"Pretty much everyone in the art world should take the title of this show to heart. Sure the Guerilla Girls aren't donning their monkey masks and postering in protest of institutional sexual discrimination quite as often these days. But they probably should be. Look at the numbers of men versus women representing nations at the Venice Biennale. Look at auction prices. Look around. Concrete Utopia's show and publication are incredibly savvy in how they tackle the issue of "feminism" and "feminist art," terms likely to induce groans and memories of not really liking Judy Chicago's "The Dinner Party." "On the one hand, we contemplate anxiety surrounding feminism's legacy, the hypothetical realization of our forbears' goals, the danger of nullifying progress by inadequate engagement with the term," a press statement for the show reads. "On the other hand, we perceive disbelief from within our generation and without, over the relevance of whatever we could do. Through both these lenses, we hope to recognize, articulate, commiserate, and organize surrounding the paralysis of moving feminism forward." Thank goodness somebody is."
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