Alien Artwork in Newport Beach

As you walk through the door that sits next in a large white wall with the letters “ALIEN SHE” printed neatly in the middle, you are greeted by a den with a collage of colorful fliers and self-published magazines that jump off of their bulletin boards. The opposite side of the room has sculptures in front of the printed letters “A WAVE OF NEW RAGE THINKING.” Between them is a table that shelters various personal items; and a banner on an adjacent wall that asks “WHAT IS A RIOT GRRRL?”

The Alien She exhibit that began its stay at the Orange County Museum of Art (OCMA) on February 15th, is the first to set out to explore the lasting effect of the “punk feminist movement that emerged in the early 1990’s,” otherwise known as Riot Grrrl. The movement began “in reaction to pervasive and violent sexism, racism, and homophobia.” The exhibit chronicles various artists at work today whose work is not only influenced by, but in unison with the ideology of Riot Grrrl.

Upon entering, you are flushed over by the culture that inspired woman everywhere to emphasize “female and youth empowerment, collaborative organization, creative resistance and DIY ethics” just as the program notes.

The exhibit shelters the work of seven artists that provide everything from CD covers on a small ledge on the floor, to large sculptures that function as carefully orchestrated room installations- the work sets out to analyze the lasting effect of the punk feminist movement as well as to keep feministic issues prevalent.

After the sensory overload of show fliers and zines, advertising Riot Grrrl bands like Bikini Kill, Sleater Kinney, and Bratmobile, you are projected into the art of those involved in the culture. Across from the fliers, there is the work of artist Ginger Brooks Takahashi. As you walk to meet her sculptures, you pass by the large banner that serves as a detailed manifesto of the movement, and a table that you can sit at while listening to the music made by Riot Grrrl bands such as Bikini Kill, Huggy Bear and Le Tigre.

The far end of the narrow room hosts Takahashi’s sculptures; one that is tree branches that represent legs, protected by shoes, and the other is a pile of pillows thrown on top of each other, clothed in t-shirts. The latter is entitled Feminist Body Pillow. On the wall across from the banner, there is a map of North America made by Takahashi that depicts the regions that various bands hail from. Beside it, is a quote from the artist: “There is a group, if not an alliance, walking there too, whether or not they are seen.”

Moving through the opening between the back wall behind the Takahashi sculptures and the perpendicular wall with the banner, you find yourself within the work of a new artist. This time, Faythe Levine’s work is a back wall with a series of photographs that convey off-the-grid communities called Time Outside of Time, and a projection of a documentary examining Do-it-yourself ideals. The documentary shows various people that are enthralled with work on just about anything from arts and crafts to music booking.

The work of artist Stephanie Syjuco takes up of much of a large room. In the middle of it are recreated luxury purses made out of materials that make them look like intentionally cheaper than the brands they impersonate, they are elevated to eye level. Behind them is a large bulletin board with many bulletins that read “FREE TEXT.” Under the bold lettering is a title of a book and individual slips that have websites that you could tear off, but it is unclear whether or not the exhibit encourages you to do so.

On the ground of this room are around fifty covers of CDS that were obviously printed out by a home printer. The front row of CDS has a sticker in the left hand corner that reads $9.99. The sculpture consists of physical depictions from Syjuco’s digital music collection. The albums consist of a wide variety of genres. The artist’s description board reveals that you can actually buy them which implies that the collection may be a revolving door of digital recreations.

Passing through a narrow room where the artwork of Tammy Rae Carland rests, there is a series two series of photos; one portraying empty comedy stages with lonesome microphones entitled I’m Dying Up Here and a set of photos that show empty beds that look as if they were just slept in and vacated.

Finally, after passing through the hallway where Carland’s work is displayed, you make it to the largest room in the exhibition that utilizes the space to create a busy scene. The first thing that catches your eye is the extremely tall pink gate that is not without an array of pink barbed wire wrapped around the top. Behind it are three giant sculptures of monkeys and a mock classroom set up equipped with chairs and a projection that’s satirical audio bounces around the room.

At first the individual pieces seem to be interactive with one another, but upon closer examination, it becomes clear that it is merely clever curation. The gate naturally keeps the spectators out until they realize they are allowed to venture around the side to examine the individual works. The gate itself was made by L.J. Roberts, who also has banners displayed on the opposite side of the gate. The apes that appear to be dancing are accompanied by small pink animals that they seem to be caring for. They are the work of Alyson Mitchell, who is also credited for the wall behind the apes that is a drawing of books in a library, as well as the slide show projection with distorted audio that speaks loudly about homosexuality.

Like this room, that escorts you out of the exhibit, each individual work within the Alien She exhibit at OCMA functions not only on its own accord, but within the context of a culture that rejects bigotry, in favor of embracing comradery and social equality. In a world where a woman doesn’t make as much money over their life time as a man doing the same job, the Riot Grrrl movement inspires women everywhere to become artists and political activists. “This is a living history,” writes curators Astria Suparak and Ceci Moss, “not a sealed past.”