On how one day, I suddenly realized that I can not live without feminism.

I joined the ranks of feminism almost at the same time my professional life as an artist began. I was brought up among male siblings in an enlightened family where I was not discriminated against as a woman and while during my adolescence I had heard about the women's liberation movement which was catching on like fire internationally, it seemed personally irrelevant.

Then one day, in the early seventies, during a seminar at art school at the National School of Art (alias "San Carlos") where I was studying, a fellow student gave a lecture on women artists and I started seeing things differently. To my surprise, at the end of her presentation most of the (male) students agreed that women could never be as good artists as them, because of our biology. According to them, motherhood sucked up our creativity. Apart from the astonishment I felt that they accepted this highly unscientific concept, particularly as they were artists and intellectuals, thus supposedly progressive, that discussion made me understand that as an artist I would have to face misogynist attitudes and that it was up to me to try to do something about it. I understood that even if my work was good, the fact that I was a woman would affect the way in which it was received negatively. For the first time I was saddened by the enormous artistic potential humanity had wasted as a result of these stupid prejudices.

Another experience opened my eyes some more. It was the seventies. The generation of "The Groups", with its political art and its interest in emerging genres such as performance and installation was in full blast. Everyone was a leftist and we still felt the scars of the 1968 student massacre in Tlatelolco in Mexico City. Neither the internet nor the AIDS epidemic were around yet. We had closed San Carlos down as part of a large student movement seeking to improve educational standards. As I walked into the women's bathroom, I read an enormous sign that read "Women, make love, support the guys in their struggle." With one phrase they had managed to erase our participation in the movement, not mention our efforts as young liberated women to control our sexuality. The guys seemed to believe our life should be limited to keeping their beds warm and their paintbrushes clean.

Jumping straight into feminism, or how I tried in vain to form a feminist art group.
In 1975, the Womens International Year took place in Mexico City and the Museum of Modern Art organized the exhibition La Mujer Como Creadora Y Tema Del Arte (Woman as Creator and Topic of Art). Ironically, most of the participants were men. Twenty years later, it seems unbelievable that they were unable to find enough women artists to organize a splendid exhibit or that they could not see how contradictory it was to organize a show for a major international feminist event where women were fundamentally the object of art, at best a muse. At least in this aspect, things have changed. At present, at least half the population of artists under forty are women and feminist art theory has filtered down improving the visibility of women artists as well as the understanding of their specific situation. Today, it is not necessary for us to fight for an exhibition that shows the work of women artists. On the contrary, there are so many, that we are struggling to limit them to those with specific academic or curatorial motives behind them.

Parallel to this 1975 exhibition, the MAM dedicated an issue of its magazine "Artes Visuales" (1) to women and art. It included an interview with Judy Chicago, the pioneer of the feminist art in United States. In it I found out that there was a feminist art school in Los Angeles. I contacted them and took a two week workshop, after which I decided that this was exactly what I needed for my postgraduate studies. Victor Lerma (my husband and partner) and I started saving money in order to go to California.

During the two years it took us to get there, I joined the feminist movement in Mexico. I felt it was important to begin to understand the politics behind the movement before arriving at the Woman´s Building. I began participating in the group Movimiento Feminista Mexicano (MFM) with Mireya Toto, Sylvia Pandolfi, Lourdes Arizpe and other women because they produced a publication called Cihuat: Voz De La Coalición De Mujeres (Cihuat: The Voice of the Woman's Coalition) and I felt that in that group I could integrate my political concerns and the artistic ones. The burning topics at the time were rape and abortion. Lesbianism seemed to scare everyone, so it was hardly mentioned. In those days, the Coalition was integrated by the Movimiento Nacional de Mujeres and the MFM. Shortly after, we were joined by groups such as La Revuelta, Movimiento de Liberación de la Mujer and Colectivo de Mujeres. We moved from Yucatán Street to an apartment at Rio Ebro Street where marathon sessions, violent discussions, radical attitudes, painful recriminations were the norm, all of which were as dense as the cigarette smoke that characterized them. A wonderful memory I have from those days is the demonstration we held in front of the Senators Building in December of 1977 demanding the liberalization of the abortion. The whole movement, all thirty of us, was present. Since my mother was concerned about my safety (the police could get kind of rough at the time), she decided to accompany me. She was so exited about the movement that she later joined the Movimiento Nacional de Mujeres. My father, who had also gone with us in order to look after my mother, stood on the sidewalk across the street. And Victor, who was documenting the demonstration, also cheered along.

One of the most important events for me during this period was the Primer Simposio Mexicano Centroamericano de Investigación sobre la Mujer (First Symposium of Mexican Central American Studies on Women). The Museo de Arte Carrillo Gil presented a parallel women artists exhibition (2). Alaíde Foppa, Sylvia Pandolfi and Raquel Tibol curated this exhibition and I helped as an assistant. More than eighty painters, sculptresses, weavers, photographers and ceramists participated in this important exhibition. After years of history of art classes where hardly any women artists were mentioned (and they were invariably dead or had suffered tragic lives), it was a real surprise to meet so many colleagues.

Later on I joined a film collective run by Rosa Marta Fernández because it was the closest to my own field. This was a very intense learning period for me because I participated in the research for Rompiendo el Silencio (Breaking the Silence), a film on rape. I will never forget the doctor we interviewed at a police station who told us he believed that women always provoke rape, even though he had just received the case of a senior citizen who had been raped and her husband murdered. Undoubtedly, this was my period as a furious feminist: that first moment when one becomes aware of the havocs caused by sexism, when all the myths that one has swallowed start crumbling and one's anger is so intense that we tend to lose our sense of humor or believe that men are the enemy. Fortunately, for me this period, although intense, was brief. Several film makers participated in Rosa Marta's group, among them: Laura Rosetti, Ana Victoria Jiménez, Lilian Liberman and Beatríz Mira.

During that time, despite my unsuccessful attempts to form a collective of women artists, we were at least able to organize several exhibitions. The first one in which we identified ourselves as feminist artists was Collage Íntimo (Intimate Collage). It took place in 1977 at the Casa del Lago. Rosalba Huerta, Lucila Santiago and I participated in it. My work in that moment referred to sexuality (the topic that I certainly was most interested in) and it was full of phalluses and vaginas. Although today these works may even seem funny, at the time they managed to scandalize a lot of people. The following year we organized the Exposición Colectiva de Arte Feminista (Collective Feminist Show) at the Galería Contraste: Anyone who considered herself a feminist was invited to participate, even if the work itself was not feminist. Lo Norma (On Normality), another exhibition, was presented at a youth center in a working class neighborhood and it included work with a strong feminist content, even though not all the artists identified themselves as feminist. It seems as though we were trying to define what "feminist art" might mean.

Something that was particularly difficult during that time was that, although artists were trying to open up the debate on feminist art, art critics like Alaíde Foppa, who was an outstanding feminist militant and political activist, thought gender had nothing to do with art. And to this date, although the main theoretical debates of the art in United States and Europe invariably recognize the constant contributions from the feminist theory to the art, few Mexican critics even seem to be aware of it.

The Woman's Building in Los Angeles and the bridges with Mexico
In 1978, I finally joined the Feminist Studio Workshop at the Woman's Building in Los Angeles. The educational process in this singular institution was very special. It was based on the small group format which was used by the whole feminist movement to raise consciousness and group dynamics to develop creativity. We also studied and researched the lives of women artists in the past. Accustomed to a traditional education, I was very surprised to be in classes where my personal experience was valued.

Besides the two-year course I was taking, I also worked with Suzanne Lacy and Leslie Labowitz in their group Ariadne: Social Art Network. Their art work integrated art and politics. One of them was Making it Safe whose goal was to reduce the level of violence against women in Ocean Park, a local community. We organized exhibitions, round tables, performances, public speak outs, personal defense workshops and other events that raised the publics consciousness. Something I learned at the time was that if one seeks to make a revolutionary art in political terms, it first has to be revolutionary in artistic terms. We made specific pieces for feminist demonstrations (to which, much to my surprise, over 5,000 women would attend) and for the mass media. They were works which are hard to define and in the best tradition of conceptual art, went beyond all the limits of what had previously been accepted as "art."

In 1980, I obtained my mistress of feminist art degree at the Womans Building and my masters degree in sociology of the art from Goddard College. The title of my thesis was Feminist Art: an Effective Political Tool and for my final project I organized a conceptual work of art called Translations: an international dialogue of women artists. The idea of the project was to come to Mexico with several of my fellow-students from the Woman´s Building to give a series of conferences and workshops about feminist art. They took place at the Carrillo Gil Museum, at the house of Nancy Cárdenas (the outstanding feminist and lesbian theater director) in Cuernavaca and in Oaxaca. The project in Mexico was coordinated by a group which included Ana Victoria Jiménez, Yolanda Andrade, Magali Lara, Yan Castro, Lilia Lucido (my mom) and other women. Once here, we also gathered information to take back to the U.S. where we gave a series of lectures on Mexican women artists. The documentation of this project was presented in the exhibition Künstlerinnen Aus Mexico in Berlin, a show organized by Magali Lara and Emma Cecilia García. This exhibition started at the Goethe Institute and it traveled to several European countries.

One of the Mexican works we documented that impressed me the most was a mother's day performance/demonstration designed by several artists and Mexican feminists who were protesting against the death of women in clandestine abortions. In this event, a large contingent of feminists dressed in black marched to the Monument of the Mother where they deposited a floral wreath adorned with the medical instruments, herbs and pills used for abortions.

I also remember the participation of a group of Mexican artists in a piece by Suzanne Lacy in San Francisco. This work was presented at Judy Chicago's famous The Dinner Party. Lacy presented a parallel piece called The International Dinner Party in which she coordinated women all over the world who organized dinner parties to honor one or several important women in their own communities. In Mexico Adelina Zendejas (a journalist), Amalia Castillo Ledón (writer and politician) and Concha Michel (a political activist) were honored. Lacy had a large world map at the museum in San Francisco with small red flags marking every city which had sent a telegram reporting a dinner party.

Returning home and finally getting those feminist art groups going.
In the early eighties, after a five-month lecture tour through several European countries, Victor and I returned to Mexico. My mother had died a few months earlier and Adán, our first child, was born. After I settled down and started getting used to motherhood, I decided to begin teaching. So one day I barged into the office of José of Santiago, director of postgraduate studies at San Carlos, and I told him I wanted to teach a course on feminist art. Much to my surprise, he immediately accepted. My students and I started investigating the situation of women artists in Mexico through interviews and readings. We studied different theoretical aspects of the feminist art and practiced the creativity the techniques that I learned in the U.S. In 1984, after a year of working together, we formed a feminist art collective called Tlacuilas y Retrateras. The group included Ana Victoria Jiménez, Karen Cordero, Patricia Torres, Elizabeth Valenzuela, Lorena Loaiza, Ruth Albores, Nicola, Marcela Ramírez and I.

Our first project was around the traditional party that fifteen year-old girls (quinceañeras) enjoy (or not). This party is still a highly ingrained rite of passage in our society. Our research led to an event called La Fiesta de Quince Años. It took place in August, 1984, at San Carlos. The replica of the sculpture of the Victory of Samothrace received the audience all frilled up and pink as a typical quinceañera in a misty atmosphere at the school's entrance. That afternoon there was a torrential rain storm and since the roof of San Carlos' patio was being fixed, we had to begin the event amid a chaos that we never overcame: we were only expecting around 300 people and more than 2,000 people arrived. As a result, we could not even cross the corridors to manage the few lights that we were allowed to use for fear we be electrocuted by the wet cables. The ceremony, based on a script written by the group, was conducted by María Eugenia Pulido and Armando de León. It began, as it should, with the traditional waltz.

The maids of honor were artists who had designed their own dresses: one brought a chastity belt and another dressed in a crinoline with hands printed all over. As part of the project we asked diverse members of the community to be our godparents, just as there are for the real fifteen year old parties. Art critic Raquel Tibol, for example, was book godmother; Sanborn's (the restaurant) donated an enormous cake in the shape of Cinderellas slipper; musician Eric Zeolla composed the Sopa Inglesa waltz specially for the occasion and artist José Luis Cuevas was the father of the birthday girl, although unfortunately he arrived late and the crowd prevented us from noticing his presence.

Besides the party, there were several performances, an exhibition including the work of nearly 30 women artists and Nahum B. Zenil. We invited him as the token man so that they wouldn't accuse us of being sexist. Fanny Rabel, Yolanda Andrade, Magali Lara and Leticia Ocharán (the late artist who wrote extensively on women artists in Mexico) were among the participants. Apart from turning the spotlights onto this popular and highly significant puberty ritual, this exhibition was important because it opened up the door to all sorts of artistic proposals based on kitsch aesthetics, which are so trendy at present. We also had poetry readings by Patricia Vega and Magali Tercero and the presentation of Carmen Boullosas play Para Cocinar Hombres (Cooking Men). Among the performances that were presented that night was Nacida entre Mujeres (Born among Women) of the feminist art collective Bio-arte, which included Nunik Sauret, Roselle Faure, Rose Van Lengen, Guadalupe García and Laita. Their group proposal was to carry out works that had to do with the woman's biological cycles and that evening they modeled some beautiful plastic quinceañera dresses. Robin Luccini, Eloy Tarcicio and María Guerra also participated in a controversial performance where they dressed up in meat. On the other hand, Patricia Torres and Elizabeth Valenzuela performed a piece called Mirror-mirror (Espejito-espejito), which was very intimate and unfortunately was lost in the chaos of the large crowd gathered. The performance came to an abrupt end when art critic Raquel Tibol's (like a nasty quinceañera's mother) started banging the floor with her umbrella and hurrying them up.

Polvo de Gallina Negra (Black Hen's Dust), a feminist art group to which I will refer to in detail later, made a performance for the event with Rubén Valencia and Víctor Lerma called Las Ilusiones y Las Perversiones (Illusions And Perversions). While Victor and I kissed passionately in front of an enormous crocheted heart, Maris Bustamente wore a dress with a female sex on the outside which Rubén tore, leaving a trail of blood. Then he grabbed a syringe of semen and started squirting the public. At the closing event of La Fiesta de Quince Años we also performed Tres Recetas del Grupo Polvo de Gallina Negra (Three Recipes of the Polvo de Gallina Negra Group) in which we analyzed the event of Tlacuilas and Retrateras and acted out several group dynamics on how to accept criticism without chickening out.

The criticism we received, by the way, was vicious. At a distance it is easy to see that, although we had many technical flaws, the critics and the journalists who wrote about our work did not have a clue of what we were doing. They dismissed us because we were not good actresses and they were clearly unaware of terms such as performance or live art. Under these circumstances, we could hardly expect them to understand. The group disintegrated soon after: we were exhausted after the event, paralyzed by the reviews and my course at San Carlos had ended.

Around that same time, the Museum of Fine Arts of Toluca asked me to curate an exhibition of women artists. In 1984, Mujeres Artistas/Artistas Mujeres brought together almost a hundred participants, including painters, sculptresses, photographers and performance artists. Although the curatorial concept behind this exhibition was not very different from the one at the Museo Carrillo Gil a few years earlier, personally it was an important learning experience because it allowed me to meet some very strong women artists such as Elena Villaseñor, Herlinda Sánchez Laurel, Susana Campos, Carla Rippey, Noemí Ramírez, Fanny Rabel and Leticia Ocharán. During this time Nilda Peraza, a Puerto Rican curator living in New York came to Mexico to put together an exhibition of women artists sponsored by Avon. New Roads: Mexican Painters was presented in Washington and New York, and concluded its tour at the Foro de Arte Contemporáneo in México City.

The strongest period of feminist art in Mexico was in the beginning of the eighties, so much so, that the feminist art magazine FEM (3) dedicated an issue to women artists. For me, it was a very important moment because I have always been concerned about the lack of communication between militant or academic feminism and feminist artists. I believe that one of the big weaknesses of the Mexican feminist art has been that we have been unable to find our natural public among feminists. Either we have not been able to respond to their needs or they have not understood that we are not only interested in politics. Our main concern is art.

Towards the end of 1983, several artists began to meet with the purpose of starting a group. We had already participated in a series of collaborations, like the collective installation at the Festival de Oposición (Opposition Festival) in December 1982, where Magali Lara, Rowena Morales, Maris Bustamante, Adriana Slemenson and I made bed installations about women's traditional sexual roles. At the beginning of 1983, Magali, Silvia Orozco, Carmen Boullosa and I produced a series of videos for Rowena Morales's exhibition Cartas a esa monja (Letters to that Nun) at the Museo Carrillo Gil. When the time came to form a feminist art group, most of them refused. Some argued that it was a too radical, others worried they would lose their boyfriends and a few were concerned that collective work was a thing of the past. In the end Maris Bustamante, Herminia Dosal and I formed a group. Herminia soon realized she did not share our aesthetic ideas, so Maris and I were left as the only members of Polvo de Gallina Negra (PGN).

The objectives of PGN were: 1) to analyze the woman's image in art and in the media 2) to study and to promote the participation of women in art and 3) to create images based on our experience as woman in a patriarchal system, with a feminist perspective and with the goal of transforming the visual world in order to alter reality. This made it easy for us to select the name of the group: we believed that if in this world it is difficult to be an artist, all the more so to be woman artist and it is almost impossible to be a feminist artist, so we selected the name Polvo de Gallina Negra which is a remedy against the evil eye. Our name itself was a protection. Our first event was the performance El Respeto Al Derecho Al Cuerpo Ajeno Es La Paz and it took place during the demonstration against violence against women on October 7, 1983, at the Juárez Monument. In our performance we prepared a potion to cause rapists the evil eye. We read a recipe with ingredients such as: 10 hairs of a strong feminist, a sprinkle of supportive legislators, and other elements we believed would be effective in order to fight against rape. Later on we distributed envelopes of our special potion. The recipe, which is humorous and critical, was published in several magazines and feminist calendars and has even appeared once or twice on television.

In 1984, we participated with the performance Mujeres Artistas o se Solicita Esposa (Women Artists or, Wife Wanted) at the Biblioteca Mexico and in La Fiesta De Quince Años, which I have already mentioned. However, our great event that year was a tour of 30 lectures at different educational institutions in the State of Mexico with a performance/lecture also called Mujeres Artistas o Se Solicita Esposa. After talking briefly about sexist images in art, we would mention some of the most important women artists through history, including those in Mexico and then focused on younger artists. However, our goal was not to promote our colleagues, but to speak of feminist issues based on their images. Thus, Lourdes Grobet's photographs of women wrestlers allowed us to speak about battered women; Magali Laras childhood journals allowed us to refer to the education of girls; the work of Maris let us talk about eroticism; my own work to refer to rape; and that of Ana Victoria Jiménez to deal with domestic work. I should mention that at the time I was six months pregnant, and Maris was in her third month. We underlined our condition by wearing special aprons that made our tummies even larger. Our performance usually ended up in a heated debate.

PGN's most ambitious project, ¡MADRES! (MOTHERS!), took place in 1987. Although today it could be classified as process art, we coined the term Visual Project to define this type of work we were doing, which aimed at integrating politics, eliminating traditional definitions of art and creating pieces which were carried out over several months. We thought of MADRES! as a way of integrating life and art, particularly at a time when motherhood was the most important part of our experience. Thus, we presented ourselves as the only group that had gotten pregnant as part of an art project. Naturally, we had had the support of our husbands. As artists themselves, Rubén and Víctor understood our intentions perfectly. Obviously, as feminists, we gave birth to daughters and, to prove our scientific accuracy, Yuruen and Andrea were born three months apart in 1985, the year of the earthquake.

¡MADRES! had several sub-projects. In the first place it was an art mail project where we sent several pieces to the artistic community and the press on different aspects of motherhood which ranged from our own relationships with our mothers, to an imaginary event in the future in which our descendants finally destroy the archetype of the MOTHER. We also organized Cartas a mi Madre (Letter To My Mother), which was a competition where the audience was invited to write a letter with everything they every wanted to tell their mothers but had not dared. We received 70 answers from all over the country and there was an award ceremony in which we gave a work of art to the winner and we raffled another work amongst all the participants. Another event was a poetry reading where several poets, among them Carmen Boullosa and Perla Schwartz, read their poems on motherhood.

As part of MADRES!, Maris and I carried out a series of performances at the Museo Carrillo Gil, the Esmeralda art school, etc.. The last one, where Maris sawed a plastic tummy off me, was at the Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana. It took place the day before her second daughter was born. As of that moment, we became a totally endogamous group. Only our children or grandchildren are entitled to become members of Polvo De Gallina Negra!

Besides these performances, we made a couple of them specifically for the media. One of them took place at the prime time news program Nuestro Mundo with anchorman Guillermo Ochoa. Dressed with our pregnant looking aprons and a ventriloquist's doll that had an eye patch like Catalina Creel's, the infamous mother in a very famous soap opera running in those days, we dressed Ochoa up as a pregnant woman and named him Mother for one Day. Ochoa really got into his role. He swallowed the pills we gave him to make him feel morning sickness and proudly wore his crown as queen of the home. The public immediately responded: the men were deeply offended but it fascinated many women. Nine months later, a member of the public called Ochoa to ask if he had had a girl or boy.

The project MADRES! / MOTHERS! concluded with my exhibition Novela Rosa O Me Agarro El Arquetipo (Romance or how I was Trapped by the Archetype) at the Carrillo Gil Museum. Later on we participated sporadically in diverse conferences and a few performances. In 1993, after 10 years, we decided to bring the cycle to a close.

The Feminist Art in the Nineties
I don't know if it was exhaustion, but towards the end of the eighties I was ready to work alone.

Unlike feminist art groups in the US and Europe who were able to link the work of people in the theoretical and the practical fields (historians, critics, and artists etc.), in Mexico this did not happen. Thus, in 1988 when I had the opportunity to collaborate in El Universal, one of the major newspapers in the country, I decided to write about the issues I love: women artists and performance art.

The most important thing about writing for me is that, little by little, I have gathered a collection of articles on Mexican artists that shows changes over the past 20 years. The most notorious one is that at present there is a great number of excellent young artists (in their late twenties and early thirties) such as Mónica Castillo, Sofía Taboas, Sylvia Gruner, Flor Minor, Betsabee Romero, Claudia Fernández, Yolanda Paulsen, Laura Anderson, Patricia Soriano, Isabel Leñero, Rosario García Crespo and Elvira Santamaría. Their work, even if they do not necessarily accept it, has been thoroughly influenced, directly or indirectly by feminist art. There are also other excellent artists whose concerns have nothing to do with women's issues such as Estrella Carmona, Doris Steinbichler or Lorena Orozco.

One of the factors that has allowed the emergence of this strong generation, is that for a couple of decades, at least 50% of students at the art schools have been women. Another one is that they have had the support of the National Fund for Culture and Arts (Fondo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes) which started in the early nineties. Both in the grant system and in the Encuentro Nacionl de Arte Joven (National Competition for Young Artists) women artists do as well or better than young male artists. However, in collective exhibitions in general, as well as solo shows, the presence of women artists continues being weaker and nine out of ten art reviews are about male artists.

There have been some favorable changes and many young women artists (except those with young children) no longer consider sexism as a relevant professional issue. But I am not as optimistic. There are hardly any books on women artists and even fewer of them with a feminist perspective. At the different women's studies centers at various universities, art is basically ignored. We don't have a day care center for artist's children, or a women artists' organization working to improve our professional conditions. On the other hand, after 20 years of women artists exhibitions, instead of improving, have gotten worse. In the late nineties the UNAM, our most important national university, organized an exhibition of 100 artists whose exclusive curatorial criteria was the artist's gender, disregarding political or artistic tendencies, ages, media and even the quality of the work. Today, organizing an exhibition of "women" artists is as ridiculous as organizing an exhibition of "Mexican" artists in Mexico that would include the work of outstanding artists such as Francisco Toledo, students and amateur painters.

A couple of women artist groups emerged in the second half of the nineties. Linea Abierta included artists like Cecilia Sánchez Duarte, Erika Bulle and Tania de Léon. They organized exhibitions with the purpose of promoting themselves professionally. They didn't necessarily share aesthetic or political ideas. Before having a child and leaving the city, Cecilia also organized several exhibitions inviting Mexican and Chicana artists. Another group was Coyolxauhqui Articulada. Among others, Lilia Valencia, Emma Sosa and Yan Castro participate in it. I must say I was amused when, in 1996, I found out they presented themselves as the first feminist art group in Mexico. I must admit, however, that they are the first lesbian feminist art group I know of in Mexico.

I would like to stress that, for me, the hardest feminist struggle has been the one I fight every day against my own upbringing. Although I have read thousands of pages on feminism, participated in tons of demonstrations, worked in groups, organized exhibitions and written hundreds of articles, I find I still struggle not to put my chores at home before my artwork. Changing these behavior patterns so that my kids grow up with a different experience, or so that my own expectations as a woman and an artist are different, is harder than changing laws. It's hard to balance all these contradictions. This is why, when I think of how ambitious the feminist project is (or the hundreds of feminist projects are), when I realize we are trying to change the essence of society.... I know patience is essential.

Notes
1. ARTES VISUALES. Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes. 1976, Num. 9 Catalog: EXHIBITION
2. PINTORAS/ESCULTORAS/GRABADORAS/FOTOGRAFAS/TEJEDORAS/CERAMISTAS Museo of Arte Alvar and Carmen T. de Carrillo Gil. November of 1977. Presentation text by Alaíde Foppa.
3. LA MUJER EN EL ARTE. FEM. VOL IX NO.33 April-May 1984.
(Text translated by Katy Depwell)