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It is this “oneness of subject and content”
that carries their work through feminist con-
sciousness beyond the personal to the political.
Itis also present in abstract paintings that seem
superficially more related to the male modernist
tradition than to women'’s creativity in that they
involve the physically expressive manipulation
of paint on a two-dimensional surface.

In much of this work the reoccurring stitch of
women’s traditional artmaking becomes the re-
petitive mark, taking on a new form as a “visual
diary.” Such works are daily records of thoughts
and are used as such by the artists. Just as the
weaver continues from day to day, from one
physical and psychic location to another, mate-
rials and dyes changing slightly, irregularities
and tension showing, the painted marks also
reveal daily emotional changes and tensions.
They are a record of present feeling, a ritual
giving in to the repetitive gesture, a language to
reveal self —a woman’s mantra.

Jenny Snider’s nervous lines recall ancient
Chinese calligraphy, which has both a letter/
character reference and a body/figure refer-
ence. Her drawings are made with and are
about her nervousness and vulnerability. She
“is” the mark, the line. As the marks are repeat-
ed and contained in different spaces (usually
grids or rectangles suggesting fabric, rooms and
houses), the quality and feeling of the line
changes and she becomes more comfortable in
some spaces than in others. She explores her
self-image and feelings about her body in rela-
tionship to other people and spaces. Snider de-
scribes these works as “figurative.” To me, it is
the mark and its repetition that is most impor-
tant. Her works are figurative in the sense that
Chinese calligraphy is figurative—in having a
direct body reference. Works are sometimes
combined or used interchangeably with the
markings, reinforcing Snider’'s commitment to
the diaristic mode. As she says, “The words and
lines come from the same psychological place
and gesture and are not intended to describe or
explain what the drawings are in terms of
images—but rather express the fact that they
come from a nervous hand and a yakking
heart.” Phrases such as “little sounds arose (and
it showed)”; “Well, for one thing, never step on
broken glass”; and “Remember when we saw
the ocean? It was just like this, wasn't it?” tell
where the drawing is coming from and what the
drawing is about.

Louise Fishman’s paintings also function as a
place for personal confrontation and as a state-
ment directed towards other women. Earlier,
Fishman ripped up her old paintings and recon-

nected them by sewing and knotting them to-
gether with fragile thread. Her past was used to
make a statement about her present. The strips
and connecting thread formed loose grids,
transformed in later work to a series of strokes
or marks repeated across the page or canvas or

within the confines of a “particular felt shape”
(a circle or a piece of irregularly cut masonite).
The marks of paint, layered on top of each
other, lead eventually to a rich sensuous sur-
face. The top layer usually consists of strong
marks holding the partially revealed under-
marks to the painting surface—feelings re-
vealed and hidden. Fishman has always talked
about her work in terms of hiding, guilt, vul-
nerability, anger, and personal individuation.

In a seven-panel reversible painting on un-
stretched canvas, Fishman deals with her feel-
ings about her mother, also an artist. One side
of each canvas is painted with calm strokes,
while on the other side the marks explode into
intensely scrawled letters reading “A letter to
my mother about painting.” Another canvas has
the star of David and the words “I am a Jewish
working-class dyke” scratched into the surface.
Just as consciousness raising leads to political
awareness, this work moves from the personal
into the political. Titled Angry Jill, Angry Djuna,
Angry Paula, Angry Sarah, and so on...they
seem to be painted with the anger. When she
made these “angry paintings” Fishman said that
all she could feel was her rage. When she
looked around at other women, she saw that
they were crippled by their anger too. These
paintings were made to force women to con-
front it rather than letting it turn inward and
become self-destructive. Grouped together as a
wall of women’s anger, the paintings show a
tremendous amount of energy that can now be
redirected towards feminist creativity and
revolution.

These women as well as others (Joan Snyder,
Carla Tardi, and Pat Steir, to name a few) have
used words and marks fairly interchangeably as
abstract gestures with concrete feminist mean-
ings. Words are marks and marks are words;
their repetition becomes not only an interior
monologue but also a dialogue with other wom-
en. Like Damon and Fisher, these artists make
individual feeling and experience the subject of
their work, while the content deals with the
difficulties and ambiguities of being a feminist
artist in a patriarchal society.

Their painting surfaces are often violated or
mutilated; cut, gouged, ripped, scratched, or
torn. The reversal of the usual additive process
of painting refers to the violation of the tradi-
tional painting surface and also to the physical
and psychic violation of women. The thick paint
applied with a palette knife in Fishman’s work,
for instance, acts both as poultice for wounds
and cement for holding self together. In Joan
Snyder’s recent work the marks, cuts and burning

combine with words and color to make a pas-
sionate statement about sexuality.

This work is certainly political. Yet Freeman
and MacMillan, in their attempt to distinguish
protest from political art, to show that specific
forms are more conducive to one or another,