Rafael Lozano-Hemmer, “Surface Tension”, 1992.
Shown here: Detectores, Fundación Telefónica, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2012
I need feminism because most men’s restrooms still aren’t equipped with baby changing stations. As someone who was married to a man who had sole custody of his young son, I’m hyperaware that feminism means EQUALITY, not female superiority. Feminism should and does support a man’s right to be as much of a parent to his child(ren) as any mother is allowed/expected to be.
This is a constant problem for Mr. Tea and myself. We’ve got twins, so even though I can change one kid on the change table in the ladies’ room, he’s left standing sort of awkwardly in the lobby with a messy child while I change one, come back, and get the other.
Nobody’s suggesting that men aren’t parents, so the lack of change tables goes well beyond ‘gender role reinforcing’ and straight into ‘ridiculous’.
My dad actually almost got kicked out of a mall once for changing my brother in the womens room of a mall. The only reason they didn’t call the cops on him was because the ladies in the room supported him.
I’d never even considered this but I support it
I support this
honestly don’t remember where, sorry
sister #2 & #5, 2010
kelly surdo, dying angels
this was a writing piece i made on the floor of the computer lab at school during after hours. i had been adamantly emotionally unavailable for a dangerous amount of time. it was a moment when something had cracked inside my chest and i felt something warm inside of myself for the first time in forever. i was beginning to let others in again in a way that wasn’t explicitly destructive. i jotted the phrase down as an iphone note, packed my things and walked quickly back to my apartment. the print itself i made at parsons, ronika was allowing us to make prints of some of our work in hopes that a physical form of these pieces that lived solely on the internet would protect me from my demons at bay, at least that was the idea. i think it worked because i still carry them. the piece of silk was the only present i received for my birthday this year, a gift from a good friend who said the texture felt important and reminded them of me. it’s all that mattered. together they make something much greater than me.
"show me, show me, show me how you do that trick,
the one that makes me scream,” she said
"the one that makes me laugh," she said
threw her arms around my neck
show me how you do it
and i promise you, i promise that
i’ll run away with you
i’ll run away with you
Vincent van Gogh’s room in the psychiatric hospital in Saint-Paul-de Mausole in Saint-Remy
This is super upsetting