Feminism and Humour in Contemporary Art
When considering the stereotyped oxymoron ‘Feminism and Humour’ before approaching this show, I was initially stumped. After despondently trawling Google for ‘feminist jokes’ (‘Q: What do you call a blonde flying a plane? A: A pilot, you asshole’), I was not certain whether to approach Backflip: Feminism and Humour in Contemporary Art with an eye out for more highbrow dry wit, droll wordplay, or elegant, parodic gestures. Thinking back over decades of feminist humour, however, what I mainly remember is smut: really funny, dirty visual jokes. A lost world of dripping-red tampon earrings, aroma-rama installations, agit-prop doyleys and cleansing performances that spooked the art world subconscious through the 1970s, then quietly gathered dust behind the curatorial curtain.
Until now.
Curator Laura Castagnini curates a contemporary, light-hearted, even silly character of contemporary work, within a lineage of funny feminist art practices. Backflip peppers a cheerful raft of crackup installations and videos from the last few years with a few oldie-but-goodies—Louise Lawler’s Birdcalls (1972–81) provides a cheerful entry-point, chirping the names of canonical (male) artists of her generation as you pass through the gallery entrance.
Backflip has all the wow! factor of current feminist curating that is enlivening the contemporary art world with colour and movement—think Contemporary Australia: Women (GoMA, 2012), Sexes (Performance Space, Carriageworks, 2012) or Scream (Artspace, 2013). Then again, feminist art has always sullied the white cube with domestic clutter, feral performance and unconventional subjects. Backflip is no exception, and the result is stimulating if somewhat exhausting. As with many feminist shows, complex themes make for lateral thinking with materials, surprise herstorical inclusions and domestically cluttered curatorial space. Comfortable beanbags are thoughtfully deployed around the show, and come in