Glenna Stearman Park, The Egg and I

This is the only photo I can find  of my infamous art installation at the DWCo-op Gallery in Dallas.  The Dallas Morning News reported that I made obscene art and badmouthed me in a half page article.  I loved every minute of it!

The show was called “Rooms” and 6 of us were invited to make an installation.  They gave me the bathroom because I had won a prize at the Ft. Worth Art Museum for soap carvings of domestic tools (toaster, tea pot, iron, sewing machine, etc.)

I was told I could do anything I wanted (dangerous thing to say).  So, I had been reading my Bible in the most recognized Bible Belt.  I was thinking about Leviticus and the instructions to women about how to behave during their periods, and the burnt offerings they had to make to get forgiveness each month—which I made into a theater piece later.  I called my Dallas show “The Egg and I.”

Two illustrated manuscript paintings were in the hallway leading to the bathroom.  One was a watercolor of roses and the text from Leviticus 13, that stated the religious law.  The second was a painting of a dozen chicken eggs and the book Joy of Cooking with the Biblical instructions for burnt offerings.   

A couple of small sculptures of plaster figurines from a hobby shop were just outside the bathroom door.  One was called “Venus on the Half Shell,” a nude female on an open diaphragm and compact.  The other was a standing female figure with a tampon hanging in her prayerful hands.  That was named “Oh, Dear God.”

Then, the bathroom was completely covered in tampons, Kotex, StayFree Maxi pads, nursing pads and cotton balls.  I placed 12 red polished eggs in little nest-like locations.  The room had a delicate fragrance from the commercial products. 

At the opening night Joel and I climbed the stairs to the second story gallery.  We heard screaming and laughing, and I paused a bit—not sure I was ready for a bunch of drunk artists.  Joel pushed me on, and I was totally stunned to realize that my room was the source of the uproar.  Women were laughing so hard some had tears in their eyes.  Some of their husbands were very subdued, but others were laughing their heads off.  I relaxed and enjoyed watching the reactions. 

The following week the gallery experienced a surge in attendance, and some of the people brought the newspaper review and specifically asked to see the bathroom.  

Shortly after that show came down, we moved to San Antonio.  My “reputation” preceded me, and I had immediate access to the art scene.

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