Menstrual blood, abjection and resistance in art6 Images
Since the 70s, the intersection of art and activism has sparked a growing interest in addressing topics once considered taboo. Menstrual blood, and other bodily fluids, have since emerged as a potent symbol of cultural resistance. The fear associated with bodily fluids, described by psychoanalyst Julia Kristeva in Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection (1980), is ultimately entwined with the psychic confrontation of self and other. Kristeva calls this fear “abjection,” defined as a state of profound repulsion and existential dread towards anything that destabilises the fragile borders between the internal and external. Bodily fluids – though not inherently impure – become abject by virtue of their transgression of cultural and social boundaries.
In recent decades, artists have transformed discomfort around the abject into radical political statements, gaining momentum alongside second-wave feminism. Menstruation, once confined to private and stigmatised spaces, was reclaimed through visual art, performance and video, emerging as a symbol of resistance. Artworks exploring the taboo of menstruation include Judy Chicago’s “Red Flag” (1971), Mako Idemitsu’s “What a Woman Made” (1973), Ana Mendieta’s “Untitled (Blood Sign)” (1974), Catherine Elwes’ three-day performance entitled Menstruation 2 (1979), Carolee Schneemann’s “Blood Work Diary” (1971) and “Interior Scroll” (1975) as well as Kiki Smith’s “Train” (1993) – a wax sculpture of a woman trailing red beads which, according to art historian Linda Nochlin, revealed the unsettling nature of bodily functions. Works like these challenged traditional views of the body as a static, clean entity, presenting it as fluid and uncontainable: crucial to destabilising biases surrounding the body.
Kiki Smith, “Train” (1993)Courtesy of the artist
Even Tracey Emin’s renowned “My Bed” (1998), a work featuring the artist’s living space, reveals bloodied underwear, amidst cigarette buts and jaundiced sheets: solidifying the idea that to exist is both literally and metaphorically to spill over, refusing containment. As anthropologist Mary Douglas notes, the body’s boundaries are regulated to contain, and when these margins are violated, they are deemed “dangerous”. This means that the abject is about boundary anxiety, the threat of disorder when the “pure” is violated by the “impure”. The transgression of these socially enforced “margins” becomes a political act, reifying one’s own bodily autonomy, the grittiness of one’s own corporeal reality, and the corrosive bounds of our society.
To exist is, both literally and metaphorically, to spill over, refusing containment – Isabella Greenwood
In more recent years, artists have continued to embrace menstruation and abjection. The Getty Center recently exhibited a show exploring how artists used blood, from Medieval times to the present day, showcasing century-old manuscripts alongside contemporary works by Nan Goldin, Ana Mendieta and Catherine Opie. The curator notes: “The inclusion of real blood heighten[ed] emotional response, as viewers had such immediate and visceral reactions to the idea of blood being literally present.”
Artist Yapci Ramos spent two years collecting her menstrual blood and used it to write words on the white-tiled walls of her bathroom, documenting the process on video. Her work, Red-Hot (2018), reflects menstruation as an internal cleansing process: “I wanted to reconnect to my blood. It is intuitive. It was visceral. I did it without thinking”. When the work was finished, Ramos cleaned it off the wall – an act that is also captured by the camera. “When you get your period, your body is cleaning itself,” she said. Reflecting menstruation as an internal process that spills over into external realms, Ramos notes the smell of blood that would linger in her bathroom after the performances.
Yapci Ramos,“Red Hot” (2018)Courtesy of the artist
Other contemporary artists challenging the fear of bodily fluids include Alexandra Rubinstein, who paints with her own menstrual blood. Rubinstein’s “Manses” (2021) features paintings of men titled with puns confronting stereotypes surrounding periods such as ‘manxiety’ ‘manchanted’ and ‘manguish’ inspired by her ex-boyfriends’ repulsion to her own monthly bleed. Rubinstein remarks the decisive importance of taking up space, positioning her own menstrual blood as an extension of her phenomenological expansiveness. While addressing the myriad sociopolitical issues that surround menstruation, Rubinstein also critically brings the viewer into direct contact with her own body, or otherwise repudiated fluids: conjuring terror, as well as the opportunity for deep reflection.
Bloody Mary, 2023
Alexandra Rubinstein, “Bloody Mary” (2023), Menstrual blood on canvas on board
73.6 x 61 cm
29 x 24 inCourtesy of the artist
The concept of abjection extends beyond bodily fluids, encompassing the marginalisation and social exclusion of racial and sexual minorities deemed as transgressing the “social body”. Wangechi Mutu’s medical-esque collages of Black female hybrid figures embellish abject materials like hair and fur, addressing the Black female body as a site of both reverence and subjugation. Mutu notes: “The Black female body has been violated and revered in very specific ways by the outsider.” For the artist, resistance is not only an act of reclamation, but also an act of reconstruction. As she reimagines the Black body through collage and subversive materials, Mutu, and artists alike, expose the discomfort elicited by transgressing both physical and socially constructed racial boundaries, situating this tension within a broader post-colonial critique.
Wangechi Mutu, “Histology of the Different Classes of Uterine Tumors” (2004 – 2005)© Wangechi Mutu
Menstruation and other bodily fluids are exiled from their own domain, existing in a strange realm of secrets we keep from ourselves and others, which ultimately mutates into shame. In the essay, If Men Could Menstruate, social activist Gloria Steinman notes: “if [cis] men experienced menstruation, it would be a source of pride rather than shame”. The shame associated with menstruation, or other signifiers of being a real and fleshy body, are not inherent but socially learned and reinstated.
Though heterogeneous, bodies are united by their shared aliveness – their ability to leak or spill out in myriad ways. Yet, this very spilling continues to evoke feelings of terror and violence
The decisive element that renders these artworks evocative is not necessarily their subject matter, but what they evoke in the viewer. The relentless fluidity of our bodies, masked by an impervious outer shape, sustained with layers of clothing, societal norms and a desire to hide, is critically questioned by these artworks. Though heterogeneous, bodies are united by their shared aliveness – their ability to leak or spill out in myriad ways. Yet this very spilling continues to evoke feelings of terror and violence. It appears that nothing is more embarrassing, horrifying and alluring than the movements, textures and sounds that reveal our bodies’ corporeal reality and, perhaps, vulnerability.
In bearing witness to abjection, we become more aware of our bodies, and though this is an uncomfortable experience, it also has the potential to be transformative. By bringing abject functionalities into public view, artists subvert the long-standing cultural belief that bodily processes are something to be hidden, embracing the anatomical reality of flesh despite its liquified complexity, and ultimately offer us the opportunity to do the same.
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