California State University, Northridge

CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY, NORTHRIDGE

The Tensions of Breaking Tradition

A graduate project submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements

For the degree of Master of Arts in Art, Visual Art

Anne Tufenkjian

May 2018

The graduate project of Anne Tufenkjian is approved:

______Samantha Fields, MFA Date

______Michelle Rozic, MFA Date

______Patsy Cox, MFA, Chair Date

California State University, Northridge

iii

Dedications

I would like to dedicate this paper to my mother, Seda Tufenkjian, and my grandmother, Anahid Demirchian, who have been the strongest, most courageous and independent female figures in my life. Thank you for allowing me to make my own decisions, continuously encouraging all my pursuits, and supporting all my endeavors.

Table of Contents

Copyright Page ii Signature Page iii Dedications iv Abstract vi Introduction 1 Material and Process 3 Works 5 The Initial Break from Tradition 6 Art Within the Domestic Setting 11 Issues of Identity 14 Body Consciousness 19 Awareness Within Community 23 Conclusion 25 Works Cited 26 Appendix: Images 28

Abstract

The Tensions of Breaking Tradition

By Anne Tufenkjian Master of Arts in Art, Visual Art

As a first-generation Armenian-American woman, my practice is informed by my personal journey and struggles with gender-specific roles and expectations, religion, and racial stereotyping. Through ceramics, sculpture, printmaking, and painting, I strive to confront misogynistic expectations of patriarchy within the Armenian community.

My mixed-media sculptures become a hybrid between abstract and representational forms, combining the female body and traditional Armenian motifs.

Representational forms function as an entry point, while abstractions serve as modifications of reality, corresponding with the social change necessary to conjoin traditional and nontraditional viewpoints.

Touching upon issues such as virtue, body consciousness, and women’s roles within the domestic setting, I bring to light the tensions of coexisting in a home with traditional Armenian values within American society.

Introduction

This body of work addresses the lack of contemporary feminist understanding found in Armenian communities in the United States. Born and raised in Los Angeles,

California, which has one of the largest Armenian diasporas in the world, my work is grounded in my personal experience of being a first-generation Armenian-American influenced by both cultures. The work intends to question certain traditions and values, both in Armenian and American cultures. By creating this work, I strive to not only question, but to also problem-solve why cultures hold on to tradition, why it is so difficult to break away from tradition, and why first-generation individuals sometimes feel like outcasts in both of their cultures.

Addressing patriarchal notions of virtue, body consciousness, and women’s roles within the domestic setting, I expose tensions found in the home between traditional

Armenian values and contemporary American society. By breaking away from traditional ceramic practice, which limits me to the use of clay and glaze alone, I am working to create an interdisciplinary language by combining ceramic materials with other sculptural materials such as fabric, hair, gold, and wire. Although many of my sculptures are primarily made of ceramics, I use multiple media to mirror assimilation amongst social cultures with the mixing of art disciplines.

My mixed-media sculptures integrate representational forms from the female body and traditional Armenian, abstract motifs. Representational forms function as the entry point while abstractions modify reality, reconciling traditional and nontraditional forms and viewpoints. The work is intended for audiences from all backgrounds, regardless of how much they know about art. In my own experience, it is easier to grasp

1 ideas when looking at forms mimicking those seen in reality, as compared to looking at non-objective abstractions. Contemplating possibilities for change through the fluid lens of self-reflection, I am exploring the middle ground of respecting, honoring, questioning, and refuting tradition.

Material and Process

By experimenting with materials and techniques, I learned to embrace the use of various processes and media, combining ceramics, sculpture, painting, and printmaking in my practice. My forms are inspired by the female figure, abstracted into smooth folds, lumps, and discombobulated body parts to highlight the objectification of women. They are later ornamented with traditional Armenian patterns and motifs, representative of my ethnic background and the connection I have to my cultural heritage. The direct connection of working with materials is what gives me a direct connection to the work conceptually, where the use of Armenian patterns and traditions being discussed becomes a vital part in understanding the work. By working in various media simultaneously, I draw a correlation to my life in the Armenian diaspora, immersed in both Armenian and

American society. I utilize sculptural ideals of mixed-media and interdisciplinary practice to combine disciplines and experiment with cross-contamination, such as combining printmaking with ceramics. I use materials such as wire, gold, hair, lint, and fabric, in order to create a multifaceted way to conceptually talk about the work.

In my work, concepts are foundations that inform the process and materials that I use. Personal experiences spark an idea, and I think about how to visually represent that idea. Whether the end product will be two-dimensional or three-dimensional, I start with multiple sketches. After choosing which sketch works best, based on which form best conveys my concept, I start to create the piece. The initial sketch is useful as it gives direction to form and composition, though sometimes the piece takes life of its own soon after the building process begins, with changes required in form or material to most effectively bring the concepts to life. There are times when I work intuitively, having no

3 ideas or sketches as a starting point. By allowing the materials and forms to lead the direction, the work becomes a call and response between my will as the artist and the properties inherent to the materials. An exercise in technical practice, such as throwing on the wheel or hand-building an abstracted form, will spark an idea. The resulting forms will be pushed further into a new direction, for instance, manipulated to look like body parts. My approach to concept building is both analytical and fluid, where I am fully aware of process, but at times I also allow the materials to act as they may.

Works

Growing up in the United States in a traditional Armenian household, I was raised to appreciate close family ties, while being independent and having the ability to make my own choices in life. The combination of my Armenian upbringing and Americanized lifestyle has created a cultural tension I am interested in exploring. In August of 2017, I got married in what many Armenians would consider a nontraditional wedding. The months leading to the big day were spent arguing with family on the correctness of our wedding decisions, from who to invite, to expected pre-wedding ceremony traditions, to which denomination of church to use as a venue. This experience, of having to justify my partner’s and my decisions to family, is what initially led me to my current body of work.

In my work, I explore issues revolving around gender and identity. Through the lens of a first-generation individual, I try to understand the displacement of my parents, their struggle of adapting to a new environment, and having to raise children in an environment different than the one where they were raised. Double standards, racial stereotyping, and not fitting into either American or Armenian culture are topics I investigate. Looking outside the scope of the Armenian diaspora, I delve into issues revolving around body positivity and idealized beauty standards within American culture and how they influence the rest of the world.

The Initial Break from Tradition

Throughout the process of planning our wedding, there were many voices from multiple directions offering us opinions disguised as advice. Although both my husband and I are ethnically Armenian, as first-generation children of immigrants, we consider ourselves Armenian-Americans. We both knew we wanted a small, affordable wedding with some Armenian pre-marital traditions, such as the bride and groom being dressed by family. We quickly learned that we were not able to plan the simple wedding we wanted without having a few arguments, upsetting a handful of family members, and breaking a few traditions along the way.

As the bride, I personally felt targeted because the bride and her family traditionally plan the wedding. My family constantly asked me about my future plans as a married woman, inquiring how early I plan to get pregnant, whether I will work or be a housewife, and if I was ready to take on the obligation of taking care of my in-laws. I felt that I was an object, sold through an unspoken contract being written up for my husband to sign off on, with specific rules and expectations I must obey. The family found it absurd when my partner and I mentioned we would be splitting wedding expenses equally, as it is customary for the groom’s family to pay for the wedding in full. Instead of trusting our decisions about having an affordable, debt-free wedding, we were questioned about why we were not inviting nearly five-hundred relatives combined, commenting on how insulted they were by our disrespect toward family ties. At this point, we were being blamed for breaking many traditions, and quite frankly, we were.

Tradition can be a positive thing. It can give people a sense of belonging in their community, helping family reconnect through the familiar. Through it, younger

6 generations can rely on the knowledge of their ancestors to understand the way they interacted with one another. Their cumulative years of sociological understanding set rules for etiquette, to help protect and guide future generations through life. Tradition also teaches people a lesson in selflessness, forcing them to engage with community on a larger scale.

Even though social media amplifies the aspect of interconnectedness tradition aims to instill within society, the physical connection of gathering is lost. In the hustle and bustle of contemporary life, many do not necessarily prioritize tradition over practicality. Values change as society advances, and with that, some traditions become harder to justify. “The problem of tradition intensifies when value judgments intervene.

Feelings about authority, about the virtue of the past, about the state of the present, shape the positive and negative value given tradition” (Bronner, 10). Born into a different era than that of my elders, I am posed with a different set of value judgments. Whether or not to follow tradition becomes a pivotal point in the cultural shift towards a contemporary era.

As mentioned before, many traditions were broken while planning this wedding.

Instead of choosing an elderly couple from the groom’s side of the family as godfather, or

քավոր (kahvohr), and godmother, or քավոր կին (kahvohr keen), whose obligations consist of partaking in the wedding ceremony with the couple, vowing to be their guide in marriage, and overseeing all financial matters regarding the wedding, we chose to choose our own maid-of-honor and best man. That being said, we decided to split the cost of the wedding equally, not relying on family to cover costs for us. We also decided to meet directly at the church before the wedding, upholding the western tradition of the groom

7 not seeing the bride before the wedding, as compared to Armenian tradition where the groom and his family come to the bride’s house and escort the couple to the church as a group. During that time, a male from the bride’s side, typically her brother or close male relative, holds an ornate dagger at the door, just as the couple is to leaving the bride’s home, bribing the groom for cash to let the two leave. He blocks off the doorway until he is satisfied with the amount he is paid, insinuating that the amount of money paid is what the groom’s family finds the bride’s worth to be.

Next, we chose to not have our wedding ceremony in an Armenian Orthodox church, opting for an Armenian Evangelical church instead. This decision confused family because most family was accustomed to attending traditional Armenian Orthodox weddings. Because we both have large families, our guest count had reached approximately five-hundred guests. To prevent insulting any friends and family members because we could not afford to invite them, we decided to have a large wedding ceremony instead of a large reception. To us, the ceremony itself is the celebration, the moment when a couple takes their vows and is wed in front of God and witnesses. I have been to many Armenian weddings, and the church was never full but the reception hall always was. That is why we chose to focus the wedding on the ceremony itself, followed by an intimate reception dinner with just immediate family and close friends.

For Sale (Image 1) is the first creation in my body of work as a direct response to my experiences of planning my wedding. It is a reflective piece commenting on how women are treated as objects for sale, married off to the highest bidder, reinforcing beliefs that a woman should marry a rich man. It also comments on how women are viewed as not being allowed to make their own marital decisions and must remain silent

8 while their perceived monetary worth is negotiated between the two families. The patterned platform in the work is covered in a traditional Armenian textile. It acts as the bases on which these negotiations are being made. The breast forms act as women being viewed as sexualized objects, discombobulated to literally one body part, symbolizing women’s role as simply child bearers and vessels for nourishment, as well as women as sexual objects for male pleasure in contemporary society. Lastly, the white tulle symbolizes marriage. Both in contemporary Armenian and American wedding ceremonies, white tulle is commonly used in the bride’s veil to symbolize her purity, just as these objects are veiled and placed on display.

What makes Red apples the Best kind of apples? (Image 2) is a work based on an

Armenian post-marital tradition called Կարմիր խնձոր (Kahrmeer Khndzohr), meaning Red Apple, celebrating a bride’s virginity. The morning following a couple’s wedding night, the best man will call the groom to find out if his wife had bled during consummation to ascertain whether or not she was a virgin before marriage. If she in fact had bled, her virginity is honored as the groom’s family parades to the bride’s parents’ home, bearing baskets of red apples amongst other gifts. If she had not bled, the groom’s family does not bring red apples, scorning the bride and her parents, and at times, going as far as demanding a divorce. This tradition is still practiced not only in Armenia, but in

Armenian diasporas around the world.

In my opinion, the Red Apple tradition is a violation of one’s privacy, opening the individual’s personal life to speculation amongst immediate family, distant relatives, and strangers alike. It not only touches upon issues of privacy, but the way women are valued based on virtue, where, in this instance, their virginity becomes the defining point of their

9 value. Furthermore, the trust between husband and wife is brought into question, with families being an influencing factor on the age at which young women are married, who they are married to in accordance to arranged marriages, and pressures of childbearing.

Domestic violence and rape are also a problem, with women being forced to perform their “wifely duties” without having a say in their sexual development.

The title of What makes Red apples the Best kind of apples? questions who has authority to decide what a woman’s worth is, based on her virginity status. This ceramic sculpture, referential to female genitalia, has openings through which the viewer can look into, where they will find a pool of bloodlike resin and a single resin-cast red apple. The act of coming close to the sculpture and finding the red apple symbolizes the invasion of a woman’s body in rituals such as the Red Apple tradition. The bloodlike drip, dripping down the opening where the apple is located, signifies violence of male sexual dominance in arranged marriages.

Art Within the Domestic Setting

Throughout history, there have been many attempts at defining “high” art and

“low” art. Labeled as “craft” and “decorative” art, sewing, quilting, weaving, embroidery, and needlework, to name a few, have not been regarded as highly as mediums such as painting or sculpture in the fine art world, simply described as women’s work (“Women’s

Work”). But the presence of women’s work, as high or as low as it may be, has provided women with a creative avenue to explore and express their artistic talents. Breaking away from decorative and kitsch art, women started to define their identities as serious fine artists, using media not only highly regarded in traditional art, but bringing in the familiar. During the Women’s Liberation Movement in the 1960’s, female artists started to show their feminist ideals through a woman’s perspective (“Feminist Art Movement”).

Art was no longer about aesthetics and beauty, but used to talk about social and political issues in pursuit of gender equality.

Under the direction of Judy Chicago and Miriam Schapiro, from 1971 to 1972,

Womanhouse was a large-scale cooperative project executed as part of the Feminist Art

Program at CalArts. Contained in an abandoned mansion, the Womanhouse exhibition introduced feminism to the general public, which was quite revolutionary in the early

1970s (“Womanhouse 1972”). Sparking lots of debate, the exhibition was an example of how feminism could embrace what is considered domestic instead of pushing away from it. The works were an exploration into “women’s work” within the “woman’s house.”

Seeking to challenge the Western world’s ideology on women’s labor, twenty-one female artists were granted the opportunity to present work revolving around stereotypically

“feminine” tasks, such as cooking, sewing, knitting, and laundry (“Miriam Schapiro”).

Taking traditional female experiences and placing them in a fine art setting,

Womanhouse took the private, domestic setting and gave voice to social and political awareness.

Judy Chicago’s “The Dinner Party,” created between 1974 and 1979, is perhaps one of the most well-known pieces of Feminist art in existence. This installation, housed at the Center for Feminist Art at the Brooklyn Museum, “consists of a large triangular banquet table with place settings for 39 notable women from history and mythology.”

Each of these thirty-nine table settings are unique, painted with butterfly and vulva inspired imagery, representing Mother Nature, the vagina, and the female’s ability of the creation of life. By placing this type of imagery on platters and tableware instead of an actual meal, Judy Chicago draws attention to the identity of the female instead of a veiled existence of the female behind the meal she prepares. Furthermore, the names of nine hundred and ninety-nine other contributing women are painted on the tiles below the triangular table (“The Dinner Party”). Working in mixed-media, using textiles, tile, and porcelain, Judy Chicago proved that “women’s work” can be used in a manner where it is now “high art.”

The Pattern and Decoration Movement, taking place from the mid 1970s to the early 1980s, was an art movement in the United States consisting of educated, female artists, initially working with abstract art in the 1960s. The goal of these artists was to use decorative pattern, typically viewed as “feminine” and “crafty”, bringing them to a heightened pedestal. Combining designs, such as those on wallpapers and printed fabrics, with techniques such as sewing, quilting, and embroidery, they yearned to bring a modernist feel to nostalgic imageries. The word “femmage,” coined by Miriam Shapiro,

12 was a term used to describe the use of a combination of “feminine” techniques used in a fine art context (Cotter).

Referencing work created during the Pattern and Decoration Movement, Bad

Wife’s Oven Mitts (Image 3) introduces feminist thought into the domestic Armenian setting. Using the pronto plate printing process, imagery and text are printed onto floral fabric, then sewn into a pair of oven mitts. The print consists of a decorative, patterned edge with Armenian text in the center that reads Ամoթ: (Ahmot), which translates to

“Shame on you.” This work talks about brides never being good enough in the eyes of their in-laws or even their husbands. In a traditional Armenian kitchen, a bride is expected to cook for her husband, but the eldest female living in the household is still in charge of the kitchen. The tastes people grow up with are triggers for immense nostalgia.

In Armenia, the main dishes are well known but vary from region to region, where the main ingredients are consistent but have slight variations in spices. Because the bride traditionally moves into the groom’s family home, the tension of creating dishes the way one has been taught, as compared to how one’s in-laws make them, is enough reason for scornful comments on a bride’s cooking never being good enough.

Issues of Identity

The struggle of the first-generation individual goes beyond dealing with issues of their parent’s displacement and their contrasting views on lifestyle and culture. It is an issue of not being culturally proficient enough in either pool. I identify as both Armenian and American, using the hyphenated Armenian-American term. Having attended a private Armenian school from kindergarten to 12th grade, I learned to read and write in

Armenian, became familiarized with Armenian history and mythology, and partook in

Armenian Orthodox Church choir. After graduating high school, I found myself breaking out of the parameters created by the Armenian diaspora of Los Angeles. I felt like I was an outcast from the Armenian community because I would question some of their values and found some Armenian traditions moot. At the same time, I was proud of my ethnic background and felt I was not American enough, having grown up in a sheltered

Armenian community.

The Lesser Caucasus of the Caucasus Mountains, from which the term Caucasian is derived, is geographically located in Armenia. Despite this fact, Armenians have struggled to establish a definite demographic classification. Seeking refuge in the United

States after the Armenian Genocide of 1915, immigrants struggled with classification, with court cases such as US vs. Cartozian in 1925 when “…the United States attempted to cancel the certificate of naturalization of an Armenian American immigrant”

(Okoomian, 219). Although Armenians are legally classified as white or Caucasian,

“…Armenian Americans occupy a racial borderland” (Okoomian, 221). This racial borderland is the in-between space where individuals are technically classified as white but viewed as “other”.

I’ll Pass on that Nose Job (Image 4) comments on society’s obsession with physical beauty and conforming to Western notions of beauty. In the Armenian diaspora of Los Angeles in which I grew up, having a high-bridged nose, ethnically characteristic with Armenians, seems to be a typically undesirable feature, and the reason why many

Armenian women turn to plastic surgery. Instead of embracing their ethnic features, the

Western ideal of having a small, straight nose is favored. At times, family elders will even encourage young girls to get nose jobs. This hunger for idealized beauty becomes prioritized, objectifying the individual. The fear of not finding a suitor, getting married, having children, and living the “perfect” domestic life is, in part, what drives this hunger.

Other motivational factors include “…assimilation, stereotypes, social mobility, identification, and conformity” (Macgregor, 125).

The title for I’ll Pass on the Nose Job is my personal response to the countless times I have been told my nose is too big. I, myself, am comfortable with the size and shape of my nose. Instead of changing it, I embrace my features and do not find it necessary to make alterations to please a small handful of individuals. The headpiece on the figure, made of fabric with traditional Armenian patterns, frames the face and centers the focus onto the nose. Crisp and precise shapes are water-etched into unfired clay, embedding patterns into the forehead, nose, and nape of the figure. Placed on the floor, the figure looks up at the viewer with a slight tilt of the head. The only facial feature is a gold-encrusted, ornate nose with a high bridge.

The dark, blue-black coloration of the piece references jewelry stands, acting as a silhouetted background for precious metals to rest on. In this way, the figure becomes the silhouette and the nose becomes a precious object of beauty, proudly bearing traditional

15 ethnic patterns, as well as an ethnic facial feature. The figure is modeled to be slender with a protruding spine running down its back, indicating malnourishment and extremities of pressures of weight loss and body alteration. The positioning on the floor places the work in a vulnerable position, the viewer looking down at it, inspecting it from all sides. The tilt in the head signifies the openness to the viewer’s opinions, yet the firmly grounded triangular composition signifies firm beliefs and unyielding positivity on self-image.

No is a powerful word. It is sometimes seen as an aggressive and negative word due to its association with rejection. If we were to argue that the communicative paradigm of saying no can be just as positive as saying yes, the notion that no-saying is hostile could be drawn out (White). In the Armenian community, women are taught not to argue, talk back, rebuttal, question things, and say no. When I was younger, I was so adamant on finding my own path that the word “no” became my go-to response. I would use it so frequently that my parents would tease me about it. Whether it was parents asking me if I needed help, telling me to act a certain way because I was not acting ladylike, or telling me not to answer back to my elders even though I found hypocrisy in what they were saying, my answer was no. I wanted to let them know that they cannot simply silence me, and that my curiosity will continue to grow. For me, saying no to something I did not agree with was not a way for me to be negative; it was simply a way for me to look for answers and question things.

No was a word I would also hear from my elders repeatedly. If I wanted to go out, their answer was mostly no. I understood their struggles went beyond learning to speak

English and finding stable jobs, but also dealt with how to raise my brother and I, keeping

16 us safe from harm, while instilling a sense of Armenian culture in us. Their protectiveness would often prevent me from experiencing activities peers my age were doing, such as sleeping over at friends’ houses, going to parties, or going out after it was dark. They would say the world is not always safe, and even though I understood their duties as parents for keeping me safe, I found their no’s hard to justify when my brother would ask for the same things and they would say yes. The assumption that I am weak and defenseless because of my gender made me question their judgments and that of society’s as well.

no. (Image 5) is a work that talks about the tensions between two sides of an argument. In Armenian, the period symbol (:) is written like the English colon. The function of the colon is to act as a symbol that indicates an explanation, expansion on a prior subject, or continuation of thought. Reciprocally, the Armenian colon (.) is the

English symbol for the period. The period symbol indicates the end to a sentence or thought. I found the use of the Armenian period symbol fitting in this piece because of its polysemous function between two languages I grew up learning simultaneously. Even though my parents’ response of no was an end of a discussion, for me, no was a continuation in thought and a hunger for upcoming explanation.

American conceptual artist, Barbara Kruger, creates photographic and collaged artwork to address issues of identity, sexuality, and power. She uses phrases in the work, such as “Shame It Blame It” and “Don’t be a Jerk,” because of their “ability to determine who we are and who we aren't” (Wolf). By adding a specific phrase or word to the artwork, the artist directly confronts the viewer with her thoughts through words and imagery. In the work no., the Armenian word for no, ոչ (vohch), is written in gold foil

17 atop an ornate Armenian textile which has been dipped into resin. Having the word “no” be written in lower case is commentary on sensitizing the word to one side of an argument, as compared to a command if it had been written in capitalized letters. The use of gold emphasizes the amount of power that one word can have. The synthetic resin, being a fairly new material, juxtaposed with the traditional pattern of the textile, comments on old and new traditions coming together to form a rigid, unyielding middle ground. It is the tension of the in-between I am interested in. What better way to disrupt that tension than with the word “no”?

Body Consciousness

There are many women’s rights issues in the Armenian community I would like to address, but these issues inhabit all parts of the world. I am interested in the tensions found within the Western world and how certain American values influence and contradict values from around the world, including Armenia. Through ideas of fashion, cosmetology, plastic surgery, and body positivity, I seek to address issues of idealized beauty standards, how they are helping us, and how they are harming us.

Do You Still Love Me? (Image 6) is a work delving into the tension between body positivity and body shaming. It not only aims to appreciate the effort women put into looking the best they can, but comments on the shaming of women for never being perfect enough. In a world where women are encouraged and pressured to look perfect at all times, it is only expected to hear women say they do not feel they are good enough.

When I was in junior-high, family constantly compared me to one of my aunts who is struggling with obesity. They told me that if I do not watch my weight, I would end up just like her. As I got older, I often heard snickering comments on my fashion choices and was told it is a shame I do not wear makeup. It seemed that no matter my weight or beauty regimen, someone always had something to say. Instead of encouraging my decisions on making simple changes in my life to be healthy, they told me to go on strict diets and “stop eating.”

A woman who may not look or be physically overweight can try and try to lose weight and still not be slender enough according to impossible beauty standards of today.

During the 1920s, American women “abandoned tight-fitting, corseted evening dresses in favour of the straighter, looser style” seen in Paris (Black, 73). Since then, dresses have

19 become straighter and shorter, encouraging a slender, boyish figure, making it rare to find plus-size models in fashion campaigns up until recent years. With most designers appealing to this specific body type, women are driven to extremes to fit that mold.

Because extreme weight loss results are not instantaneous with diet and exercise alone, it may be hard to stay positive when physical change is not seen immediately. This makes it difficult for women to stay positive and feel comfortable in their own skin.

One of the more well knows pieces of the Pattern and Decoration Movement was a work by Joyce Kozloff called “An Interior Decorated.” This installation, exhibited between 1979 and 1981, consisted of thousands of star-shaped and hexagonal-shaped, glazed ceramic tiles, puzzled together to create a tiled floor. The walls were draped with silkscreened and lithographed silks, laminated on rice paper. Having made and hand- painted each of these piece herself, Kozloff’s labor intensive process intended to demonstrate her respect for highly decorated, traditional patterns from cultures which she was drawing inspiration from (“1978-1980”).

Do You Still Love Me? is a mixed-media ceramic sculpture, where I utilize the use of multiple soft slabs attached together to create fluid folds. Although the object has puckered lips covered in glossy lipstick, its belly-like roundness brings into question those of body consciousness and fears of being overweight. The decorative folds are imbedded with textures of fabric and painted with geometric patterns, commenting on the fashion industry’s involvement in standardizing physical beauty. The single strand of synthetic hair extensions is spread over the glossy, puckered lips, highlighting the imperfections in the misuse of products meant to make us look our best. The puckered

20 lips looking up at the viewer is confident, yet with a sluggish body being dragged along.

This symbolizes the struggles between staying positive and carrying our insecurities.

Vagina Dentata is as a folkloric image of a vagina with teeth. This motif is associated with male fear of sexual intercourse in fear of being castrated. In patriarchal societies, it is used in folklore to explain how men must break the teeth inside women’s vaginas, justifying why women are suppressed by men. It is also associated with female circumcision, or female genital mutilation, a procedure which removes all pleasure sensory from a woman’s genitals. It is another form of justification of female suppression, reducing a woman’s bodily function to simply a child bearer.

In recent years, genital cosmetic surgery has become popularized. Women are getting labia-reductions, with its purpose being “…to change the size and shape of the labia.” The excuse for this cosmetic surgery is to prevent the labia from “causing discomfort during activities such as cycling or walking, or during sexual intercourse” as well as the “appearance (making) you feel unhappy or self-conscious” (Berer, 107).

While some women choose to undergo this “invasive physical practice… with the intention of modifying their bodies,” some women do not have a choice of avoiding similar and worse procedure (Lirola, 488). UNICEF reports include 30 countries which still practice female genital mutilation, with little progress and slow decline in the practice (“Female Genital Mutilation”). I find it ironic how practices of the physical abuse toward women in developing and third-world countries have become a fetishization in the Western world, with cosmetic industries targeting women’s psychological insecurities.

Fatal Fetish (Image 7) is a ceramic wall sculpture, talking about this tension of abuse and fetishization. Hung at low height, at the height at which genitals usually are located, the work imitates partially mutilated female genitalia. The bead hung at the center of the piece represents genital piercings and aesthetic choices individuals make, while the single labia form represents the mutilation of the body part. The low height is not only meant to mirror the physical position of a vagina, but by placing the object at a lower height, the viewer is forced to move downward to get a closer look, invading the space to speculate the intricacies of the object.

Jason Briggs is a ceramic artist working in mixed media. His works tackle issues of sexuality, abstracting the body with sensual folds and luxurious surface treatments, further decorated with hair, rubber, and luster. He refers to hair as “both commonplace and distasteful” (Briggs). In this way, hair is used to make commentary on the normalcy of all humans having hair, yet the learnt attitude that hair is undesirable and unsettling. In my work, the hair atop the form references pubic hair. It is groomed into a stylized braid, commenting on the role of hair, or lack thereof, as a sexual preference, and the western world’s growing attention to pubic hair grooming.

Awareness Within Community

I sometimes find it hard to believe how often the word feminism is used without inquiry regarding its definition. My mother, who is a seamstress in the American film industry, had heard the word various times in conversation, both in English and

Armenian, and not once had she inquired about its definition until I asked her for hers.

The overuse of the word “feminism/feminist” seems to have desensitized society about the importance of issues surrounding women’s rights. My current definition of feminism is a simple one: when a woman is equally capable of doing anything a man can do and is valued as an equal.

Armenian artist Nancy Agabian presents performance art that revolves around issues of religion, otherness, and homosexuality within Armenia. Her public displays foster conversation about ways women can find themselves without fear of isolation.

Lara Aharonian, an Armenian-Canadian rights activist, states that "Before we can have solidarity with others, we have to exist in our own right” (Agabian, 417). This growing conversation within Armenia and its diasporas are cultivating a new and progressive way of thinking in a minority community.

Acknowledging that feminism in traditional Armenian homes is the first step in addressing issues of inequality within Armenian communities. Armenian women in the past have tried to voice their opinions, only to be shut down. Their form of feminism was to provide a neutral space for the generation they were raising by “…managing family matters, soothing screaming children, dealing with moody teenagers, and forever sacrificing (their) time in favor of everyone else’s” (Chktnesian, 30). By providing their children with the freedom to make their own choices, instead of forcing them to abide to

23 a certain set of rules they were posed with, their form of feminism was making sure both their sons and daughters had equal opportunity in their home lives as well as social and professional endeavors. New generations are more vocal about their views on equality and women’s rights, and social platforms are some of their strongest allies for social awareness.

Conclusion

It is difficult to break from the comfort of tradition, but when immigrant communities start to, they may find reward in reconciling progressive values with those from their past. Subjects revolving around women’s rights, and on a more personal level, the way women are valued within Armenian communities, are the primary subject that I have consistently been passionate about throughout my life. Through the exploration of these subjects, my art practice has become a stepping stone for my role as an art activist within the Armenian-American community. With the first-generation child to immigrant parent gap quickly closing in, these ideas of equality and social justice are allowing young minds to reach their full potential. Constant efforts and documentation of the steps that lead to social progress are vital in order to reconcile the way children feel growing up in a world influenced by multiple cultures.

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Appendix: Images

1. For Sale, Clay, fabric, tulle, 5” x 27” x 14”, 2017

2. What make Red apple the Best kind of apples?, Clay, glaze, acrylic paint, resin, 9.5” x 20” x 11”, 2017

3. Bad Wife’s Oven Mitts, Ink, fabric, Dimension variable, 2017

4. I’ll Pass on that Nose Job, Clay, spray paint, fabric, 23 karat gold leaf, 40” x 12” x 7”, 2017

5. no., Fabric, resin, gold leaf, 31” x 16” x 3”, 2018

6. Do You Still Love Me?, Clay, glaze, hair, 8” x 16” x 24”, 2018

7. Fatal Fetish, Clay, glaze, wire, hair, 24” x 5” x 2”, 2018