Paleolithic art, originating 45,000 years ago, provides a window into prehistoric cultures. As scholars know little about Paleolithic societies, theories regarding the purpose of cave art have evolved over time among a history of approaches from “art for art’s sake,” animism, totemism, educational tools, and shamanism. Far from imagining Paleolithic society as alien to our own, recent perspectives consider how cave art reflects Paleolithic values beyond aesthetic or spiritual meaning. In this paper I propose to build upon the approach of Àfrica Pitarch Martí to examine the ways humans create a sense of belonging in spaces, and how, across generations, we consider our connection to the past through our ancestors. I focus on parietal or “unmovable” art rather than mobiliary art that is separate from the cave space itself. This paper analyzes Paleolithic art through the lens of “place” and argues that cave paintings represent “place marking” – imbuing spaces with symbolic significance and providing links to community and ancestors by way of art as a continued traditional practice. The existence of red ochre markings on the monumental domed composition of the Sala de las Estrellas in the Cueva de Ardales in Spain positions itself as a communal gathering space enriched with distinctive cave art. Evidence of the restoration of faded designs by pigments that had been layered at different times demonstrate the ways in which Paleolithic art was used to perpetuate art-making and its role as a Paleolithic tradition. Additionally, I examine the two-way exchange between the ways in which art is adapted to suit cave spaces as well as the inclusion of elements of cave surface textures to evoke a scene. Both “The Swimming Stags” at Lascaux and the jellyfish at Grotte Cosquer in France incorporate existing cave formations into their representations of animals. Ultimately, Paleolithic art allows us to unpack prehistoric value systems – revealing our human drive and dedication to tell stories by visually transforming spaces.

This paper examines found evidence of tattooing in Ancient Egypt, shedding light on its symbolic significance linked to gender-specific ritualistic and funerary practices. This paper analyzes the tattooing practices of this ancient society through the lens of social identity and status, particularly associated with women. I will examine the framework of the three faucets of evidence for tattooing in pre-historic Egyptian society: preserved human skin, artistic depictions of tattooed human figures, and tattooing tools. This paper compiles and analyzes all examples of preserved human skin found in ancient Egypt thus far, as well as several examples of artistic representation and possible tattooing tools. Evidence suggests that tattooed women were afforded higher burials and given positions as ritual leaders for the pharaohs. The combination of tattooing evidence in ancient Egypt points to the high ritual status of tattooed women in this ancient society, thereby complicating our notions of gender status in ancient Egypt.

Animals are famously ubiquitous in art and iconography from Bronze Age Crete, and many of these animals have been traditionally interpreted as victims of ritual sacrifice based on assumptions that stem from later Greek religion. However, zooarchaeological evidence suggests that animal sacrifice was much less common across time and space in Bronze Age Crete than previously assumed. If animal sacrifice was not a fundamental religious or social practice in Bronze Age Crete, what can we make of the animal iconography traditionally interpreted as sacrificial in nature? After a brief survey and examination of the history of scholarship on animal sacrifice in Bronze Age Crete, this paper explores alternative interpretations of animal artifacts that consider the social and economic roles of the animals depicted instead of their potential religious significance. Well-known Minoan artifacts such as the Hagia Triada sarcophagus, bull’s head rhyta, votive animal figurines, and sealstones are recast as depictions of socioeconomic practices such as communal eating and drinking, hunting, herding, and agriculture rather than ritual sacrifice.  

Several ancient Greek myths about death were directly inspired by Minoan burial customs. One of the Minoans’ more puzzling burial practices was their habit of burying their dead in bathtub-shaped coffins called larnakes, which were occasionally actually functioning bathtubs. The decoration of these larnakes offers tantalizing insight into Minoan beliefs on the afterlife, which have been lost to us because their language remains undeciphered. Art historians believe that the bathtub larnakes simply mimic Egyptian solar barques used to transport the dead to the Isles of the Blessed. However, the Egyptians conceptualized the human body, the natural world, and the boundaries between them very differently from the Minoans. Instead of emphasizing human dominance and even violence, the Minoans embraced kinetic forms of nature worship. I argue that the Minoans painted their bathtub larnakes with non-narrative, non-anthropoid, and highly abstract elements of nature that are intended to animate the coffins, incorporate the deceased into the natural world, and reflect an entirely different view of the afterlife as not a place but a state of being. 

Beardless Dionysus, which first appeared on the east pediment of the Parthenon, fulfills multiple roles: the son of Zeus, peaceful Dionysus and effeminate Dionysus. He is a god who transgresses gender roles and embraces gender nonconformity, A contextualized discussion of Dionysus’ femininity as it appears in various pottery, theater and specific rituals, reveals the complexity gender roles in Ancient Greece. Cross-dressing, in particular, appears in various instances in relation to the worship of Dionysus. For example, in Oschophoria, an ancient wine harvest festival of Attica, cross-dressing marks the transition from feminine adolescent boys into masculine adulthood. Moreover, The Red-Figure Column Krater 470 – 460 BCE. attributed to the Pig Painter depicts ritualistic cross dressing in Dionysia and the calyx-krater by the Pronomos painter and dinos by the Dinos painter represent a feminine Dionysus. Also, in Euripides’ play The Bacchae (407 BCE) there are numerous references to the gender nonconformity of Dionysus. His femininity is also implied by his lack of overt masculinity. Until his depiction as a symposiast (which became popular in 5^th century BCE) he is not depicted fully naked. While his followers often carry phalluses he is never depicted as carrying one. As a symposiast he appears to possess a languid, long-haired, and beardless feminine quality. Symposiast Dionysus also represents peaceful Dionysus, the historical context of this imagery is the Peloponnesian war. Perhaps, the image of peaceful feminine Dionysus sparked memories of symposiasts when they were younger and more carefree, not yet warfaring men. The existence of a feminine Dionysus and cross-dressing rituals sheds light on the complexity of Ancient Greek gender roles.

In ancient Rome, images of the deceased and their ancestors—commonly known as imagines maiorum—were an important component of elite funerals. These images were symbols of power and spectacle in the ancient world, conveying political messages, reinforcing elite families’ power and status, and contributing to their overall records of life and legacy. But what exactly are the Roman imagines maiorum? Part of the challenge of conducting research on the imagines is that there is very little extant visual or archaeological evidence, while only featuring in textual sources. Turning to any Latin dictionary provides no relief either, for the word imagines—from the feminine noun imago, imaginis—has a wide range of meanings, from “image” or “likeness” to “shadow” or “echo.” Furthermore, while much energy has been dedicated to the study of death in the Roman world, scholarship on the imagines is scant, as dissenting opinions dominate the majority of scholarly research on this topic. My paper aims to contribute to the debate on the meaning of these poorly understood yet compelling ancient artifacts. Through a careful review of recent scholarship in the last ten years, I reconsider these images, noticing omissions in their interpretation and reevaluating the available evidence, especially primary texts and visual representations. I take into account representations of the imagines in literature spanning five centuries and in many well-known artworks, such as Togatus Barberini, and others, not so well-known. This project promotes a reconsideration of the imagines from a provenance perspective, looking at certain intriguing phenomena, including issues of viewership and reception, that propose a new way of understanding the interplay between politics and spectacle in the Roman funeral. Thus, I will argue that it is time to find a different way of viewing, receiving, and analyzing these works to elucidate their true meaning.

Tomb 1 at the Maya site of Río Azul, in the Petén region of Guatemala, constitutes a noble burial space decorated with red aquatic murals, elucidating the perceived watery landscape of the Maya underworld, Xibalba (“place of fear”). Maya spiritual systems of death and the association with water (as visualized by the tomb’s iconography) represents a specific lacuna in art historical scholarship. Through comparative analysis, this presentation will examine the corpus of water imagery representing the Xibalba across Maya object classes from the Classic Period. The aquatic murals in Tomb 1 are referential of the watery landscape of the Xibalba, yet descriptions of the underworld vary across secondary literature, primary, and visual sources. Additional depictions, such as the imagery of the Resurrection Plate, in which the Hero Twins –– protagonists of the Maya creation story and explorers of the Xibalba –– emerge from a turtle’s carapace, complicate our understanding of the Maya perception of the supernatural. The shell, functioning as a vessel for supernatural travel, sits above a water lily glyph, denoting water below the earth’s surface (as represented by the turtle). The imagery and ritual practices associated with the Resurrection Plate share similarities with and differ from Tomb 1’s references to the underworld. By identifying recurring motifs, I will present a more comprehensive understanding of how the Maya envisioned this otherworldly realm and its relevance to artistic production. Focusing on exploring iconographic connections, this presentation will also examine Maya creation mythology, the significance of animalistic creatures, and ecological influences to the role of water in Maya daily life and belief systems. I intend for my project to highlight a pertinent aspect of the Maya worldview, simultaneously destigmatizing Mesoamerican art and culture, often influenced by persisting colonialist rhetoric.

Although Edouard Manet’s art is now recognized as an important piece of the Western canon, his painting of a prostitute, Olympia, received harsh backlash from 19th century critics on the basis of both form and content. To paint a nude woman in the real world and so unambiguously in an erotic context was considered too vulgar for artistic focus, and his unconventional use of color, light, and shape- flattening the human form and deadening her color- was ridiculed, as evidenced by 19th century textual sources. Neoclassical artists working at the time, such as Ingres and Cabanel, viewed themselves as descendants of the Greek school of Classical art and were creating nudes that followed classical ideals of beauty, but intellectualized the eroticism they displayed. Instead, ancient textual sources on Classical Greek art focus on the erotic nature of their reception in this time period, further evidenced by ancient Greek artworks that include the female nude, specifically those of aphrodite and hetairai. This demonstrates that the initial audience of Greek female nude art recognized these works as erotic. Thus, Manet’s depiction of a nude woman lies much closer to the Classical Greek conceptualization of the nude in his frank acknowledgement of sexuality and desire.

Performance art is an art form involving the actions of the artist or participants, often in a public space. Elements such as music, costumes, lighting, physical objects, and spoken word develop the performance and aid the artist. Performance art and protest intersect when media such as flyers, posters, banners, costumes, and other objects are used as visual representations symbolizing a certain goal or call to action pertaining to the movement. In this presentation, I will reveal how performance pieces from the 20th- and 21st centuries draw influence from pioneering activists before them, as well as spread awareness of reproductive rights and their importance within the temporary public sphere. The temporality element of these pieces creates a sense of urgency for the issue at hand, the artists discussed use this to their advantage. Since the 1970s, activist artists have championed reproductive justice bringing education and attention to women’s socioeconomic being and overall health. Reproductive rights, more specifically access to legal and safe abortion, have become an intensely politicized issue in the last few decades and women who have obtained illegal abortions have become increasingly dehumanized. Activist artists within the modern Reproductive Justice Movement such as Viva Ruiz and Natacha Voliakovsky call attention to specific issues through their performances. For example, Viva Ruiz’s community performance Thank God For Abortion (2019) focuses on the Roman Catholic Church’s role regarding their views on abortion. Natacha Voiakovsky’s performances focus on bodily autonomy and gender identity, her most recent piece For a State Out of Our Bodies (2022) centers on government legislature and the role of the court. These performative protests give space for conversation, education, and reflection all within a public space.

The art dealer Arne Glimcher once said in an interview with art historian Dr. James Fox; “The whole thing between art and money is ridiculous. The value of a painting at auction is not necessarily the value of the painting. It’s the value of two people bidding against each other because they really want the painting.” Assigning a monetary value to a work of art is not a novel concept. However, late-stage capitalism has arguably changed the nature of the relationship of art and economics. Today’s market is fueled by wealth and operates through a complex interplay of galleries, auction houses, and private sales typically driven by historical significance and trends. Here, works are paired alongside eye-watering price tags reflecting not only aesthetics, but investment potential as well.

Therein lies the question; Is late-stage capitalism creating an art market that strips art of its effect? In this paper, I explore this question using Fredrick Jameson’s theories of Postmodernism, John Berger’s Ways of Seeing, Paul Ardenne’s “The Art Market in the 1980s,” and Edward Said’s idea of invented traditions. In “Invention, Memory, and Place,” Said claims that cultures build their own narratives in regard to their own pasts (Said, 2000). Since art is one of our culture’s most valuable forms of memory, today’s market serves to validate both the art and the capitalist system it operates within. Through this lens, I argue that the art market has become a type of invented tradition used to maintain the collective memory behind the art itself. This can be shown by analyzing the sale of specific artworks by Rothko, Da Vinci, and Van Gogh, to question if cultural value is being replaced by monetary value.

My research uses Olafur Eliasson’s installations, Your rainbow panorama (2006-2011) and Sometimes an underground movement is an illuminated bridge (2020), as case studies of incredibly interactive and highly visual contemporary works to explore what happens to viewer experience when the visual sense is compromised. I further aim to provide a new framework for how art historical analysis can bridge the created sensory experience gap and move towards a space of sensory equity in the display of objects. Through visual and semiotic analysis I am able to identify key visual elements of an artwork which are then translated into other sensory methods of display to more closely preserve the visual experience through non-visual means. Cross analysis with disability studies and economic theory then allows for the identification of accessibility recommendations and incentives for their inclusion in cultural institutions at an organisational and governmental level. My initial findings are that the creation of multi-sensory models, utilising technology to add textural, temperature, and movement elements, and visitor engagement tools are feasible and helpful solutions to this problem. Through these means, a new level of immersion can be achieved for visually impaired visitors and for the gallery as a whole.

Western society values written, scientific, objective information above all other forms of knowledge; sight is therefore highly valued in western society as the sense associated with the production of this kind of knowledge. This article examines the western preference for sight in the visually-focused experience of the contemporary gallery and how this sensory design is shaped by, and upholds, western values and ways of knowing. Christi Belcourt’s Walking with our Sisters and Isabel Lewis’ Occasions, two recent multisensory projects hosted in gallery spaces, are used as case studies to explore ways that art galleries could move beyond their disproportionate emphasis on sight. Recognizing the western ideology that is inherent in the contemporary gallery challenges the idea that the “white cube” gallery design and expected visitor role are neutral. Rather, acknowledging the ideology built into the sensory design of the art gallery illuminates the role of arts institutions as producers of cultural values, even through their visitor experience.

Since the passing of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and the subsequent creation of the term “De’VIA” (Deaf View/Image Art) by deaf artists, accessibility within the fine arts has lacked the clarity and coherence that the art world provides for its able-bodied peers. The current works of Christine Sun Kim make to disrupt these gaps in representation by subverting the traditional expectations of a deaf painter, using corporate entities and symbols as vehicles for radical disillusionment of these assumptions of life. Furthermore, her intersectional identity as an Asian-American woman ties into the non-traditional forms of her measurement and medium. I will consider how Kim uses pie charts, venn diagrams, music notes, and expression graphs in nonstandard methods, resorting to subterfuge of the viewer’s expectations to break through myth, and finally beginning to show what it means to be deaf and have rage.

The Deaf experience had been depicted in art before but had not been defined as an art movement until the unveiling of the De’VIA manifesto at the Deaf Way Conference in 1989. A month prior, nine Deaf artists gathered in a four-day workshop to define what is “Deaf art” and concluded that art reflecting the Deaf experience is De’VIA. This started what can now be called the first wave of De’VIA. More recently there has been a second wave of De’VIA that rose in conjunction with the creation of the Surdism manifesto in 2009. Surdism defines the Deaf experience but goes beyond De’VIA in also calling for action against oppression of Deaf people. Thus, it has pushed the second wave of De’VIA into going beyond merely painting the Deaf experience but also pursuing activism against audism and oralism.

This paper seeks to look at the works of Chuck Baird, one of the nine artists at the De’VIA workshop who signed the manifesto, as an example of the first wave. It will also look at the works of Nancy Rourke as an example of the second wave. Both artists are prominent figures of their respective waves of De’VIA with Rourke being considered influential in ushering in the second. Finally, this paper will seek to compare their works to discuss the progression of common De’VIA motifs from the first wave to the second as well as how the activism in the second wave makes its appearance within the art itself. Their works not only reflect their respective Deaf experiences but also the ideas within their waves of De’VIA.

In a world filled with the white male perspective, the works of African female artists are often overlooked. One artist that has opposed the traditional male point of view is Wangechi Mutu. Mutu is a multimedia artist originating in Nairobi, Kenya, specializing in a vast array of mediums including collage, painting, sculpture and film making. Mutu’s contemporary artwork involves fierce feminine figures, combined with natural and mechanical elements, which distort the women into hybrid creatures. These creatures represent positive aspects of femininity, exhibiting power, beauty and divinity in combination with grotesque visuals that represent the oppression of African women and modern materialism. Within this presentation, I will be analyzing Wangechi Mutu’s use of the female body as an avenue for personal artistic expression. Specifically, viewing the four artistic topics of societal subjugation of women, the cultural impact of colonization, feelings of displacement in America and the representation of divine femininity. All of which are topics influenced by Wangechi Mutu’s life experience and African heritage, presenting the Kenyan female perspective in the world of the white male.

My paper examines the work of Alison Saar, Yinka Shonibare, Kehinde Wiley and other artists of color in America and abroad. Working in widely divergent media, these figures explore long-standing concepts of postcolonialist consciousness as well as the more recently minted politics of African-American self-representation after the 1960s and 70s (the “post-soul aesthetics” defined by Richard Schur). Art created by these individuals articulates, among other challenges, the integration of black and gender identity into history, art history and global visual culture.

At the 1993 Whitney Biennial, as part of Daniel Joseph Martinez’s work Museum Tags: Second Movement (Overture); or, Overture con Claque (Overture with Hired Audience Members), visitors to the exhibition were given museum admission tags that stated, “I CAN’T IMAGINE EVER WANTING TO BE WHITE.,” along with various fragments of the phrase. Like standard museum pins, visitors were required to wear these tags to enter the show. My paper argues that by calling attention to the museum admission tag’s intended use as a highly visible marker of permissibility, Martinez turned the pin into a self-aware object that addressed issues of inclusivity in the space of the museum. Drawing on material culture and object studies, I focus attention to the lapel pin as what cultural historian Robin Bernstein would call a “scriptive thing,” or something that shapes human behavior. I position Martinez’s museum tags as active scriptive things in the politicization of the body, also shaped by the work’s categorization as performance art. Spectators became performers in Martinez’s work, affixing a highly politicized statement close to their bodies within the space of the museum. In this way, audience response became a way to analyze how people considered their multiple identities. Additionally, museums themselves are often seen as pristine places where people are expected to act in a certain, oftentimes restricted, way—a feeling that is particularly acute for people of color who may feel unwelcome in these institutions that tend to uphold a standard of whiteness in their administrative body and the artists they show. Ultimately, Martinez’s use of the museum tag as medium drew attention to these less visible barriers of museum spaces, contributing to larger conversations about race in early-1990s America.

Southern Cheyenne warrior, artist, and spiritual leader, Okahaton (Making Medicine), also known as David Pendleton Oakerhater, was imprisoned at Fort Marion from 1874 to 1878 along with 71 other Great Plains Indigenous warriors as a result of the Red River War. During the mid-nineteenth century, continuing their traditions of pictorial narratives usually depicted on buffalo hides, Indigenous groups of the Great Plains began drawing in ledger books. Ledger books were a common item used for recording transactions in various settler occupations, and Indigenous people used ledger books to draw various narratives related to male roles in society. As one of the most prolific warrior-artists imprisoned at Fort Marion, his ledger art visually communicates an Indigenous experience that is too often overwritten by colonial accounts. Regarding Fort Marion, scholars often rely on the written accounts of the time, mostly those of Lieutenant Richard Henry Pratt who was in charge. However, since ledger art serves a literary function, it is a significant source for Indigenous perspectives and experiences during the nineteenth century. Making Medicine adapts to life at Fort Marion, earning the title of first sergeant of the guard established by Lieutenant Pratt, and joins American society upon his release. However, his art reflects retention of Cheyenne culture. Making Medicine uses ledger art not only as documentation of events, but to display his authority and reinforce his prestige even as a prisoner of war. Making Medicine no longer produced ledger drawings after 1878 despite maintaining a position as a spiritual leader as a deacon of the Episcopal Church. We may not be able to determine the precise reasons Making Medicine drifted away from Cheyenne pictorial traditions, however, using the works that are provided for us, we can piece together the ways in which he negotiated his power and dignity during the years of his incarceration.

Quill Christie-Peters is an Anishinaabe artist who consciously represents her cultural identity within her artworks. Much of her work draws from her determination to connect to her heritage and how that has impacted how she presents herself to the world. Through abstract forms and bright colours, Peters demonstrates that her body is something that she cherishes and respects in consideration of her Anishinaabe culture. I was interested in her work because she bends the rules of what can be considered acceptable in  Indigenous art by depicting vulnerable content. Her experience as an Indigenous woman and how she views her own sexuality are explored within her artworks. It is crucial to the art world to have authenticity in art. Furthermore, Peters invites you to look upon some of her most intimate moments to show that she is proud of her cultural identity. I admire how Peters unapologetically uses her body in her art to represent the love she has for her culture and how that has shaped her as an individual. Through careful consideration of her work and artists alike, learning to love your body is a journey that allows individuals to understand their culture and make connections to their ancestors.

In North America and across the world, legacies of colonialism continue to affect Indigenous communities, their cultures, and their land. Contemporary artist Siku Allooloo (Inuit, Haitian, Taíno), a filmmaker, writer, and decolonial advocate, maintains an art practice that reckons with this postcolonial reality. Allooloo engages with her personal history to create art that engages with healing from colonialism, especially concerning connections broken by it: bonds of family, community, and faith. This presentation focuses on her mixed media works Akia, Sapajuji (Protector), and Spirit Emulsion. Through theories of kinship and decolonial practice, I will analyze how these pieces exemplify relationality and decoloniality. I argue that Allooloo’s enactment of kinship in her work, as reflected through family, place, and spirituality, serves as a healing, internal, and personal act of decolonization.

In the 1830s, French scholars initiated what Benjamin Keen termed an “archaeological conquest of Mexico.” Explorers tramped through the country in search of monuments to excavate, manuscripts to decipher, and artifacts to cart home to Europe. Many of these artifacts went on to form the core collection of the Louvre’s musée américain, which opened in 1850 and interred a vast collection of Mexican antiquities within the hallowed walls of France’s national museum. In 1861, Napoleon III invaded Mexico and soon after approved the formation of the Commission Scientifique du Mexique, a cohort of scholars whose archaeological division sought to exploit the country’s cultural patrimony in the same way the invading army was exploiting its current population and natural resources. Scholarship on French Americanism has largely focused on the latter quarter of the 19th century when the discipline had reached a certain maturity in terms of its organization and methodology. This thesis instead explores these earlier moments in its history in order to investigate how the scholarly activity undertaken on the pre-Hispanic history of Mexico informed and motivated France’s imperial ambitions in that country. It considers the development of archaeological procedure and purpose, the aestheticization–or lack thereof–of American antiquities in Europe, and the relationship between artifact collection and imperial self-fashioning.

Marian advocations provide a critical window into the globalization of Catholicism and cultural interactions that shaped early modern Spain and colonial Latin America. Virgin Mary devotions at this crossroads of contact and conversion connect nuanced threads of translation, popular veneration, and miraculous narratives. Transported to the Americas, the visual and textual iconography of Spanish Marian traditions held clear potential for local appeal, associating Mary with the more benign attributes of Indigenous mother goddesses. The Virgin, thus transformed into Catholic foundations for a profusion of distinctly local Marian apparition narratives. In this convergence, the Virgin of Guadalupe emerged in 1531 as a miraculous painting on an Indigenous Catholic convert’s tilma, an ephemeral vision made physical. Symbolic of two disparate worlds, New Spain’s Virgin of Guadalupe transcended cultural and linguistic divides between Indigenous and Spanish audiences and offered clear evidence of acts of translation and hybridization inherent to novohispano society.

In this paper, I question established definitions of translation, contending translation exists as a bridge between text and image, allowing authors and artists to transform description into depiction, and, conversely, pictorial representations into verbal narratives. I argue that the seventeenth and eighteenth-century dissemination of the Virgin of Guadalupe exemplifies this more nuanced meaning, as her widespread acceptance and adoption emerged from dual interpretations as both an Immaculate Virgin Mary and divine Indigenous deities. I propose that translation, applied as a theoretical approach within colonial Latin American art, engages with alternative forms of literacy and history, as heterogeneous Indigenous populations traditionally used pictorial charts and images as a means of transmission and preservation. Translation, from this perspective, presents a multivalent synthesis of diverse cultural and artistic traditions and offers valuable insight into the distinctly regional adaptations of Indigenous and globalized materials, styles, and motivations at the heart of colonial Latin American art.

Emerging from the romantic vision of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, the Tehuana has become an indisputable icon of Mexican national identity. La Tehuana is described as a mestiza or indigenous Zapotec woman who is characterized for her grace, strength, self-autonomy, and devotion to social participation in her community. The women of Tehuantepec have long been a subject of fascination by traveling artists who have crafted them to suit their own fetishized ideals and serve their socio-political interests. The tehuana was considered a suitable icon of mexicanidad, or the national heritage of mexicaness, as her historical heritage was thought to represent the grandeur of pre-Columbian civilizations. Their image has been continuously redesigned and repurposed for over two centuries. By surveying the visual evolution of the tehuana in relation to changing notions of mexicanidad, this analysis revisits the portrayal of her archetype throughout the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Drawing on Claudio Linati’s costumbrista lithograph Jeune Femme de Tehuantepec, this analysis examines Saturnino Herrán’s Woman of Tehuantepec, Diego Rivera’s Our Bread, Frida Kahlo’s Diego on my Mind [Self-portrait as a tehuana], and Julio Galan’s Tehuana en el Istmo de Tehuantepec. In reviewing the representations of the tehuana as a national icon, the historical narrative and cultural accuracy of these images is challenged. The authentic presentation and transformation of the tehuana reflects the changes in ideology in art, of women, and of the indigenous. The diverse permutations of her image culminate in her contemporary ideal, as the politicized Tehuana now becomes an active agent in her local community.

One dimension of the American relationship with Indigeneity that has been less considered in the context of Land Art is the archaeological — the growing Western interest in the excavation and display of pre-Columbian Latin American material culture during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Fantastical reconstructions of the ancient past, American expatriation of Latin American cultural heritage, and the hyper-scientification of processual archaeology distanced material artifacts from their autochthonous places and peoples, creating a new body of imagery for those living in the United States to extract from and project identities upon. This act of archaeological alienation is the precondition for the artistic production of prominent Land Artist Michael Heizer. It is a combination of many intertwined anthropological, cultural, emotional, physical, and temporal distances that shaped the American cultural landscape during the height of Heizer’s artistic production.

This presentation argues that Heizer’s works engage with these distances, allowing Heizer to play out concurrent dialogues of cowboy, “Indian”, back-to-the-earth spiritualist, and archaeologist. The artist simultaneously embodies the masculine American West, accesses the primordial, appropriates the pre-Columbian, responds to postwar nuclear anxiety, and stages scenes for later excavation through his language of modernist abstract geometry and treatment of materials. The result is a work that is site-specific, intervening in a specific location and immersing a viewer in a particular landscape, but not place-specific, lacking acknowledgement of local geology, history, identity, or residents. Artworks from Heizer’s oeuvre will elucidate his connections to the pre-Columbian and to archaeological practice of the twentieth century, including discussion of the strong influence of his father, prominent archaeologist Dr. Robert Heizer. Histories of Indigeneity and place will contextualize the situation of Heizer’s earthworks and his stated artistic intentions, relating their formal site-specificity to their lack of conceptual place specificity. The postwar problem of defining “Americanness” – American Art, American identity, and American values – will be explored as a backdrop to the development of Land Art and Michael Heizer’s artmaking. These contexts and connections will locate Heizer’s Land Art in a turbulent relationship with Indigeneity that is characterized by distance.

My paper analyzes the semiotics of holy bodies in Caravaggio’s 1602-4 painting for the Cavalletti chapel. Through comparison of this painting with Annibale Carracci’s Translation of the Holy House, which portrays the same Catholic miracle, my essay explores Caravaggio’s deviations from traditional religious iconography codified by the Council of Trent. Engaging with the post-structuralist semiotics of Jacques Derrida and Mieke Bal, I investigate the painted body of the Virgin as a semiotic signifier which signifies Western Christian divinity. In identifying the present characteristics which define the Virgin, and thus holiness, semiotic absences from Christian divinity become apparent, and a normative privileged class is constructed. Discussion contextualizes these rhetorical inclusions and exclusions in light of the artist’s life, socio-political environment and Papal history. I argue that the Virgin functions as a complex network of semiotic meaning which simultaneously privileges some groups while legitimizing the oppression of others. I explore the nuance of Caravaggio’s Virgin di Loreto and how it takes steps towards advocating for expanding access of divinity to lower-class Romans, while at the same time perpetuating oppression of non-Eurocentric people by positioning them as visual and thematic opposites to moral divinity. Through this discussion I provide a framework for analysis of Western holy bodies, encourage examination of the visual agents of invitation and alienation present in religious imagery, and explore how these agents continue to shape social dynamics of the privileged and the other. 

Bacchus, the Roman god of wine, revelry, and agriculture, has a consistent characterization throughout art history. As the youngest member of the fundamental Roman pantheon, he is often depicted in the Baroque period as visibly youthful, drunk, joyous, and surrounded by the adoration of his followers. Many Baroque artists drew inspiration from the god, be it through his myth or his iconic visage. Androgyny, sapphism, and phallic imagery are also associated with Bacchus, which seamlessly extends into both Caravaggio’s implementation of his lover as model for the deity and Velázquez’s careful depiction of Bacchus’ dress. These examples are used throughout my paper to analyze, compare, and contrast the variety of the god’s appearance.

By viewing Caravaggio’s Bacchus and Velázquez’s Los Borrachos through gender and queer-directed lenses, which impose the feminine and androgynous upon the apparent masculine, one can draw further connection between self-expression and art. Whether intentional or not, the differences of Bacchus’ appearance in art during the Baroque period not only reinforces the idea of centuries-old queerness, but also offers artists an explorative outlet for gender fluidity in a society that condemned such identities. As scholars like Scott and Caspo share, it is important to note that analyzing history from several centuries in the future will undoubtedly skew hypothesis from truth; yet there is still enough evidence to support the young god’s gender ambiguity to understand that well-informed artists such as Caravaggio and Velázquez would be aware of its presence. Because of this, those who are fascinated by the Baroque today – especially those who are queer themselves – can see themselves and draw meaning from such beautiful art.

Parrots are a frequent depiction in Northern Baroque art, mainly seen in works of women or Dutch household scenes. From an iconographic approach, parrots would have been used as a way to remind the artwork’s viewer to watch their own behavior or to demonstrate the status of painting’s commissioner. The role of good citizenship at home and in public was vital to Dutch society in the Northern Baroque period, and parrots would be important as a visual cue to watch one’s behavior. Various elements would lend such meanings to parrots and would give circumstance to a simple depiction of a bird. First, parrots would be seen as a luxury good since they would have to be imported into the Dutch Republic; only the wealthy would have been able to afford such a pet. Other meanings of parrots can be gained when looking at emblem books, a guideline for Dutch behavior with illustrated symbols. Parrots would have had a negative connotation when seen as a reminder for women not to get distracted from their domestic tasks. The parrot’s trait of mimicking what they hear would also give instruction on how to be an upstanding Dutch citizen. The idea of practice would be valued, including in instruments and domestic tasks just as the parrot practices its speech. In contrast, the idea of mimicry would be twisted as a way that one should watch their behavior, lest others learn from their own poor examples. With my research on this topic, I will investigate how parrots were used symbolically to represent complex ideas related to expectations held by the Dutch Republic with a close examination of artwork from Frans van Mieris, Jan Steen, Caspar Netchser, and other Dutch artists.

The Rococo is seldom approached from a feminist perspective. More often than not, scholarship surrounding the movement fetishises women as existing for the male gaze and employs language that removes women’s agency. Jean Honoré Fragonard’s painting The Happy Accidents of The Swing offers a different perspective. I argue that this composition, when analyzed formally and contextually through a feminist lens, instead portrays the woman as empowered. From a formal perspective, the woman is depicted as in control of the pictorial narrative. Her decision to swing, and seductively kick off her shoe, resides entirely with her. Her intentionality in causing the spectacle is further evident in her smirking expression. Fragonard also equates the woman with nature in that the foliage of the periphery grows towards her, and the undulations of her body follow those of the branches surrounding her. Because of her influence in narrative and fusion with nature, she is not relegated to existing for the male gaze, and is instead granted a sense of power. Historical evidence suggests that Fragonard was working under a dictum created by a woman. The iconic Parisian salon, made famous by Louis XIV, was in fact, brought to France by a woman in 1602, implying women’s influence in politics. Further, Madame de Pompadour, official mistress of Louis XV, oversaw one of the most prominent divisions of the Parisian court: the realm of fine arts. Pompadour is championed by some Rococo scholars as the sponsor and queen of the movement. Hence, I argue that Fragonard depicts a powerful woman because that is precisely what he saw. Because of the formal depiction, and women’s influence on stylistic dictates, I argue that Fragonard was not intending to depict a yielding, compliant woman as some scholarship suggests, but rather, an individual who is imbued with agency.

Caterina de Julianis was a 17th-18th century Neapolitan nun whose work has yet to be collectively analyzed. She created lifelike wax miniatures in elaborate dioramas; her surviving work Penitent Magdalene is only 10 9/16 x 10 5/8 inches. Julianis’ work is detailed and depicts religious devotion to rotting corpses. The macabre and divine added to the memento mori tradition of the Baroque. Julianis’ miniatures are immaculately finished and include different materials such as feathers, plant matter, and silk. Her work is among many of the wax miniature traditions observed in Sicily and Naples. However, wax art has been ignored as a decorative art and even denigrated from works of art to specimens. For example, artwork by Giulio Gaetano Zumbo, Julianis’ mentor, was moved during the 20th century from the art museum, the Bargello, to the natural history museum, La Specola, where wax anatomical models are kept. Prior research on Julianis is scant, but art historian Jane Eade has questioned if Julianis was a nun. To this point, the earliest record of Julianis, Vite de’ pittori, scultori ed architetti napoletani by Bernardo de Dominici in 1743, does not mention her being a nun. I will explore the opportunities afforded to women in the 17th-18th century and theorize what Julianis’ life was like. My paper is the first attempt to holistically analyze Julianis’ work and provide insights into how miniatures were categorized in art history, and how they were viewed and interpreted in museums and churches.

William Hogarth, one of the first British artists to achieve international recognition, enjoyed great popularity throughout his career and posthumously. This acclaim is quite remarkable considering Hogarth’s modest upbringing, informal artistic training, and creation of works that often went against traditional standards of high art. The contemporary subjects frequently depicted by Hogarth were not only seen as disreputable, but most of his modern moral subjects critiqued the very echelons of society he sought to gain respect from. Hogarth’s popularity and success can largely be attributed to his variation across different production techniques, genres of high and low art, and intended audience. An understanding of the rigid systems that shaped fine taste and high art in eighteenth-century Britain, however, raises the question: how was Hogarth able to accrue such wide success within all corners of the British art market? I aim to demonstrate that Hogarth’s success depended upon innovative business strategies and marketing techniques. This presentation will capture the essence of my thesis through a narrowed comparison of Hogarth’s printed works where the artist’s innovation and entrepreneurial drive are most evident. I examine Hogarth’s success through the lens of an urbanized London and developing print market; and the marketing tactics and aesthetic considerations employed by Hogarth to successfully capture this market. To begin, this presentation will provide background on the developing eighteenth-century print market and newly commercialized art market to outline the opportunities presented to Hogarth and other artists working within urban London. The presentation will then shift to address specific ways in which Hogarth harnessed the newly commodified print market to find success, status, and wide recognition. An in-depth analysis of the distinctive marketing techniques, pictorial content, and production methods utilized by Hogarth in Marriage A- la-mode and Beer Street & Gin Lane will exemplify the intended effects of his highly conscious movements within the print market. Marriage A-la-mode and the pair Beer Street & Gin Lane were produced and marketed in ways that showcase clear differences in their purpose and intended audience. A comparison of these prints highlights Hogarth’s conscious employment of various tools and tactics to target different audiences, demonstrating that Hogarth’s wide appeal and unprecedented success was no incident of mere luck, but rather the result of calculated business moves and marketing techniques.

Through deciphering the iconographical and zoomorphic images, materiality, and history behind the 1782 (Jewish year 5542) Torah Shield by Elimelekh Tzoref of Stanislav, I will show that it reflects the complexity of the cultural context of the Jewish community in eighteenth century Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth as well as to illuminate the distinctive local artistic language influenced by the Germanic roots of the Ashkenazi communities and Kabbalah Judaism. The paper hones on the distinctive use of animal imagery within the façade of the Torah shield, especially considering that given the second commandment’s prohibition of graven images it is odd that any animal would have been chosen to be near the Ark—let alone on the Torah itself. The unusual presence of animal imagery can be linked to the changing religious environment of southeastern Poland and Ukraine, as the birthplace of Hasidism and heavily influenced by Kabbalah. The proliferation of mystic piety and use of animal imagery within the religious practices of these communities speaks to the creation of a cultural climate where the symbols on the Torah shield are interpreted as meaningful and fitting. Kabbalistic texts stress the role of visualization in honoring God, specifically on meditating on the exotic creatures, both heavenly and earthly. The influential literary Kabbalah text, the Zohar, provides a rich visual and complex metaphorical imagery using animal and plant images for metaphoric expression. Emphasis on the Zohar and its related literature on the story of creation can be interpreted as the cause for the abundance of zoomorphic images. The proliferation of animal figures can therefore be seen to honor God’s majesty. Placement of the animal figure roundlets, on the facade of the Torah Shield, as being reminiscent of the main symbol of Kabbalah, the ten Sefirot, further indicates the extent of the influence by the Zohar.

The economic prosperity and cross-cultural exchanges of empires are reflected in their artisan industries, a phenomenon exemplified by the ceramics of the Islamic World, the Spanish Empire, and the Portuguese Empire. By analyzing patterns of colors, techniques, and motifs, trade routes and economic centers can be identified. Ceramics are especially efficient in this task because of their appearance everywhere from homes and palaces and the flexibility of uses for the medium itself. Imperial artisans, influenced by intercultural interactions, initially replicated techniques and color palettes, gradually evolving into unique styles that mirrored the identity of their respective empires. These ceramics not only became visually distinctive but also underwent enhancements in both materials and techniques. Consequently, they serve as a compelling visual language, narrating the shifting ideologies, economic landscapes, and cultural identities within each empire. This paper argues that studying the evolution of ceramic industries across empires provides a deeper understanding of their economic state and interconnectedness, as well as their roles in shaping and reflecting the broader societal changes.

During the period between the end of the Great War and Hitler’s rise to power, Germany experienced a time of general calm and peace. With the dangers of war behind them, individuals living in the Weimar Republic – especially artists – began focusing on other aspects of life. Some even sought to push conventional boundaries more than they ever had before, namely Berlin’s “New Women”. These modern women began to explore not only alternative lifestyles and societal roles, but sexuality and gender expression as well. Unlike their male counterparts, queer women in the Weimar Republic were not persecuted by law, but instead simply disregarded. This denial of visibility gave way to the formation of a queer female subculture that is represented in the artworks of female artists who interacted with this scene. Notable works were created by artists Jeanne Mammen and Hannah Höch, who both showcased nuanced portrayals of same-sex female relationships and androgyny in their oeuvre. Pulling inspiration from the conflicting sources of mass media and underground queer nightlife, these artists created works that reflect many aspects of the queer female experience. Their various nuanced portrayals reveal truly how much these “New Women” pushed the boundaries of sexuality and gender expression in the Weimar Republic, leading the way for future generations.

Hannah Höch (1889-1978) is known for her involvement with the Berlin Dada movement, which frequently took up ironic mimicry to decry the modernist rationalization that governed the Weimar Republic. Höch would extend this approach in her photomontage series, Aus einem ethnographischen Museum (1924-32) and Liebe (1924-32), in which she juxtaposed images of African art objects and bodies and European women’s bodies, creating hybrid figures. Scholars have read the works in these series as critical of the shortcomings of women’s emancipation in the Weimar Republic and the creation of the Neue Frau as the ideal consumer, apparent outgrowths of capitalist rationalization. In the 1931 montage Liebe, Höch combined European and African fragments specifically to depict same-sex relations. If Höch criticized the rationalization that manifested as an increased pathologization of women’s behavior, this paper proposes that she might have extended this criticality to the fields of sexology and ethnography, which similarly sought to categorize behavior in order to reach an inalienable truth. I argue that Liebe can be read as a critique of the strict and interrelated boundaries that these disciplines attempted to impart on non-heterosexuals, proposing instead a way of being that defied rationalization entirely. I suggest that Höch’s persistent references to ethnography were directly related to her relationship with Til Brugman, and in doing so question how queer Europeans related to the racial Other. This paper is grounded in Höch’s biography, correspondence, photomontage, and the writings of Til Brugman. Weimar lesbian periodicals and the theories of both sexologists and ethnographers are also utilized to gauge the unique relationship of sexology to ethnography. I utilize visual and biographical analysis, in combination with socio-political analysis, bridging print culture and art history. It is novel in its approach, uniting considerations of sexology, ethnography, and gender in Höch’s work, rather than treating them separately.

The visual links between France’s Art Nouveau posters and those from San Francisco’s 1960s psychedelic scene, whether they be their richly saturated color palettes or their free-flowing curvilinear compositions, are no mere coincidence. In fact, such visual parallels were engineered by psychedelic artists to recall Art Nouveau’s rejection of artistic hierarchy. Art Nouveau posters revolutionized previously held conceptions about art’s form and content, and so countercultural artists aligned themselves with this fin-de-siècle sense of revolution by paying homage to the artistic strides made by their predecessors in their own posters. Existing scholarship seeks to define this relationship between Art Nouveau and Psychedelia strictly through similarity. By working within this limited scope, researchers neglect the true role of a productive retrospective art movement, which is to reevaluate and make relevant the movement which it takes inspiration from. This paper demonstrates that it was Bonnie Maclean, a 1960s poster artist for the San Francisco Fillmore Auditorium, who pushed the status of Art Nouveau’s psychedelic revival beyond cultural kinship by establishing it as a distinct revolution in its own right. Maclean’s work is seldom discussed at length in academic literature, a blind spot that stems from Maclean’s dismissal by her male contemporaries and her exclusion from artistic collectives like the Big Five. The problematic gender dynamics that

promoted the reductive treatment of Maclean in the 1960s continue to be reflected in research conducted today. Maclean’s posters experimented with artistic genre, the female form, and non-western culture portrayal in unique ways that transcend Art Nouveau’s outdated elements and propel the psychedelic movement’s status from imitation to inspired innovation. By giving Maclean’s work the attention it deserves, this innovation can be more fully unearthed to offer a better understanding of the dually cyclical and evolutionary nature of art and culture as a whole.

In the 1970s, artist Nan Goldin began documenting the rich social scene of New York City’s Greenwich Village through hundreds of snapshot-style photographs. Goldin compiled many of these photographs into a slide show exhibition entitled The Ballad of Sexual Dependency, in 1985. This series provides an intimate look inside the personal lives of Goldin and her close friends by juxtaposing hedonistic party scenes with somber images of individuals grappling with drug abuse and domestic violence. Goldin’s interest in documenting her personal life fits into a greater shift in documentary-style photography that emphasized the self as the subject, artists turning inward in their search for meaning. This paper analyzes the duality of Goldin’s presence both behind and in front of the camera by examining what is arguably the defining photograph of the series, Nan and Brian in Bed, NYC (1983). This paper aims to situate Goldin’s work in conversation with that of her predecessors, Larry Clark and Robert Frank, by examining the relationship between photojournalism and objectivity. Furthermore, I relate Goldin’s artistic practice to the methodology of the Cinéma Vérité film movement which sought to challenge the artifice of the film industry in the 1960s. Ultimately, I argue that Goldin’s Nan and Brian in Bed, NYC challenges assumptions about how truth is told through photojournalism by obscuring the boundaries that traditionally separate the artist, observer, and subject.

Over the past twenty years, art historical scholarship has proliferated on histories of the work of female photographers and feminist textile practice. Rarely, if ever, have histories of contemporary research delved into the intersection of the two. In response to this problem, this paper will be looking at research and examinations of nostalgia in photography, visual connections to 20th-century lesbian iconographies and theory, and histories of textile politics to show a gap in scholarship regarding queer female art. While increases in engagement with feminist composition have grown with the expansion of rights movements in the 1980s and global societal change at the start of the 1990s, many works of this nature remain unearthed and neglected. Recent contemporary work by Miami-based artist Carrie Sieh serves as a visual marker of the growing gap in this combination of media. Sieh’s muted color palettes and textured inkjet prints build on themes of nostalgic photography, and her use of embroidery references female craft histories. Sieh also uses stereotypical references to subject matter that allude to the work of her predecessors, such as Zoe Leonard and Berenice Abbott. Existing research of historians and theorists in the field, such as George Baker and Julia Bryan-Wilson, only seem to attack the standalone factors of this intersection. Analyzing this scholarship in combination with each other, though, offers a profound insight into stereotypical expectations and histories of queer feminist art. I argue that art theorists and researchers alike must begin to draw connections to how female textile practice, photographic practices, and written theories intersect to create a fuller picture of queer feminist representation in art history.

My paper responds to the socio-economic denial of art work as a form of labor. Though art work is categorized separately from other types of social production, suggested Hannah Arendt, for both the intangible nature of its instrument — thought — and the “uselessness” of artworks compared to use objects, art work still requires the same process of reification/fabrication as all other types of work do. The exceptional character of artistic labor does not exempt it from the “toil and trouble” of all types of labor, but rather lies in its capacity to foster social relations that do not align with the hegemonic models determined by capitalism. This paper investigates how artists Pilvi Takala and Mierle Laderman Ukeles mobilize the body as their main creative vehicles in their respective projects to participate in the art as/and labor discourse. Both Takala and Ukeles situate their creative processes in the contexts of other types of social production — Takala posed as an intern at a marketing department for her month-long project, The Trainee (2008); Ukeles worked as the artist-in-residence at the New York Sanitation Department (NYDS). Predicating on social engagement, these two artists’ works lent visibility to previously unquestioned circumstances in the contexts they infiltrated by re-situating these circumstances into the realm of art-making. Namely, via their artistic intervention, Takala critically reflected on established social norms and boundaries in contemporary corporate offices; Ukeles drew attention to the (under)value of maintenance work. Positioning their practices in trans-disciplinary domains, both artists utilized the “perceived exceptionality” of art work to challenge and/or re-imagine social relations in the labor spheres that they intervened in, and in turn reframed the nature of art labor.

The product of extensive staging, posing, and premeditation, Buck Ellison’s Gymnastic Routine (Sierra) is laden with odd juxtapositions and elements of disjuncture. The layered photographic composition is centralized around a young gymnast performing a split atop a canon surrounded by a sun-bathed, modernist interior. Presenting a type of curatorial cross section of white wealth and privilege in America, Ellison intentionally overlaps these disparate elements to produce a photograph that simultaneously slices through our current socioeconomic reality and reconstructs that reality in the form of pseudo-portrait. The final photograph, an assemblage of inexplicit associations, subtext, and significant objects, effectively visualizes both the lineage and current manifestation of American white wealth. Through my historical and formal analysis, I aim to dissect the less obvious layers of Ellison’s image and identify the strategies he uses for materializing white privilege as a both a distinct entity and as a concept that can be physically framed through eclectic allusions to historical narratives. I discuss the emergence of tanning, the evolution of modern women’s gymnastics, the proliferation of militarized capital accumulation, and the rise of 19th century Gothic armories, to name a few. In addition to considering the reification of white wealth, my deconstruction of Ellison’s intricately woven composition has the added effect of connecting the image to his greater commentary on the photograph as a political tool capable of revealing that which has been intentionally shrouded from public sight. By looking at dynamics between power and the state of being perceived, I evaluate the ways in which Ellison’s visual distillation and photographic portrayal of the modern white elite is ultimately an act of defiance.