small pools in which to defiantly splash and dance

But still, in public with their men in tow , far too many women have to use an invisible burqa has to cover their emotions and muffle their voices or risk the consequences that explode as domestic violence

Now I realize that my reading of Giang’s beautiful piece is too simplistic and that my meanderings should reverberate with observations such as those expressed by feminists like Naomi Wolf….another Art Discussion Group topic!

Nguyen Thi Chinh Le in ‘The Guests’ presents 12 of her small, inimitable bronzes. Twelve perhaps to represent each month and animal of the lunar calendar….and I could but wont tread the menstrual path my mind is cycling towards.

She says they are about her childhood memories of the household duties of village girls and the way that the carrying out of these duties had to be on show too impress guests.

Thus the sense of female duty and obedience to the family and immediate society was/is impressed indelibly in the mind….not only in the mind of the girl child but in the mind of her male siblings who carried/carry that expectation of female compliance with them to spread and infect future generations, month in, year out

Delicate and powerful work from this woman who was, like many of her generation and female forebears, given the middle name of Thi which, I’m told, traditionally means market, because the going to- or working in- is the role of women. Even in our modern city, many men shy away from buying in the market unless dire necessity stares them in the face. Losing face is hard to bear!

I wonder if the habit of today’s upwardly mobile parents to refer to their girl children as a princess is going to rear its head as a construct that defines certain female behaviors and expectations in the future.

The ‘Side By Side’ lacquers of Dinh Thi Tham Poong speak eloquently of personal loss…the almost umbilical connections that join together person intimately loved and that are severed by death or separation….In Vietnam I have often empathized about the separation of loved ones for years by war, or when one becomes a migrant worker in another country.

Though Poong’s representations hint at separations of adults from adults I assume that the death of a child, of innocence through abuse are part of the equation.

Separations caused by female trafficking, arranged marriages, mental illness, depression…the list is long and anguished.

Men were expected to bear the sadness, the pain, the memories of separation with stoicism and a brave face. We allow women to express the keening emotions that men were forbidden or which they forbid themselves.

Poong expresses the missing one as a mirror in which you see your real self reflected, not as the narcissistic reflection of the actual looking glass.

Vu Kim Thu continues on her map making journey with a lovely sculptural work, ‘Floating Landscape’, that I’d love as a light to softly illuminate a well loved room so that its contours are hinted at

Thu has spent many years doing the very unconventional female thing of not settling down into expected female roles where her world map is confined to the well known and familiar. Instead she extends her world to the unexpected and unusual, surrounded by unfamiliar cultures and colors

Her map making is about these experiences and hopefully her intricate lines and doodlings invite a few other Vietnamese females to dive into the unknown on their own terms.

The screen by Nguyen Huu Tram Kha, ‘The Metaphor’, is a disarming piece of work. It has an initial mysterious, perhaps sexual allure as it suggests a form lingering behind….then, on second thought, the shadowy shape could become something ominous and threatening?

It has all of the inquisitive mystery and sexuality that the constructs that have shaped my life lead me to believe may be suggested by a veil over a female face. A veil of sequins over a face in a harem. A screen to a dressing room. The opaque door of a bathroom shower

Then too it has the menace and horror of the unknown figure lurking in the dark that Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’ long ago ingrained in my 12 year old psyche… not to mention the darkness of childhood bedrooms when the lights were turned out and the monsters came out from behind the curtains and under the bed,

Its an intricate piece of work with the ‘sequins’ being geometric shapes cut out of x ray film which adds other dimensions to the work as I associate such films with the fear and desperate hope that some dread disease or injury is not about to be unveiled in a human body

Kha suggests it may be translated as a curtain to pass from on stage of life to the next, the future suggested which ever way you want…romantic, ominous, mysterious…….

The exhibition’s piece de resistance for me was Maritta Nurmi’s vase titled ‘keep your dreams like china in your hands’

Maritta is an artist who never ceases the process of pushing her artistic boundaries. Once she has been successful with a medium she tosses it up the air and while it’s spinning she thinks about new and or different applications. Making the seemingly impossible possible.

Where does all this fit into a feminist spectrum?

At the top!

A couple of years ago she had the bright idea of transferring her painted surfaces into fabrics….this was motivated by a stint in West Africa working with the local ladies and being amazed by the cloth they wore. She pushed and probed and finally, in India, the idea became a reality (an expensive reality) that left her with enough bolts of fabric to use in fashion design and in the art work of her next exhibition with echoes occurring in last year’s solo at Manzi.

When the invitation for this WID inspired exhibition came along Maritta decided that the couple of months she had available could be spent at Bat Trang pottery village decorating a huge vase.

Lots of trial and error and miscolorings and misfirings and cracks and experiments with molding ensued assisted and encouraged by village potters who aided and abetted her determination to get this thing ready on time.

When it was unveiled its 2 meter high presence was eye poppingly gorgeous and so it remains. Around the base are traditional carp supporting the vase that is decorated with motifs that recall Maritta’s 20+ year Hanoian history of art experimentation….and to impishly remind the viewer that this vase is truly Hanoian, a mythical unicorn or ky lan plays amidst the roses.

For those familiar with Maritta’s work they’ll recognize her distinctive marks, the patterns and representations.

Others just may be delighted enough to get along to Goethe today or tomorrow before the Vase is all packed up and shipped off.

Don’t you just love those roses that bouquet the top?

As for me, I wait with bated breath for Maritta’s next excursion into the unknown though I keep hoping that her excursion into ceramica will infatuate her for a while yet. I foresee a set of vases being highlighted on the floor of a major biennale gallery

Her idealism and imagination could be that thing of mystery lurking behind Kha’s screen or mapped illusionary in Thu’s exotic wanderings or waiting to be made visible like the dragon in Giang’s silk hanging, and is definitely reflected in Phi Phi’s brilliant and challenging Boudica

END NOTE

It’s an excellent exhibition that stayed with me long after I wandered into the drizzly chaos of mua xuan muddy streets outside the venue.

My apologies to the artists for playing too wildly with their conceptual ideas

My apologies to the feminists out there for attempting to be a usurper and don’t hesitate to upbraid me….comments are open and free below.

The Art Discussion Group is too crowded to allow any more members but feel free to form your own….looking at art in public places is sometimes more fun than having your nose trace text on a kindle

Now I’ll get too and read what the exhibition catalogue has to say.

All images by my inexpert hands except the excellent one of 4 vases which is courtesy Hoang Duc Thinh