Art as we experience it today is largely the invention of modern art history. As Western art became more abstract, more arcane, art historians became translators, high priests who could mediate between the heroic, omnipotent artist and the mortals who visit galleries and museums. In order to sustain this art that only a minority of people could appreciate, art historians spilled a lot of ink defining art by what it is not: It is not decorative; it is not nostalgic or romantic; it does not tell a story; and it is not useful. Thus, most of the work that women create is not art, nor is it valued as highly as art: When Claes Oldenburg sculpts a giant BLT from fabric, it's art; if a suburban housewife were to create a giant BLT as a Halloween costume for her child, it would be craft. It's worthwhile to note here that some art historians believe that, while Oldenburg designed his soft sculptures, his wife did most of the sewing. This dichotomy is not solely the creation of modern art historians; rather, they codified an already existing hierarchy, a system in which a man's work often has symbolic, distinctive, public value, while similar work by women—no matter how well-crafted or inspired—remains almost invisible, never to emerge from the domestic sphere. And, even when women paint or sculpt or engage in some type of work recognized as art, they seldom gain the same kind of recognition available to their male peers. Seventeenth-century painter Artemisia Gentileschi created canvases that demonstrated consummate skill, originality, and personal expression. In her lifetime, though, she was mostly appreciated as a novelty act: What could be more absurd and sensational than a woman painter? Read more…
