Untitled 404 

(After a Cindy Sherman Photograph)  

Recently someone scolded me for speaking about Cindy Sherman because 
+++Cindy Sherman was an instrument of the patriarchy 
Like an evil saxophone, that only plays hold music for a bank
Bad financial jazz pouring out of the telephone 

O sometimes I get so tired I want to blow the stars out, one by one 
Every year people demand to know what art is feminist and what art is 
+++un-feminist 
Sometimes I wonder if it’s ethical to be a woman at all 
It’s a great stupidity to waste your life on right-seeming behaviour 
Like putting a coin in a jukebox that only plays whale song 

I like this picture because it reminds me of loneliness 
And the great, unspecific boredom of life 
It’s the expression I get every time someone tries to hold me accountable 
+++for my artistic wrongdoings 
The critical theorists advancing, with black leather pompoms 

Once there was a time in which I had many ideologies 
Many self-pleasing ideologies with which to chastise others 
The theme of these ideologies was: however wrong you are, that is the exact 
+++amount I am right by 
I felt them in my blood like too much money 

Once upon a time, I had many ideologies 
Many superior ideologies, with which to cheerfully educate 
+++my family and friends 
Forget crying myself to sleep, I wanted to cry everyone else there 
Then drive off in my Cadillac, my black wig blowing 

Once upon a time I had many ideologies 
And by ideologies I mean specific ideas about things other people should and 
+++shouldn’t do 
But proving yourself right is a bad career 
Then you have to prove yourself even righter, in a blue satin pantsuit 

Sometimes the world is so backwards all you can do is stare 
Stare and stare, from out behind your waterproof mascara 
Oh it’s a great responsibility to be your own misogynist 
There are so many beaded handbags with which to oppress yourself 

I don’t think the great project of art is ideological messaging time
Like Monet, spelling ‘fuck you’ in waterlilies 
All I want is to pour my eyes into the world 
The sunset blazing overhead like too much eyeshadow 

People are always on the lookout for new ideologies with which to punish 
+++themselves 
Contemporary ideologies, studded with hashtags 
It’s like not being able to wear a sexy nurse outfit unless you apply for a sexy 
+++medical licence 
You have to take someone’s blood pressure with your skirt hiked up 

There are a lot of punishments in this world 
And some of these punishments look a lot like day to day life 
Some things cannot be transformed, only endured 
The moon shining over all of us, with its clean white handrail 

The imperative to be correct is the great failure of the left
Sometimes you just want to wash iceberg lettuce in quiet despair
It’s like buying a second wig, and putting it on over the wig 
+++you’re already wearing 
You cry and cry, impressing no-one

  

By Hera Lindsay Bird

Check out other work in the Strange Faces Other Minds series here.