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A lot
of my work has explored the role of women--African American
women in particular--and their role in the economic survival of families. On a personal level, I have a
deep sense of belonging to that group by the mundane tasks I do. When I was thinking about this print
for the Women of the West Museum, it occurred to me that most of the famous black women in the West began
as laundresses or cooks. They were self-made survivors who became property owners, who achieved success
by starting from the bottom. Often, they used their money to help others. Ultimately they are heroic.
They made their menial, unrewarding work meaningful, maybe not for themselves but for others. Housekeepers
and nannies have a huge impact on people's lives and they are rarely recognized. Often they're invisible;
you don't even notice them. That's why in this print of a laundress you see her from behind, with her
face reflected in the tub of water.
--Alison Saar
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Issues
of female-centered spirituality are especially resonant in
Alison Saar's artwork, layered in African American metaphysics and folk tales, and shaped by her
multicultural heritage (African American, American Indian, and German) and the collage aesthetic of
her mother (artist Betye Saar). Washtub Blues salvages the forgotten history of the West's women of color,
women whose menial labor as housekeepers and cooks often allowed others to succeed. Yet Saar's print,
like the wood and metal sculptures she makes, also evokes the female body as a spirit vessel, communicating
key messages about spiritual purpose and possessing corporeal connections to dreams and divination. Her
face mirrored in the indigo waters of the washtub she carries, Saar's laundress conjures both the physical
presence of African American women in the West, and their fundamental importance as spiritual resources
and guides.
--Erika Doss
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