The justifiable reaction to Ken Johnson’s review of Michelle Grabner currently lighting up social networks is an interesting contrast to Margaret Harrison’s didactic outrage on paper over actual glaring societal problems. The Johnson fiasco unfolds in real-time, a parody of New York male critic explaining a woman’s as fit only for parody, as if to prove transgressive the assertion of the domestic, giving talking points to the pundits sprung into the web of interaction; whereas the already-explained nature of Harrison’s texts beget little interest, at least on my feeds, both pointing to the glaring rift that feminism has for a while now been seeking to fill.
The less overt drawings are the more interesting in their subtle freudian fingering of advertorial tropes, of women pinned up to lemons, or in sandwiches portrayed as literal meat, mere garnish to tasty consumption.