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Elizabeth A.Sackler Center for Feminist Art

Grimanesa Amorós

New York,
United States

Grimanesa Amorós is an interdisciplinary artist whose interests in the fields of social history, scientific research, and critical theory have greatly influenced her work. She often uses sculpture, video, lighting and sound to create works that illuminate our notions of personal identity and community. Amoros utilizes her art as an agent for empowerment to involve viewers from all different backgrounds and communities.

Born in Lima, Peru, she currently lives and works in Peru and New York City. Amoros studied at The Art Students League (1984-1988) and Private Ateliers in Lima, Peru (1981-1983). Amorós has received many fellowships and awards, including: National Endowment for the Arts Visual Artist Fellowship (Washington, DC); The Travel Grant Fund for Artists, NEA Arts International, (NYC); the Bronx Museum for the Arts: Aim Program (Bronx, NY); the Louis Comfort Tiffany Foundation’s Participant Biennial Competition (NYC); the X Tumi USA Award (Miami, FL); and artist residency fellowships from Art Omi (Columbia County, NY), Santa Fe Art Institute (Santa Fe, NM), the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (Amherst, VA), Artspace (Raleigh, NC), and Centrum Arts (Port Townsend, WA). Her works were selected for the Art in Embassies Program of the U.S. Departments of State in Ankara, Turkey (2001) and Lima, Peru (2003). Amorós has exhibited in the United States, Europe and Latin America. Her most recent solo exhibitions and public work include: Terraforms (Miami, FL); Terrarium (NYC); Varna Festival of Visual Arts, 5th edition (Bulgaria); the Hostos Center for the Arts & Culture (NYC); the Lee Building (NYC); Hudson River Healthcare Center (Peekskill, NY); Artspace (Raleigh, NC); BUZZER 30 (NYC); ARTCO Gallery, (Lima, Peru); R&F Gallery (NYC); and Egizio’s Project (NYC). Her most recent group exhibitions include: the Museum of the Americas (Washington, DC); the Lab Gallery (NYC); Athens Institute for Contemporary Art (Athens, GA); SITE Santa Fe, Monothon 16 (Santa Fe, NM); Free Manifesta Biennial (Frankfurt, Germany); Liberarti Arts Festival (Liverpool, UK), and Progetto Anglioletta Firpo (Alessandria, Italy). She has participated in many art festivals and fairs, such as the LOOP Fair in Barcelona, Spain. She has given many artist lectures, most recently at Pratt Institude (Brooklyn, NY); ArtSpace (Raleigh, NC); Sweet Briar College (Sweet Briar, VA); Corriente Alterna School of Arts (Lima, Peru); Colgate University (Hamilton, NY); and Spruill Center for the Arts (Atlanta GA).

Feminist Artist Statement

The stereotype of feminist artists as socially abnormal or marginal individuals still holds sway in our society. Feminists, however, like works of art, come in many forms and have varying life experiences. Families and spouses, for instance, are not necessarily incongruous with the guiding tenants of feminism. Rather, the tenacity of the image of the archetypal, bra-burning feminist is disparaging to the true diversity among women, and is as reductive as the view of the demur feminine ideal from which we were “liberated” in the last few decades.

<p>You Cannot Feel it… I Wish That You Could</p>

You Cannot Feel it… I Wish That You Could

This work explores the interplay between biology and society. I pose two questions: To what degree are gender-specific roles biologically determined? And what happens to those roles as both society and biology evolve?

The ideas arose in a very personal context; during my pregnancy, and afterwards when I was nursing our daughter, I noticed how curious my husband was about my experiences. More than once he pressed Shammiel against his own nipple to see if she would suckle. I wanted to create a piece around motherhood, and the unbridgeable gulf between the male and female bodies, specifically in the area of reproduction. Then I began to imagine ways in which that gulf might be bridged.

Central to this work is the concept of male pregnancy. Given recent startling developments in our understanding of genetics and medicine, we may soon see a future in which women and men will both have the opportunity to carry a pregnancy. This shift would have not only enormous biological ramifications, but would also motivate a reexamination, if not total upheaval, of deep-rooted social conventions. In “You Cannot Feel It…,” I fantasize what such a world might be like.

Viewers move through the installation along a spiral path, guided by hanging transparent fabric. Within the space, people encounter “clones” of a new kind of human body: Eleven handmade paper sculptures of a pregnant female torso onto which are spliced eleven identical male heads. These sculptures were cast from a mold of my body, taken the week before I gave birth to Shammiel, now ten years ago. The floor beneath and around the sculptures is covered with soft, pale sand, evoking the idea of the earth as a foundation for biological manipulation. As they walk, viewers are able to feel the texture underfoot.

I had the opportunity to collaborate with lighting designer Steve Dubay and composer Meshell Ndegeocello, who created a piece of music specifically for the installation. The lighting and the music will reinforce the magical quality that many of us feel when confronted with the wonder and fantasy of science.

You Cannot Feel it… I Wish That You Could

This work explores the interplay between biology and society. I pose two questions: To what degree are gender-specific roles biologically determined? And what happens to those roles as both society and biology evolve?

The ideas arose in a very personal context; during my pregnancy, and afterwards when I was nursing our daughter, I noticed how curious my husband was about my experiences. More than once he pressed Shammiel against his own nipple to see if she would suckle. I wanted to create a piece around motherhood, and the unbridgeable gulf between the male and female bodies, specifically in the area of reproduction. Then I began to imagine ways in which that gulf might be bridged.

Central to this work is the concept of male pregnancy. Given recent startling developments in our understanding of genetics and medicine, we may soon see a future in which women and men will both have the opportunity to carry a pregnancy. This shift would have not only enormous biological ramifications, but would also motivate a reexamination, if not total upheaval, of deep-rooted social conventions. In “You Cannot Feel It…,” I fantasize what such a world might be like.

Viewers move through the installation along a spiral path, guided by hanging transparent fabric. Within the space, people encounter “clones” of a new kind of human body: Eleven handmade paper sculptures of a pregnant female torso onto which are spliced eleven identical male heads. These sculptures were cast from a mold of my body, taken the week before I gave birth to Shammiel, now ten years ago. The floor beneath and around the sculptures is covered with soft, pale sand, evoking the idea of the earth as a foundation for biological manipulation. As they walk, viewers are able to feel the texture underfoot.

I had the opportunity to collaborate with lighting designer Steve Dubay and composer Meshell Ndegeocello, who created a piece of music specifically for the installation. The lighting and the music will reinforce the magical quality that many of us feel when confronted with the wonder and fantasy of science.

You Cannot Feel it… I Wish That You Could

This work explores the interplay between biology and society. I pose two questions: To what degree are gender-specific roles biologically determined? And what happens to those roles as both society and biology evolve?

The ideas arose in a very personal context; during my pregnancy, and afterwards when I was nursing our daughter, I noticed how curious my husband was about my experiences. More than once he pressed Shammiel against his own nipple to see if she would suckle. I wanted to create a piece around motherhood, and the unbridgeable gulf between the male and female bodies, specifically in the area of reproduction. Then I began to imagine ways in which that gulf might be bridged.

Central to this work is the concept of male pregnancy. Given recent startling developments in our understanding of genetics and medicine, we may soon see a future in which women and men will both have the opportunity to carry a pregnancy. This shift would have not only enormous biological ramifications, but would also motivate a reexamination, if not total upheaval, of deep-rooted social conventions. In “You Cannot Feel It…,” I fantasize what such a world might be like.

Viewers move through the installation along a spiral path, guided by hanging transparent fabric. Within the space, people encounter “clones” of a new kind of human body: Eleven handmade paper sculptures of a pregnant female torso onto which are spliced eleven identical male heads. These sculptures were cast from a mold of my body, taken the week before I gave birth to Shammiel, now ten years ago. The floor beneath and around the sculptures is covered with soft, pale sand, evoking the idea of the earth as a foundation for biological manipulation. As they walk, viewers are able to feel the texture underfoot.

I had the opportunity to collaborate with lighting designer Steve Dubay and composer Meshell Ndegeocello, who created a piece of music specifically for the installation. The lighting and the music will reinforce the magical quality that many of us feel when confronted with the wonder and fantasy of science.

You Cannot Feel it… I Wish That You Could

This work explores the interplay between biology and society. I pose two questions: To what degree are gender-specific roles biologically determined? And what happens to those roles as both society and biology evolve?

The ideas arose in a very personal context; during my pregnancy, and afterwards when I was nursing our daughter, I noticed how curious my husband was about my experiences. More than once he pressed Shammiel against his own nipple to see if she would suckle. I wanted to create a piece around motherhood, and the unbridgeable gulf between the male and female bodies, specifically in the area of reproduction. Then I began to imagine ways in which that gulf might be bridged.

Central to this work is the concept of male pregnancy. Given recent startling developments in our understanding of genetics and medicine, we may soon see a future in which women and men will both have the opportunity to carry a pregnancy. This shift would have not only enormous biological ramifications, but would also motivate a reexamination, if not total upheaval, of deep-rooted social conventions. In “You Cannot Feel It…,” I fantasize what such a world might be like.

Viewers move through the installation along a spiral path, guided by hanging transparent fabric. Within the space, people encounter “clones” of a new kind of human body: Eleven handmade paper sculptures of a pregnant female torso onto which are spliced eleven identical male heads. These sculptures were cast from a mold of my body, taken the week before I gave birth to Shammiel, now ten years ago. The floor beneath and around the sculptures is covered with soft, pale sand, evoking the idea of the earth as a foundation for biological manipulation. As they walk, viewers are able to feel the texture underfoot.

I had the opportunity to collaborate with lighting designer Steve Dubay and composer Meshell Ndegeocello, who created a piece of music specifically for the installation. The lighting and the music will reinforce the magical quality that many of us feel when confronted with the wonder and fantasy of science.

You Cannot Feel it… I Wish That You Could

This work explores the interplay between biology and society. I pose two questions: To what degree are gender-specific roles biologically determined? And what happens to those roles as both society and biology evolve?

The ideas arose in a very personal context; during my pregnancy, and afterwards when I was nursing our daughter, I noticed how curious my husband was about my experiences. More than once he pressed Shammiel against his own nipple to see if she would suckle. I wanted to create a piece around motherhood, and the unbridgeable gulf between the male and female bodies, specifically in the area of reproduction. Then I began to imagine ways in which that gulf might be bridged.

Central to this work is the concept of male pregnancy. Given recent startling developments in our understanding of genetics and medicine, we may soon see a future in which women and men will both have the opportunity to carry a pregnancy. This shift would have not only enormous biological ramifications, but would also motivate a reexamination, if not total upheaval, of deep-rooted social conventions. In “You Cannot Feel It…,” I fantasize what such a world might be like.

Viewers move through the installation along a spiral path, guided by hanging transparent fabric. Within the space, people encounter “clones” of a new kind of human body: Eleven handmade paper sculptures of a pregnant female torso onto which are spliced eleven identical male heads. These sculptures were cast from a mold of my body, taken the week before I gave birth to Shammiel, now ten years ago. The floor beneath and around the sculptures is covered with soft, pale sand, evoking the idea of the earth as a foundation for biological manipulation. As they walk, viewers are able to feel the texture underfoot.

I had the opportunity to collaborate with lighting designer Steve Dubay and composer Meshell Ndegeocello, who created a piece of music specifically for the installation. The lighting and the music will reinforce the magical quality that many of us feel when confronted with the wonder and fantasy of science.

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117 Hudson St., 4th Floor
New York,
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