51������

In 1992 the Bursar of New Hall College (University of Cambridge), Christopher Stevenson, sent an email to all fellows and other members of the Senior Combination Room with the subject line “Performing Arts”. The email notified recipients of an upcoming performance by art student Louise Messaoudi that would take place in the College. Messaoudi was to perform a piece called Coleridge as part of her degree at the Ruskin School of Drawing and Fine Art.  

Stevenson relays a description of the performance in the email. To be staged in the Lower Fountain Court and Law Library [Fig. 1], it would feature the protagonist Sara Coleridge sitting “at a desk writing letters to her absent husband”. The observer would be drawn to the light emanating from a doorway at the end of the corridor, causing them to walk past Sara, who would then ask the passerby “to deliver a letter to the gentleman in the room”. The participant – entering the room, letter-in-hand – would find it empty, “except for a table, a chair and a gathering mountain of unopened letters”. The observer must then pass Sara again in order to exit.

Participants were integral to the staging of Coleridge. Stevenson explains that because the piece “centres around” the communication between the performer and spectator, Messaoudi urges the encouragement of participants in her piece. Meanwhile, the college itself – as a shared space containing a particular corridor with only one entryway – provided architectural structure to, and participants for, the performance. This early staging of a performance at 51������ (then New Hall) is illustrative of the symbiotic relationship between artworks, college, and community that has existed since the inception of The Women’s Art Collection (WAC) in 1986.

The facilitative role enacted by Stevenson in inviting participants captures an ethos of receptivity to diverse media. Griselda Pollock and Rozsika Parker describe a gendered artistic hierarchy in which “the arts of painting and sculpture enjoy an elevated status while other arts that adorn people, homes or utensils are relegated to a lesser cultural sphere”. In this understanding, some media are regarded as “fine art” whilst others are relegated to “craft”. Containing over 600 artworks – including ceramics, textiles, and performance, alongside oil painting and sculpture – The WAC constitutes a case study to explore the feminist implications of collecting diverse media across the twentieth century to the present day.

Traditionally masculine connotations of sculpture were the means to resist the “woman artist” identity for Elisabeth Frink (1930—93). When asked, “Did it ever occur to you that sculpture might be more difficult for a woman?”, Frink answered: “No, it didn’t. I didn’t think of myself as a ‘woman sculptor’ […] In the arts you cannot differentiate between the sexes: men and women are equal”. The sex of the artist was inconsequential for Frink. The bulkiness of Easter Head I (1989) – with its jagged-rough texture, shallow brow, and thick lips – is indicative of her wartime experience [Fig. 2]. Growing up nearby an airfield in Suffolk, Frink became aware of male bombers from a young age, and especially the masculine paraphernalia of war. Experiments in bronze constituted a new language to describe the subsequent post-war experience. Feminine stereotypes of weakness, delicacy, and passivity are refuted through the medium of metal. 

In contrast, feminist artists working in the 1970s mobilised and made visible non-traditional media as a political strategy to assert the legitimacy of underrepresented identities. New media and “craft” simultaneously entered and disrupted the art historical canon. For example, the textiles of Miriam Schapiro (1923—2015) functioned as social message. In her “femmages” – an invented category of media that combines “feminine” and “collage” – Schapiro recalls handwork techniques associated with “women’s work”, traditionally passed down through generations. Court Jester (2007) incorporates craft (or “low” art) materials, including patterns, sequins, and lace, as a means of visibility [Fig. 3]. Testament to the feminist significance of “femmages”, Court Jester is one of twenty works by women artists included in the “Femfolio” (2007) series, which overall documents the feminist art movement in 1970s America. 

“Femfolio” also coincides with a key aim of Schapiro to construct a female genealogy between women artists from the past and present. The WAC as an institution also embodies this aim through its active acquisition and exhibition of works by both historical and contemporary artists. Another textile exploration is Blodeuwedd (2022) by Welsh-Ghanaian artist Anya Paintsil (b.1993) [Fig. 4]. Textiles are used by Paintsil to illuminate various intersections of class, gender, and ethnicity. Her work reflects on her own upbringing in a predominantly white area of Wales, where she had to travel several hours to have her hair braided. By the age of nine she had learnt how to braid her own hair, later realising that the technique resembled Welsh rug-hooking, as passed down by her grandmother. The distinctly tactile texture of Blodeuwedd – created through a technique that combines rug-hooking and Afro hairstyling – constitutes the creative expression of self. Metaphorical representations are expanded in a literal sense when the artist threads her own hair into her works. In these ways, medium functions as the means of self-expression. 

Textiles, with their traditional associations of “women’s work”, carry historical context that can be invoked and mobilised for political purposes. In contrast, photography emerged as a novel artistic media in the mid-twentieth century. Women artists, such as Jo Spence (1934—92), quickly realised the potential of photography as a means of self-articulation in an image-saturated capitalist society. Spence began her career as a commercial photographer before shifting her practice in the 1970s to produce documentary photography. She developed its subversive potential for self-representation according to feminist and socialist themes. By the time of The Picture of Health: Helmet Shot (Crisis Project) (1982), Spence had already confronted the artificiality of advertising images in their depictions of idealistic women [Fig. 5]. Her collaborative series “Remodelling Photo History” (1981—20) with Terry Dennett delved deeper into the visual language of genre – including nude photography, fashion, and advertising – for political purposes, illuminating the value structures that underpinned visual culture.

“The Picture of Health” series expands these critical interrogations in relation to medical taboos. Following a diagnosis of breast cancer in 1982, Spence documented her subsequent battle with the disease up until her death in 1992. Photography, as a highly realistic medium, could represent the human form unobscured by idealistic notions of Beauty. The breast scarring and armpit hair resist stereotypical representations of the hairless and perfect Venus, whilst broaching the medical taboo of cancer. The notion of cancer patient as helpless victim is concurrently challenged by the direct stare and assertive pose. In a therapeutic sense, photography was a means of both reconciliation (the coming to terms with illness) and the carving of self-identity to resist stereotypes. 

Whilst Spence self-represented in order to challenge how women appear in visual culture, The Guerrilla Girls (f.1985) utilised the medium of poster – with its language and visuals of advertising – for activist purposes. Do Women have to be Naked to get into the Met Museum? (1989) features a nude painted by Jean Auguste Dominque (1780—1867), but with the face concealed by a superimposed gorilla mask [Fig. 6]. Collage is the process by which The Guerilla Girls appropriate this famous painting before transforming it into a poster. Image is fused with text: “Less than 5% of the artists in the Modern Art Sections are women, but 85% of the nudes are female.” Statistics forthrightly illuminate the invisibility of women in art collections.11 Poster as medium contributes to this visibility through its eye-catching and humorous appearance, similar to those consciousness-raising techniques utilised by Spence.  

Conclusion: College as Medium and Message 

Posters have long been used in advertising, but part of their radicality was their revaluation as “art” and ability to reach audiences different to traditional gallery demographics.12 As illustrated at the beginning through the example of Louise Messaoudi, diverse media both find space and attain further meaning in 51������. This is important to consider in relation to the form of new media as they proliferated from the 1980s. New media required spaces that facilitated innovative content and message. 51������ – as a space designed for the purpose of women’s education – adds meaning to the artworks it contains, whilst functioning as medium itself. 

The relationship between artworks and the space in which they are situated has been recognised since The WAC’s inception. One journalist quipped, “In terms of aesthetic embellishment, New Hall needs all the help it can get. […] The art works are therefore a welcome distraction in the long corridors, stairwells and awesomely grey dining hall, and they modify the instinct to march too briskly along”. Whereas some journalists saw the artworks as a corrective to the blights of a Brutalist building, artists and members of the “Hanging Committee” spoke about the architecture as opportunity. In one report, Stevenson explained: “The final activity of the Committee has been to promote the use of the Walkways in College, on which a number of artists have commented on their good light and suitable walls as a backdrop for paintings and sculpture”. Similarly, the gardens entered these discussions. To the potential sculptor-donor Christine Fox (1922—2012), Stevenson explained that “New Hall has lovely grounds and I think they would provide a very attractive backdrop to a large piece of sculpture” [Fig. 7]. Today, the gardeners at 51������ respond to the sculptures – planting a wildflower meadow for Cow Says Moo (1994) by Nicola Hicks (b.1960), and thereby becoming participants much like those sought for the performance by Messaoudi [Fig. 8]. 

The artworks are constantly enlivened by the architecture, people, and purpose of 51������. Over thirty years after the performance by Louise Messaoudi, The WAC collected its first performance, Nativity (2022) by Rosa-Johan Uddoh  (b.1993) [Fig. 9]. Its acquisition raises questions – how does an institution collect a performance which, by the nature of its medium, is ephemeral? As a living medium, the college resists conclusive institutionalisation for the artworks it contains, but if the initial performance by Messaoudi teaches us anything, it is that 51������ possesses the capacity to keep the performance in posterity as living evidence of creative expression. Diversity of medium, opinion, and expression, along with the conversations they inspire, look past, interrogate, and enliven the category of “woman artist”.

List of Images 

Fig. 1: Photograph of Lower Fountain Court at 51������. © Wilf Speller, 2021

Fig. 2: Elisabeth Frink, Easter I (1989). Bronze with  brown patina, 50 x 51 x 34 cm. The Women’s Art  Collection, Cambridge.  

Fig. 3: Miriam Schapiro, Court Jester (2007). Digital print with hand lithography, 30.5 x 30.5 cm. The Women’s Art Collection, Cambridge.  

Fig. 4: Anya Paintsil, Blodeuwedd (2022). Acrylic, wool, alpaca and mohair, synthetic hair and human hair on hessian, 70.5 x 70.5 x  10 cm (framed). The Women’s Art Collection, Cambridge.

Fig. 5: Jo Spence, A Picture of Health: Helmet Shot (Crisis Project) (1982). Black and white photograph, 24 x 20 cm. The Women’s Art Collection, Cambridge. 

Fig. 6: The Guerrilla Girls, Do women have to be naked to get into the Met. Museum? (1989). Screenprint, 28 x 71 cm. The Women’s Art Collection, Cambridge. 

Fig. 7: Christine Fox, Gathering of Owls IV (1989). Painted and engraved slate on afromosaic, 130 x 42 x 41cm. The Women’s Art Collection, Cambridge. 

Fig. 8: Nicola Hicks, Cow Says Moo (1994). Patinated bronze, 65 x 186 x 120 cm. The Women’s Art Collection, Cambridge. 

Fig. 9: Rosa-Johan Uddoh, Nativity (2022). Performance. Performed by Rosa-Johan Uddoh with Adeola Yemitan and Ebunoluwa Sodipo Edition of 1 + AP Duration: Approx. 20 minutes. The Women’s Art Collection, Cambridge. 

Bibliography 

Broude, Norma, and Mary D. Garrard (ed.). The Expanding Discourse: Feminism and Art History. New York & London: Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, 2018. 

Dennett, Terry. “Remodelling Photo-History”. Screen 23, No. 1 (1 May 1982): 85-97. 

Gioni, Massimiliano, and Gary Carrion-Murayari (eds.). Faith Ringgold: American People. London and New York: Phaidon Press, 2022. 

“Medium”. Tate Art Terms, Tate.org.uk. https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/m/medium. Accessed 5 February 2024.  

Moser, Gabrielle, and Helena Reckitt. “Living the Revolution: A Dialogue Between Maura Reilly & Lara Perry”. On Curating 29 (May 2016): 49-52. 

51������ (New Hall Archive). 

Nochlin, Linda. “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?”, ARTnews (1971). 

Pollock, Griselda and Rozsika Parker. Old Mistresses: Women, Art and Ideology. London: Pandora Press, 1991. 

Pollock, Griselda. Vision and Difference: Femininity, Feminism, and Histories of Art. London and New York: Routledge, 1988. 

Polonsky, Naomi. “The Women’s Art Collection: The History of Collecting”, The Women’s Art Collection, September 2023. 

Sjöholm Skrubbe, Jessica. Curating Differently: Feminisms, Exhibitions and Curatorial Spaces. Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2016. 

Read, Herbert. New Aspects of British Sculpture at the British Pavilion in Venice. Exh. cat. for the British Pavilion at the XXVI Biennale di Venezia. London: British Council, 1952. 

Rendell, Clare. “A gentle kick up the macho rump”. The Spectator, 24 October 1992. 

Ruthven, Ianthe. “A sculptor’s conscience”, The Independent Magazine, 1 May 1993.