THE LAST ONE FOR THE LADIES (WITH A REDUCED PRICE TAG)

She’s My Muse | Kathleen Lew

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Laurie Simmons, detail of Kaleidoscope House, 2001. Source.

It’s fitting that my final She’s My Muse article after nearly two years of writing under this column happens in the final days of Women’s History Month. As I stated (quite loudly) last year, March is almost over, but sexism and oppression remain in the art world, museums, and beyond. As my Museum Studies degree comes to an end, I can’t help but take a moment to be self-reflective. But in true She’s My Muse fashion, I will follow it quickly with a connection to current museum news and calls to action.

This column has been a place to grapple with how gender and feminism interact with museums, and how these spaces of power can be—and are currently being—transformed. She’s My Muse has not been an easy column to write; however, the moments of heartbreak and anger have been accompanied with learning and inspiration (and a healthy amount of self-doubt sprinkled in between). Together, we saw the rise of #MeToo and reflected on the memory (and re-memory) of prolific artists. I had the privilege of speaking with institutions that are advocating for marginalized creators and was continually inspired by the women in my class, in Toronto, and in the wider museum sector.

Finally, I set out to find muses and give other women a platform to share their own. I’d like to present you with a final one:

This post’s muse will look at the events surrounding photographer Laurie Simmons’ retrospective exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago (MCA). Big Camera/Little Camera was curated by Andrea Karnes at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth. Chicago is the second stop of the travelling exhibition and MCA Director Madeleine Grynsztejn added an exciting twist.

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@mcachicago (my) amazing curator Naomi Beckwith standing in front of 1/2 man 1/2 woman 2019- the new picture I made for my exhibition and also placing furniture in #kaleidoscopehouse 2000, wearing a big camera/ little camera t-shirt and cups/ merch from the @mcachicago gift store. #fromLSarchive

A post shared by Laurie Simmons (@lauriesimmons) on Feb 23, 2019 at 6:50pm PST

The MCA has introduced a new tier of discounted admission. Anyone who believes they have been negatively affected by the gender pay gap can pay $12 admission rather than the full $15 price (from February 24 to May 5). This approximately 81% difference represents the 81 cents women make to every male dollar (source). The new admission price supports Simmons’ practice, which challenges gendered archetypes and disturbs the ‘American Dream’ through photography. Her constructed scenes use models, dolls, and props to challenge understandings of femininity.

Source.

Lack of representation, the pay gap, and its affects on artists and museum professionals is something the National Museum of Women in the Arts (NMWA) draws attention to year-round, with added social media campaigns in March. The NMWA’s #5WomenArtists campaign blasts these numbers across online platforms to draw attention to the sexism present in institutions. For example, out of a 2018 study of 820,000 exhibitions across public and commercial sectors, only one third were by women artists. When looking at museum professionals, women are still underrepresented in leadership positions, and the director positions they do hold are at museums with smaller budgets. The top three museums in the world (British Museum, Louvre, Metropolitan Museum of Art) have never had women directors.

Source.

MCA’s recent dedication to women in the arts is a positive step, especially with the MCA’s 2018 exhibition What Remains to Be Seen, which looked at Howardena Pindell and studied demographics of women artists in New York museums. However, these efforts are not without their limitations. Most notably, a single admission discount does not account for the even wider pay gap for women of colour. An admission price difference is a strong (temporary) statement, but this should not be without looking into further action that accounts for intersectionality.

We also need to consider how these initiatives can be implemented in local contexts, such as supporting Canadian women in the arts. The recently closed Mickalene Thomas: Femme Noires was a beautiful exhibition at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO). Through monumental collages, Thomas’ work highlights the intersections between gender, race, and sexuality. She puts Black women at the forefront of her practice and critiques erasure in Western art history. However, Femme Noires is among only one other solo exhibition by a Black woman artist at the AGO, neither of which have been Canadian.

While the MCA is a leading example of what we have accomplished, there is always more to do to improve our structures and institutions. Change goes beyond the confines of this column, but I will be forever grateful for this tiny corner of the internet that has given me a place to discover powerful, intelligent, and dedicated women.

UNPACKING THE MUSE AND EMBRACING THE BAGGAGE

SHE'S MY MUSE

BY: KATHLEEN LEW

Let’s start from the ground up.

Inheriting this column to write about museums publicly from a feminist perspective is exhilarating and terrifying. I’m unbelievably excited about “She’s My Muse,” as a museum goer, grad student, art-lover, feminist, Taurus—but I wanted to get to the bottom of what it really means to be a muse. Throughout my time at Musings, I aim to explore not only what “muse” means for me, but for women (all that category can possibly encompass + more), for intersectional feminists, and for museums.

Source.

Throwing it back to the very beginning, the Muses were the nine Greek goddesses who headed the arts. The ancient Greeks built shrines to the Muses to inspire transformations of thought and creativity. Guess what? These shrines were called museums. Lois Silverman writes about these mouseions in her book, The Social Work of Museums. She describes them as community spaces that fostered social change and honoured both conversation and reflection. Despite these women being mythical, and the museums themselves likely male-dominated, the idea of the word "museum" being attached to powerful female figures is a mighty nice thought.

The word "muse" later came to represent someone’s creative spirit, or a real person that an artist found inspiring. Muses as objects of inspiration brought real women into the art world, despite artists’ continuous attempts to keep them on the canvas. For the Romantic genius, muses provided comfort and creativity while they separated themselves from the rest of the world, tormented by the burden of their talent (*sigh*). 

Sir John Everett Millais, Ophelia, 1851-2, Tate Britain, Model: Elizabeth Siddal. Source.

An extremely compelling art historical example of this is the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood in 19th century England. The brotherhood had a group of muses that they welcomed into their social circle for artistic and sexual relationships. They would paint these women as figures from literature and from the past, positioning them as passive (aka sickly, dying, or silent). 

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Beata Beatrix, 1870, Tate Britain, Model: Elizabeth Siddal. Source.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Elizabeth (Lizzie) Siddal had a particularly dramatic tale. Rossetti painted Siddal as Beatrice, a figure from poetry who died from a drug overdose. Mid-painting, Siddal mirrored her image and tragically died from an overdose as well. This panicked Rossetti into believing it was his fault, ultimately feeding his poetic fantasy. Rossetti destroyed every photograph of Siddal except his own drawings of her, claiming ownership over her image. He buried his poems with her body, only to dig them up 7 years later. 

Elizabeth Siddal, Self Portrait, 1853-1854 Private Collection. Source.

What is more interesting than Rossetti’s quest to own both Siddal’s image and body, is the pursuit of information about these muses as living women and artists. Unsurprisingly, muses were women who did not spend their lives dying in paintings. To separate Siddal from her myth, feminist historians have studied how Lizzie was an artist in her own right. She was the only woman to exhibit with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, and she utilized the social circle to improve her artistic skills. Her self-portrait is a stark contrast to Rossetti’s Beata Beatrix, depicting a mature and anxious woman with an active gaze. 

 Pablo Picasso, The Weeping Woman, 1937, Tate Modern, Model: Dora Maar. Source.

Diego Rivera, Dancer Resting, 1939, Museo Dolores Olmedo, model: Maudelle Bass Weston. Source.

Everyone is familiar with these women. Their images are ever present on the walls of museums, but their names and stories are often forgotten. Picasso’s Weeping Woman is Dora Maar, a photographer who was watching the violence of the Spanish civil war unfold. Manet’s Olympia is Victorine Meurent, a model and performer. Diego Rivera’s Dancer Resting is Maudelle Bass Weston, a prominent African American dancer and cultural figure in Los Angeles. These are only a few of the muses that live on the walls of museums.

It's not quite the Dinner Party, but each plate has a prompt to continue the conversation #FreshTalk4Change pic.twitter.com/27xsDgUc1H

— NatlMuseumWomenArts (@WomenInTheArts) September 17, 2017

The above tweet documents the National Museum of Women in the Arts' #FreshTalk4Change, where Allison Gass speaks to Judy Chicago about amplifying women’s voices through art. This past September's event was a museum muse that stuck with me (even just watching it unfold online), as women joined together to meditate on feminist work and discuss change. Source.

So, what does it mean to search for museum muses today?

It means finding the lives behind the paintings on museum walls, and telling their stories. It means asserting agency as muses and as women for our own creative endeavors. In the context of this column (and life hopefully), it means re-claiming the muse as inspiration. The muse is more than an object of male creativity. It is a group of inspiring women artists and professionals who make socially conscious work, and push for change in the museum world.

I want “She’s My Muse” to be a space that is open, creative, intersectional, challenging, and loving.  Hopefully along the way we will find some great gifs, see some cool art, learn from each other, and work to make room for others.

With that, let's find some museum muses.

References:

Becker, Edwin, Julian Treuherz, and Liz Prettejohn. 2003. Dante Gabriel Rossetti. New York: Thames & Hudson

Bradley, Laurel. 1992. “Elizabeth Siddal: Draw into the Pre-Raphaelite Circle.” Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies 18(2): 136-145, 187. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4101558.

Silverman, Lois. 2010. The Social Work of Museums. London: Routledge.

MANSPLAINING THE MUSEUM

She's My Muse | Joanna Wreakes

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Hey Musings, Joanna here! I’m so honoured to be taking over the She’s My Muse column from my colleague Samantha - if you haven’t had a chance to check out what she wrote over the summer I would highly recommend it. I found so much inspiration in her articles, especially 30 Female Artists to Feature in Your Future Museums, where Samantha discusses so many talented women from all around the world!

The author during Nuit Blanche. Photo courtesy of Cher-Ann Chai

I’ll also admit, I was a bit apprehensive taking on such an important column - there are big shoes to fill and I found myself wondering what exactly I would write about. The idea for this article stemmed from a personal experience I had recently and after talking with my friends and colleagues realized it wasn’t so rare.

Have you ever been to Nuit Blanche Toronto? The all-night art festival happens annually here in Toronto with amazing installations across the city. This year I was lucky enough to check out the sites on Sterling Road and near Fort York with a good pal. It was an inspiring evening full of intriguing installations, fellow art lovers, and sardined streetcars in the middle of the night.

The scene of the crime, so to speak, was a work by local artist Shay Salehi. Standing Still (Walking Composition) invited viewers to contemplate what it means to “make progress” or “move forward”.

Standing Still, 2018 from shay salehi (source.)

Upon entering the room to view the work, it was quite crowded. Rather than follow the crowd of people I moved in the opposite direction towards a part of the room where there was space to stand and observe. When I did this, an older man I had never seen before took it upon himself to try and explain that I was going the “wrong way” and if I followed them I would be walking in the same direction of the character depicted in the work. I was taken aback at why this person thought it necessary to explain this to me - my first major incident of mansplaining in the art and museum world.

Mansplaining is a combination of the words “man” and “explain” and the phenomenon is by no means exclusive to the museum world. Women and nonbinary folks have shared their experiences with the term across professional disciplines. This BBC article does a really succinct job of summing mansplaining and includes this handy chart:

Mansplaining explained. Source.

I brought this experience up with friends and colleagues in the Museum Studies, and found that many of them had similar stories, both as museum visitors and professionals. One colleague, a collections assistant in a sports institution, talks about how people doubt her knowledge purely based on her gender.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by The Wing (@the.wing) on Oct 11, 2019 at 6:01am PDT

Have any readers had a similar experience? Or realized you were an inadvertent mansplainer? What do you think we can do to combat the issue of mansplaining in the museum (and beyond)?

MAKING MUSINGS PART 3: THINGS I LEARNED WHILE EDITING MUSINGS

Letter from the Editor | Natania Sherman

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This is the third post of a five part series in celebration of the Master of Museum Studies program at the University of Toronto's 50th anniversary (MMSt50). To reflect on Musings' past, present, and future, we invited all previous Editors-in-Chief to return to Musings to write special Letter from the Editor posts. These articles will highlight the significance of Musings both within the MMSt program, and for writers' professional careers. Natania Sherman was the third Editor-in-Chief of Musings from 2016-2017.

It’s been a few minutes Lovely Musings’ Readers! I bet you weren’t expecting to see me here again! I am honoured to contribute an article for MMSt50. Aaaaaand a little intimidated to be following two amazing former EIC’s (who just happen to be two of my #GLAM industry girl-crushes). I hope I can do Madeline and Jaime proud by sharing some of my experiences during and after my time as the 2016-2017 Musings' Editor-in-Chief.

The Musings Panel at the 2017 iSchool Conference. L to R: Musings writers Kristen McLaughlin, Erika Robertson, Natania Sherman, and Chris Wai. Photo courtesy of Anja Hamilton.

I knew I wanted to write for Musings as early as my orientation at the iSchool. But I didn’t know what I was getting into when I ran for Musings EIC, until I was suddenly standing in front of a room of 21 expectant student writers all looking to me to train and support them. No pressure, right?

In 2016, the blog was at the crossroads between being an upstart student blog and a professional industry platform. The number of contributing editors had quadrupled, and the blog was gaining attention from industry professionals both locally and internationally. The increased attention meant that editing was a constant pressure! Correcting spelling and grammar is hard enough. I also responded to external copyright questions, scheduled a variety of museological content, and coached writers on how to get the most impact with each article.

OMA Conference Selfies, L-R: Anja Hamilton, Kate Seally, Natania Sherman and Emily Berg.
Photo courtesy of Natania Sherman.

Balancing the blog, school, and my 3 jobs, meant that I was always juggling different priorities. With a team of 21 contributing editors, I was reliant on Musings’ roster of volunteers. I was so grateful that my cohort committed to producing exciting content. Editing Musings taught me that a group of people with a passion for what they do can produce something much greater than what I could do on my own.

Some of my proudest moments as Musings’ EIC were attending the Ontario Museum Association (OMA) Conference in 2016, sharing an article recapping the experience, and leading our own panel discussion about Musings at the iSchool Conference in 2017. These experiences highlighted how writing for Musings could develop connections between students and professionals. The iConference opened up lots of interesting discussions about the future of Musings. Imagine a Musings podcast or Youtube channel, more press opportunities, more outreach to industry professionals. Your academic workload is your only limit, future EIC’s!

I’m also extremely proud of a column I created called She’s My Muse dedicated to women in museums. This project gave me an outlet for my feminist values and it’s been exciting to see that after I graduated some students have chosen to re-interpret the byline. Many writers in my cohort were able to push the boundaries of their chosen bylines in very creative ways ranging from developing an interactive conservation flowchart to writing a three part series examining the conservation issues around the Dakota Access Pipeline. I’m glad I was able to foster an environment where writers could be their most creative selves, and I gained so much knowledge on a range of subjects by reading their work. I hope that you, Lovely Readers, feel the same!

Since graduating from the iSchool, I have have worked in collections management, first at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection and currently, as Collections and Services Manager at the TIFF Film Reference Library where I manage library operations and over-85 special collections. Unlike my Musings predecessors, I no longer write for social media professionally. However, the skills I gained from Musings have helped my career. Editing Musings was a crash course in writing for an audience. Although I rarely use social media at work, I do write annual reports, prepare project pitches, publish artifact descriptions to the web, and correspond with my colleagues. Musings has a niche audience of graduate students and museum professionals, and I spent most of 2016-2017 thinking about what kind of writing voice could best engage that audience. After a year of focusing on writing for the Musings’ audience, it became much easier to engage with different “audiences” such as senior staff and board members in the workplace.

Becoming the Editor-in-Chief for Musings also prepared me for taking on management positions in cultural organizations. At Musings, I had the difficult role of being in a mentorship position with my peers while also learning “on the job” myself. Turns out, coaching Musings writers was the ideal practice for coaching interns and direct reports in the workplace. When I made the transition to leadership, I already had some experience knowing when to ask my colleagues the hard questions and when a strategic coffee outing was necessary (answer: always, coffee is essential). I learned that management is not about already knowing the answers, but about learning as you go and being willing to listen to your colleagues.

Source.

I want to end my article by thanking the faculty and staff at the iSchool. Musings was my outlet and my community during the 2 years of my graduate degree and I’m so grateful that the iSchool fostered student initiatives like Musings. Here’s to another 50 years of the MMSt program!

FUNNY REBEL SHELLEY NIRO SPEAKS AT RYERSON IMAGE CENTRE

SHE’S MY MUSE (SPECIAL EVENT EDITION)

BY: KATHLEEN LEW

On Wednesday May 9th, 2018, Scotiabank Photography Award winner (2017) Shelley Niro spoke at the Ryerson Image Centre (RIC). This talk was part of CONTACT programming, the festival that is currently taking over Toronto galleries with photography for the month of May. The following is a special edition She’s My Muse, providing Musings’ readers with highlights from Niro’s SOLD OUT artist talk.

Shelley Niro, The Rebel, 1982, Ryerson Image Centre.
Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Lew.

To Niro, photography is sculpture, and much more than taking a picture. Working until she is satisfied, Niro pushes how far she can take one image. This has led to an impressive body of work that combines photography, film, beadwork, and painting. Niro is known for exploring Indigenous identity and challenging colonial stereotypes, often focusing on Indigenous women. The directness and humour that is prevalent in Niro's art shines in her speaking. Niro captivated a full auditorium with ease.

Niro began the talk with establishing her practice as treading into unknown territory with art. She then narrated the works included in the current exhibition at the RIC. Niro’s demeanor was calm and matter-of-fact, her honest descriptions of her art bringing the audience to laugher one minute and shocked silence the next.

Rebel (1982) is a photograph of Niro's mother printed in black & white, then later painted to add colour. The title Rebel reflects the name of the car in the photograph, as well as Niro’s mother being “a bit of a rebel.” Niro’s playful honestly continued with her explanation of the 1992 series This Land is Mime Land. She described entering a local costume store and putting on "whatever fit" to create the triptychs made up of a contemporary image, a photograph of a family member, and “me being me.” 

Shelley Niro, This Land Is Mime Land: Five Hundred Year Itch (detail), 1992, Ryerson Image Centre.
Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Lew.

An interesting topic of discussion was Niro’s use of technology throughout her career. Niro described printing and cutting photographs by hand to surround them with beadwork in the 1990s. She was asked about the difficulty in transitioning to Photoshop, answering that navigating the digital world is increasingly easy. However, Niro expressed her continued attachment to analog film and black & white photographs.

Amid the laughs there were also somber moments. Indigenous realities crashed over the audience when Niro recalled the outbreak of the H1N1 virus. Indigenous communities in Northern Ontario asked the government for medical assistance, only to receive body bags (represented in the digital print Stories of Women: Bagging It, 2012). These transitions did not feel forced, but a natural reality of her work and experiences.

Niro explained that Indigenous stories are not always well known. Niro’s art demonstrates a balance between politics and humour, as she strives to bring laughter to Iroquois artwork and explore representations of Iroquois as a “highly developed matriarchal society.”  She described missing and murdered Indigenous women as ever-present. Niro photographs her mother, sisters, nieces, and children, to represent what real Indigenous women look like outside of colonial stereotypes—thus creating positive images of Native women. 

It's Wednesday, and as usual we're open late until 8:00pm. Come see our new season of exhibitions, including our Scotiabank Photography Award: Shelley Niro exhibition. . . . . Installation view of Shelley Niro's The Shirt, 2018 (c) Clifton Li, Ryerson Image Centre

A post shared by Ryerson Image Centre (@ricgallery) on May 2, 2018 at 12:23pm PDT

The simplicity of Niro’s explanations was refreshing. She admitted that some work is self-explanatory, and she cannot come up with an essay for every piece. Niro’s assurance that you do not always have to fully understand a work of art to experience visual satisfaction was comforting and genuine.

Lastly, it was revealed during the talk that Niro’s next big project is a feature film! Other key takeaways include: untwisted DNA is a “damn good design” for Wampum belts and “make what you want to make, then put it out there.”

Want to read more about the survey exhibition of Shelley Niro currently at the RIC? Check out Kesang’s review from earlier this week! Shelley Niro (curated by Gaëlle Morel) is on display April 27th - August 5th 2018.

Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Lew.

STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND LOOK AT THESE BLOBS

SHE’S MY MUSE

BY: KATHLEEN LEW

Dan Lam, They're Kind of Small, 2015. Source.

After a series of failed blog post ideas, and feeling sufficiently overwhelmed by polarizing discourses on social media feeds, I found both distraction and awe in the sculptures of Dan Lam. The last few She’s My Muse posts have been heavy (but important), and I think we deserve to take a moment and smile at the fact that Dan Lam is killing it with these beautiful (and weird) sculptures.

Dan Lam, Keeping Trim, 2017. Source.

Dan Lam is a Philippines-born, Texas-based artist that explores non-traditional media and sculpture. She categorizes her work by “squishes”, “drips”, and “blobs”, and her more recent projects incorporate hand-placed Swarovski crystals. Lam’s sculptures have clever names that bring up associations of modern femininity—Legs for Days, Maneater, Youthful Glow. If you’re lucky, her shows may have cheeky gallery signs inviting visitors to “please touch me” in front of certain works. 

It baffles me how these sculptures made from polyurethane foam, acrylics, and resin are a tactile experience despite existing thousands of kilometers away. The longer I stare at these colourful and spiky blobs, the more it becomes clear that Lam’s work is more than a fun distraction. Her work provides valuable insight into constructions of beauty, touch, and the role of social media in our interactions with art.

Trying to evolve these to be stronger means they now sound like plastic 🤔💪👂

A post shared by Dan Lam (@sopopomo) on Nov 1, 2017 at 11:48am PDT

Lam’s sculptures exist between beauty and ugliness, mixing a vibrant colour palette and alien-like shapes. The works are largely made of smooth foam, but the spiky details threaten pain. Despite the danger, we still want to touch them. Instead of confronting these oppositions in a gallery, I find myself staring at the sculptures on an Instagram feed.

Right before I stabbed myself with a giant spike 🙈

A post shared by Dan Lam (@sopopomo) on Dec 23, 2017 at 3:30pm PST

Lam explains that despite viewers being unable to touch her work through their devices, viewers still ask questions about the sculptures’ texture. This adds unpredictability and playfulness to the work, because the viewer is unaware if the sculptures are soft or hard. We gain information about the sculptures’ physical qualities when Lam posts videos poking her art.

Come poke these at Candy Castle this Saturday @fortworksart 6-9pm 🎥: @ben.willis.art

A post shared by Dan Lam (@sopopomo) on Aug 1, 2017 at 3:13pm PDT

Lam’s work arises questions of digital attachment and desire. How do we interact with beautiful things online and express our desire to touch them? Is it dangerous to assume that we have the right to touch? What can one gain from interacting with the tactile qualities of art?

Dan Lam, Over It, 2017. Source. 

I discovered Dan Lam through an interview with The Jealous Curator, a blog and podcast run by a British Columbia-based artist Danielle Krysa. Both Lam and Krysa are great examples of social media providing access to cool art and talented women.

A post shared by Dan Lam (@sopopomo) on Apr 15, 2017 at 11:49am PDT

If you are in the Toronto area and want to interact further with remarkable women professionals in the museum world (this time off your screen), the Museum Studies Student Association (MUSSA) is holding a panel entitled, Women in Leadership: A Discussion on Challenges, Successes, and the Future on Friday, February 9, 2:00-4:00 in the Inforum (Bissell Building, 140 St George).

In the meantime, enjoy these mesmerizing blobs of colour, danger, and sass. 

Dan Lam, Chin Up, Shoulders Back, 2017. Source.

“THIS IS NOT JUST A GRAB-BAG CANDY GAME”: WHY MUSEUMS SHOULD LOOK TO DIY

She’s My Muse | Kathleen Lew

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As my time at UofT is coming to an end, it has become increasingly important for me to look to my peers for insight and support in the process of shaping my practice as a museum professional and feminist. After covering Atleigh Homma’s If I’ve Been Enveloped in Tenderness (Curated by MMSt candidate Kesang Nanglu), I felt inspired to find other cool projects women in MMSt are accomplishing and discuss their take on intersectional feminism in the arts & culture sector.

My last post was a conversation with Margin of Eras Gallery, which highlighted the importance of DIY spaces in Toronto to support marginalized artists. DIY projects are community-driven platforms that support underrepresented groups through artistic appreciation and experimentation. Lately I’ve been exploring how DIY spaces can foster intersectional feminist communities. I’ve also wondered how DIY projects can contribute to a museum practice.

It became clear that Melina Mehr (MMSt candidate, web developer, writer, and zine-maker) was the person to speak to. Melina founded invisibilities a series of self-published zines that seek to make visible narratives that have been omitted or erased, and act as a platform for marginalized groups to expand their creative networks. After being involved in small DIY communities for nearly ten years, Melina sought to fill a gap of diversity and intersectionality she found in Toronto zines.

invisibilities issue No. 1. Photo courtesy of Melina Mehr.

Read our conversation below:*

Why do you think DIY culture in the arts is important?

In a lot of ways, it seems like one of the few genuine outlets left to share work. You’re not relying on other people’s money, and therefore don’t need to satisfy the particular preferences, requirements, or politics of the organizations or people who are paying you. It’s entirely up to the artist to create whatever they want without barriers or filters.

How do DIY projects complement and/or challenge your more traditional museum practice/studies?

DIY projects provide the space for experimentation and are anti-capitalist in nature and practice. It challenges traditional museum structures in that they don’t require donor funding, which in turn affects the work created, as mentioned above. It complements museum practice in that DIY projects allow for community building, conversation, and network growth in a similar way to an institution’s educational and public programming. Curators and interpretive planners also have the ability to be radical in their work by rejecting the colonial frameworks that museums did and still do function within.

Both issues No. 1 and 2 of invisibilities directly call for writing and visualizations from womxn, why was this an important distinction for you?

The distinction to only include work from womxn for Issue No. 1 was important because it related to the medical field, which has a history of violently under-representing, misrepresenting, and generally misguiding womxn — particularly womxn of colour. Womxn’s experiences of navigating healthcare and dealing with doctors is vastly different than the experiences of men, so I wanted to highlight that. Issue No. 2 relates more to creating a space for histories and narratives which have often been unacknowledged or unrecorded. I have never described invisibilities zine as a project explicitly for womxn by womxn, but rather as an attempt to uncover certain narratives, which so far, have been by womxn. That doesn’t mean I won’t open up submission to all genders in the future. But I do like the idea of someone picking up the zine and perhaps not even initially clicking in to the fact that all the content has been created by womxn. Where it becomes so natural that it doesn’t need to be stated.

“’What does she do all day?’ Reflections on isolation and the cycle of healing incurable illness” by Amanda Lovell (invisibilities issue No.1). Photo courtesy of Melina Mehr.

How does your gender inform your creative practice (in museums, with invisibilities)?

Being a woman does not necessarily inform my practice as much as being a woman of colour does. The intersections between race, gender, and class are deeply rooted and not often recognized in much of the contemporary political discourse. In all the work I do, both professionally and personally, I try to put inclusivity and access at the forefront. I often refer back to this quote by Toni Morrison, who said, “When you get these jobs that you have been so brilliantly trained for, just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else. This is not just a grab-bag candy game.”

Has a community formed around invisibilities? What does that look like?

The launch for Issue No. 1 was so unbelievable that I still can’t wrap my head around it. It was at Wise Bar in Bloordale. I wanted to choose a fully accessible space (which is few and far between!!!) and Wise Bar’s cozy atmosphere seemed like the perfect spot for my expected turnout of maybe 20 people. Before the readings even started, we were beyond capacity and had to turn away folks for the rest of the night! Over 100 people ended up coming out and the zine’s first run of 80 sold out. It was wild! That felt like a community event because all the contributors got to meet each other, I got to meet them for the first time, and the space was just full of conversation and connection. The community since then has mainly been through the Instagram account. I am still trying to think of more ways for people to connect. I’ll get messages on IG or emails from people who have read the zine, but I want there to be a way for those comments to reach publicly so that all the contributors know how important their work has been for others.

View this post on Instagram

Wow, what an exceptional evening ✨ We doubled capacity by 7pm, the room was full of shared experiences and community vibes, and the readings were incredibly honest and touching. The first edition of Issue No. 1 is almost completely sold out, with only a couple prints left. If you didn’t get a chance to snag one, find the link in bio. My deepest thanks to everyone involved. Contributors, readers, friends who offered help and support, and Wise Bar for hosting. 🧡

A post shared by invisibilities zine (@invisibilitieszine) on Oct 17, 2018 at 8:04am PDT

Can you tell me a bit about the theme for issue No. 2 and what it means to you?

The theme centers on stories of womxn from the diaspora and immigrant families as a way to record transgenerational memories and reflections of identity. The themes in each issue also relate to myself (it would be a bit odd to create a platform for a group that I have no knowledge about or experience with myself, no?) Both of my parents are immigrants, and my family members have these unbelievable stories of escaping Iran during the Revolution as religious refugees. I have been making an effort to record some of those stories, as my grandmothers are getting quite old now. I know other people have similar experiences, so I thought an issue focused on these kinds of transnational memories and how they shape people’s own identities would be valuable.

Who are your museum muses in Toronto?

People I’ve worked with at the AGO who I also currently work with at MOCA in the visitor experience teams have been amazing. They’re so dedicated to creating positive interactions with visitors and producing fun and engaging tours. The ladies over at Margins of Eras Gallery and CUE are really active in changing the landscape of museums (although I’ve never personally met any of them). My OG muse is my friend Khristine, who graduated from MMSt a few years ago and was the one who helped me figure out the steps I needed to take in order to grow more in the field. She shares my sentiments about decolonizing art institutions and trying to think more progressively in how we approach our jobs. Anytime I find myself struggling in the field, she’s a great person to talk to. My non-Toronto shoutouts are to the three female directors of Studio Museum Harlem and Kimberly Drew in NYC, and the ladies running the programming at Alserkal Avenue and Jameel Arts Centre in Dubai.

 invisibilities issue No. 1 open to film photograph of Krystle Nacion, one of 5 womxn Melina interviewed. 
Photo courtesy of Melina Mehr. 

*This interview has been edited for length and clarity.