There’s only one of them and she is a gift to us all.
After going to the opening of her new show here and beginning to read the new, third volume of her autobiography, I want to write about how much Judy means and has meant to me—and to many, many other people. And I have some idea of the sacrifices she’s made over the years, physical, emotional and financial, to continue her important work.
It must have been at least twenty years ago when we met here in Santa Fe. I was at a low point in my career with no book on the horizon, and I’d lost touch—as often happens with writers who don’t live in New York City—with my professional network: agents, publishers, reviewers, etc. And, to my continuing disappointment, Santa Fe hadn’t developed a community of writers. Although known for years for its visual artists, writers have never played a big role here, and now the city has grown too expensive for any working writer.
So I was feeling isolated and down when Judy blazed like a comet across my path. She took me in hand immediately, understanding from my complaints that I had, at least briefly, lost my way. A dedicated runner, she invited me to join her on early morning runs of many miles. Running has never been my sport, so all I could do was lag behind her for a while.
She also introduced me to her own strenuous work routine: ten hours a day in her studio. She advised me to begin working immediately after our run without stopping for phone calls, mail or any other distraction, and keeping going until late afternoon. I felt I disappointed her when I admitted that this was more than I wanted to take on.
Because she presents herself as supremely confidant, even tough, a lot of people don’t know what a soft and gentle heart Judy has. By withdrawing from our contract, I hurt her deeply, as she told me many years later. Now, reading her memoir, I realize the reason it is so fine is that she is strong enough to reveal her vulnerability and her heart-felt disappointment with failed friendships and relationships. Using every ounce of her energy to ignite creativity in other women who are often blocked by domestic concerns or weak self-confidence, I don’t think she has ever found many people, outside of her husband, to support her astonishing creativity in the same way she has supported so many others.
She is remarkable.
Her life has been full of difficulties but she has made or forced her way through, never using excuses, always questioning why the art world, which has been so cruel to her until very recently, diminishes the importance of women’s art—museum collections are still dominated by men with women allowed to contribute only eleven percent of what is hanging on their walls. Her great work, The Dinner Party, was derided by one well-known male critic as “vaginas on plates” and spent many years in warehouses until Elizabeth Sackler bought it and installed it in her wing in the Brooklyn Museum, devoted to feminist art—surely the only such museum in the world. Don’t dream of going to New York without seeing it.
Equally important, she questions why women artists have seldom, or never, delved into the essential female function: childbirth. The Birth Project explores the subject with great drama and creativity, all displayed in panels of needlework she designed, and that were sewn by a team of devoted needleworkers.
And then she took on the Holocaust, and now, at 84, she is actively in search of her next project.
Bravo, Judy! We need you! The world needs you!
Cheryl says
Chicago is remarkable. I will be buying this book. Thanks for sharing. The Brooklyn Museum is on my to visit list. Salute, to you & to Judy Chicago (whom I learned about when young & via Alice Walker’s writing).