So… I haven’t been posting anything here for a while. A really long while.
I have actually been writing quite a lot recently, though, and I thought I might as well redirect any old follower who might be interested to the shared blog I currently do my thing at: Critical Writ.
Here’s the description of the blog from our website:
“Critical Writ is a collaborative blog, a way for a community of genre fiction aficionados to share their thoughts on issues of race, gender, orientation, minority rights, and environmentalism, particularly when it comes to their representation in literature, comics, games, television, and film.
Critical Writ is dedicated to fostering socially-progressive discourse on popular culture in a safe and respectful online setting.”
So if you’re a feminist who likes to think critically about pop culture – come and check us out! There’s a wide range of comics, TV shows, books and games covered, and soon we’ll get the movie section started with some thoughts on the new Ghostbusters movie (once it’s out and we’ve gotten a chance to see it that is).
Until then (or if this is the last post by me you ever read)
and have a nice day!
Thanks mum, for being my mother. Thanks for enduring all the most boring aspects of parenthood, and the most terrifying aspects. Thanks for living through all my defiant ages. Thanks for watching all those 15+ movies with me when I was eleven, and telling me when to close my eyes during a scary scene. Thanks for listening to U2 when you were cleaning the apartment. Thanks for that time you bought the princess magazine I wouldn’t stop bugging you about, only to throw it in the trash when we got out of the store. I’m not sure if the motive was feminist or if you were just trying to show me I couldn’t pressure you into buying me stuff, but it makes quite a nice childhood anecdote. Thanks for always seeing me as, and treating me like, an individual. Finally, on a more serious note: Thanks for standing between my dad and quite a lot of potential mistakes.
The more my dad tells me about his past and my childhood, the more I appreciate the sort of parent you were. How mature and wellbalanced you actually were, considering you had barely made it out of your teens when you had me (and especially considering I don’t think any one of those qualities came naturally to you at the time). But I’m also grateful you kept that crazy moron (which he was at the time) in my life. You sort of took on the responsibility of a single parent, without getting to make all the decisions or take all the credit. Thanks for that. Thanks for doing a lot of things without getting any credit for it and thanks for not letting that make you bitter. I think right now that’s actually one of the things I’m most grateful for, because I know bitterness can very easily be passed on through generations. Thanks for not putting that burden on me.
Thanks for trying to keep the flaws or anxieties you do have from passing on to me.
Thanks for letting me share them in other ways, by talking about them.
Thanks for talking to me, a lot.
Thanks for a lot.
(I may not hvve enough time to write a whole lot of new blog posts, but I might as well post the ones I’ve already written…)
Marlene Dumas was born in the small South African farming town Jacobsdal (where her father had a winery) in 1953 and moved to Cape town in 1972. She now lives and works in Amsterdam, mostly with oil on canvas and ink on paper.
According to dear Wikipedia she “uses the human figure as a means to critique contemporary ideas of racial, sexual, and social identity”. Now that sounds interesting, doesn’t it?* She’s also really good with that ink. My mum (who’s an artist) can talk about the way she’s drawn the lines in one of her ink sketches forever.
(Does this remind you a bit of Andy Warhol?)
*ps. I’m not so sure I’m in love with the idea of a white woman using black bodies to critique ideas of identity anymore. I guess the way you think really does change over time…
pps. If you google her name and find one of those woman-from-behind-grabbing-her-own-ass-from-between-her-legs pictures – No, I don’t get them either. They kind of make me cringe actually.
I have a growing suspicion that absolutely everyone has some sort of crap to deal with in their lives. Everyone has at least one thing that is not just inconvenient, difficult to work out or a bit sad – but really, really hard. The whole idea of *some people* having a rough time, and the rest just living out a carefree existence seems to me to be an illusion. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t turn out to have real pain to deal with, once I got to know them a bit. Most of them have much more of it than me, and I’m still constantly feeling sorry for myself…
I don’t really have anything wise to say about this, but I wanted to share the thought.
Here you go!
I realized one or two of the people who follow this blog might like to read it… Someone at bookforum.com’s omnivore blog seemed to enjoy it, at least (they linked the blog post here). Which makes me kind of proud, in a silly way. Even if they probably just thought “Hey, a text about fat activism would fit in nicely here. Let’s google ‘fat activism’. Here’s a thingy that seems correct enough”.
ps. Sorry for tricking you into following my blog and then not posting anything in a really long while. I’ll try to do better, though I can’t make any promises – especially since my computer is kind of crap and won’t let me type “a”, so I have to copy and ctrl+v every time I want to write something people can actually read without getting a headache.
Artemisia Gentileschi was born in 1593 and was an Italian Baroque painter.
Here are some interesting facts about Gentileschi (directly quoted) from an article on Mental floss:
– Many of Artemisia Gentileschi’s paintings are retellings of biblical stories from the women’s perspectives.
– In 1616, she joined the Florentine Academia del Disegno as its very first female member.
– When her marriage fell apart, Artemisia became the head of her own household and raised her daughter, Prudenza (who also painted), by herself.
– […] Artemisia was the first woman who managed to live exclusively by her brush. She evidently made “a splendid income,” with patronage from the Medici family and King Charles I.
This is Judith Beheading Holofernes, one of the mentioned retellings of biblical stories: