Looking at the overlooked
By Becca Costello
Photo By Larry Dalton
When I arrived at M. Parfitt's house, the first thing she did
was unroll the poop quilt. The piece, titled Wilbur's Opinion after
a cherished pet, is composed of hundreds of photos of dog droppings. She
explained that she documented her dog's backyard visits for a year to get
the pictures and that no two are alike. She chose only the most interesting
shapes and even fed Wilbur corn and carrots to influence his "artistic
process." Once I got over my initial "I can't believe I'm studying
poop" reaction, I started to appreciate the astonishing variety of
shapes and textures, which is exactly the point. Parfitt's art, created
with hair, blood, forgotten photos, lint and other typically discarded objects,
invites the observer to take another look at things that almost never get
a second glance. It's an approach that won her the $1,000 first prize at
the 73rd Crocker-Kingsley exhibition last month at the Crocker Art Museum.
Were you surprised you won first prize?
I was totally shocked. I wasn't even sure my piece was in the show. First,
there's a round of judging by slides. Then, they tell you to bring your
piece in for the second round, so I did, and they said, "If we don't
accept it, we'll let you know." I never heard from them. I assumed
it got in, but I didn't really know. I thought maybe I'd missed a phone
call. So, we went to the reception, and they handed us the catalogs, which
we didn't even open. If we'd opened them, we'd have seen a picture of the
piece right inside. We wandered back, and there was my piece. I said, "Oh,
there it is! It actually made it in." Then, I noticed the sign that
said first prize, and I just dropped everything. I couldn't believe it.
I never thought I would win, especially with Gladys Nilsson being the juror.
I've admired her work for years. She's an excellent painter and a very interesting
artist. For her to pick my piece just shocked the hell out of me.
What was the winning piece?
I collect old photographs and books. I took about 70 old photographs
of women, and I found little bits of text to put under each one. I tore
the pages and smeared blood all over them, so a lot of it's blocked out
and other words are emphasized. You can't get a complete story out of each
piece of text, but you can get an idea by reading a couple of words. Each
piece of text was about constrictive behavior--how you're supposed to dress,
how to wear your corset, how to do your housecleaning, how to behave for
your husband, how to behave in public. It's all about behavior women were
supposed to fall in line with. I combined the two and added rows of lint
vertically, throughout the piece. I like working with lint because it's
something people throw away. They don't notice it, but it's really interesting
material, the colors and the textures. It ties in with how these women were
treated. They were sort of ignored and invisible, unless they followed these
behaviors. Their lives were insignificant, just like the lint. But, if you
look at the lint, it's really interesting, so maybe these women had interesting
lives, too. So, I sewed all that up as a quilt.
Victoria Dalkey, who reviewed the Crocker-Kingsley exhibition for
the Sacramento Bee, criticized the use of text in art. Why do you use text
in your work?
I think it adds another dimension. You can read as much as you want.
You can look past the blood and try to figure out what the words are. You
can glance at it and read a few words or just look at it visually, as part
of the composition. I like to hint at ideas from books, throw in ideas that
might not be apparent if it was just photos and color.
What's the most unusual thing you've used in your art?
I used to save my dog's nail clippings. I used them in a house sculpture.
They kind of formed a path and looked like pebbles.
You use a lot of blood.
I started using it maybe seven years ago. I wanted to make a quilt that
looked like it was stained with blood. I tried acrylic paint, silk paint
and watercolors. Nothing looked like blood. It looked like paint. Finally,
one day I had my period, and I thought, "Well, why not try blood?"
and it worked. I like the way it looks. You get thick clots and little runny
bits and chunks. It changes color when it oxidizes. It's fun to work with
because you really can't control it.
Do people assume you're going for "shock value" in your
art because of the blood?
Some people don't even know what they're looking at. Other people don't
know it's menstrual blood, and they assume I cut myself to do it. It doesn't
have any real deep significance for me other than the fact that I like the
color and the texture.
What inspires you?
I like looking at things that people throw away or overlook. I pick things
up from the gutter on my way to work--scraps of paper and stuff. I've always
liked ... the idea of recycling things and making them useful again.
What is the role of the artist today?
Art, to me, is fun. I don't believe in suffering for it. Artists who
are tortured should be a in a different business, obviously. I make what's
fun to me, and I hope people like looking at it. I like to see people laugh
at my work. That's my role as an artist, to have fun.
copyright 2002 Sacramento News and Review |