Bad Woman

…She’s lingering, slithering, seething, inside a deep dumpster behind my eyelids, mind, body…... She’s older. Kicking. Here. Now, numerous. Her mask. Multiples. 3D reprinted. Plastic facelift. I have traveled the country. Passed through identical suburban streets, long distant homogenous stretches of fields, roads, hopes and grey cities. My curiosity, driving this circus wagon behind me, dusty, patched up, loosing hair, teeth, and dignity somewhere along the way.

Her universal glare, hollow eyes, shut mouth. Legendary, aloof, ready to bite and scratch. Bad Woman, an idea, a concept, a mirage. Little of me and all the world against the patriarchy. Inner turmoil, rage, wrapped up in the suffocating blanket of subconsciousness. Who will support, reject, turn away in horror and disgust or applaud with glee? Who will march alongside her, hold her hand, push, pull, carry, care?

The word legacy keeps appearing now. Perhaps that is the reality of being an artist: at some point, you vanish, and what will remain of you and your work? Does it matter? I am always circling the subject of death. Bad Woman will live on inside the ever-lurking misogyny, kept hovering by centuries of trauma. Fueling the slow burning fire.

Burn me too.

I am grumpy and greying. And yet… awake, tossed, sizzling and grilled in the juices of disbelief. Under the roofs of academia, mediocrity wins. But what does art want? The sun is awake and so is The Bad Woman. She has my back, my front, my sides too. And yours. Oh non-present reader, I am a fighting, losing champion, striking the air and stumbling over myself. Remnants of dreams remain, stronger, taller. I grew taller recently… Now, there are so many things I can no longer digest, for I am a vessel of a Bad Woman.

I cannot tolerate disrespect, insult, underestimation, violation.
I cannot swallow ignorance, stupidity, idiocy.

There is no rush. We have eternity, don’t, we, Bad Woman. You are ...Baba Yaga, Mala Mujer, the one and only…..eternally hated old woman who consumes the young …. What an honor….

“Kill her,” patriarchy chants. “Burn her.”

So she waits, by that eternal fire pit. Heavy coats dragging across the floor, gathering debris. Conjuring …..roaming…..spells brewing…….

“What now?” she asks, with her nonexistent mouth, attempting a smirk. Motionless, she turns her large, cumbersome head toward me.

“Here we go! Your turn!”

Bad Woman, 2024, 3D printed masks, fake fur, wall paint, performance, 1 hr. Ekard AIR, Bucknell University, PA. Performers: Katya Grokhovsky, Kelsey Werkheiser, Sierra Fancher. Photos Jeffrey Burrell.