I was trying to clear off my desk today, and in the process came across photos of four of my Sheela-na-gig pieces. These are part of a series of about 15 folk art fabric images I've made of the famed naked bald crone with an oversized vulva. The entire series was shown at the late--and much lamented--Change Makers for Women in Oakland, California. Other than that, I've taken them to a few Pagan events, but have otherwise never shown them to the wider world.
These four images are ones I made early in the series, and of course they reflect the level of skill I had at that time. The later Sheelas are somewhat different, and one of these days I'll pull them out and shoot them with my digital camera so I can post the images here.
I came to Sheela fairly early in my Pagan life. I began to tire of Goddess images that all looked like something you'd see in a superheroes comic book: long-legged long-haired big-breasted beauties in scanty clothing. They just didn't comport with my notion of the all-powerful immanent Creatrix. So I decided to make some images of my own. I will warn you in advance that these Sheelas are fruits of both my Pagan spirituality and my very powerful feminist political orientation. For that reason, depending on your cultural and religious orientation, you may find them offensive. Don't say I didn't warn you in advance.
Sheela caught my eye immediately, because I instinctively understood the significance of her huge genitals and the effort with which she is manifesting them. James Jerman argues in Images of Lust that these figures were carved on churches as warnings against concupiscence, but I see them as images of the great Mother Goddess, reminding us of the sacredness of the doorway though which we all enter the world. And the fact that the vulvas of most of the carved stone Sheela-na-gigs of Ireland and England are polished and worn down from human touch tells me that on some level, we all see this sacred portal as something powerful and magical.
I had planned to make just one Sheela and then go on to other goddess images, but new ideas kept popping up. One of the Sheelas I made was inspired by stories I had read about various women's groups from the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints (Mormons) preparing to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the handcart pioneers. These were poorly-outfitted Mormons who lacked the money for wagons and horses to make the journey to Utah. Instead they pushed handcarts across inhospitable terrain, and many lost their lives in fierce weather they encountered along the way. They were desperate to get to Salt Lake City to join up with their brethren in what is certainly known as one of the most patriarchal religious groups in the world. The anniversary year, many Mormons donned pioneer dress and re-enacted at least part of their ancestors' journeys.
As historian D. Michael Quinn once told me in an interview, the very qualities of independence, self-reliance, and force of personality that enabled pioneer women to make this difficult journey, and that present-day Mormons loved to honor in their ancestors, are the same things that get some of today's Mormon women excommunicated. So in my piece, I have two female re-enacters in sunbonnets--the ONLY time I've ever done anything that even remotely resembles the cliched Sunbonnet Sue quilt image--hanging a quilt for an outdoor quilt show. They are obedient women of the kind praised by Rulon Jeffs from the break-away Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints who insisted that his church members "stay sweet" and conform to all his demands. In my piece, Sheela manifests herself to these two little women. And all of a sudden, the dry and barren Utah landscape around Sheela breaks out into lush greenery. Sheela shows us the rich possibilities and full life we can have when we question the patriarchy and honor our selves. And by the way, the "hole in the barn door" pattern is used for the little quilt. 
I was inspired to make this next Sheela after seeing an ad on television for Feminine Deodorant Spray, a product that's a solution in need of a problem. The idea that women need to spray some sort of floral deodorant on their yonis because the smell of their parts might offend seems so wrong-headed to me, promoting women's hatred and shame toward their own bodies. It's personally offensive to me that the manufacturer of this product is telling women that their bodies need this sort of corrective. And besides, it can't be good to be spraying scented chemicals on our yonis. So the name of this piece is "Sheela-na-gig Tells the Girls They're Perfectly Fine `Down There.' " Sheela is surrounded by a school of beautiful and luscious salmon.
This next Sheela-na-gig has its origins in the year my family moved to Cocoa Beach, Florida so my Boeing engineer father could work on the Minuteman missile, and later, in the space program. The first day we drove past Patrick Air Force Base, which coordinated operations at Cape Canaveral, we saw this long row of various dummy missiles standing at attention. I think that row is still there today, probably with some additional missiles.
Back then I probably didn't know the literal meaning of the phrase "phallic symbol," but I recognized that this row of missiles represented some kind of fierce and fearful power. And I remembered seeing parts of Georges Méliès' 1902 French science-fiction animated film, La Voyage dans la Lune, in which a rocket ship pierces the eye of the man on the moon.
I'd also learned the story of Polynesian Goddess Hina, an artist who left a shiftless and annoying husband and walked up the rainbow bridge to the moon where She could have peace and quiet to make the sacred tapa cloth Her people needed for their rituals. So it made perfect sense for me to make a Sheela-on-the-Moon piece. In this piece, Sheela-na-gig has reclaimed the moon as a sacred and tranquil place without the patriarchy's forceful intrusions.
Sheela is quilted in relief on an oyster-colored silk moon. You will see by the trajectory that the rocket ship launched from the big blue marble that is planet earth will not be able to penetrate the moon because it's under Sheela's protection. Sheela floats in the night sky, reminding women of their cyclical ties to the waxing and waning of the moon, and she proclaims, with Virginia Woolf, that women artists are entitled to "a room of one's own." Sheela's moon is a patriarchy-free zone.
The last of the four Sheela-na-gig images I will post today is an homage to two remarkable women, anthropologist Margaret Mead and my fellow Norwegian-American, actress Norma Jean Mortenson, better known as Marilyn Monroe. Margaret Mead coined the term "post-menopausal zest," for that second wind women get as they move into their crone years. They/we realize we have nothing to lose, so we're likely to embark on any number of new adventures, filled with creativity and energy.
Now what does that have to do with Marilyn Monroe? I always thought she was misunderstood as a tragic sex bomb, and that, behind that innate Scandinavian diffidence, she was a terribly gifted comic actress. And I think she did her very best work in Some Like It Hot. I always remember the big Caribbean-style production number in which she sang "Tropical Heat Wave" in her breathy voice. She seemed to me to be the epitome of lush sensual feminity, with a comic self-awareness.
So this piece is called "Sheela-na-Gig Enjoys a Tropical Heat Wave." And yes, I did intend to make the connection to menopause's hot flashes. Sheela's a crone unfazed by tropical heat waves. She puts on her party hat and gets out there and boogies. Aging women in our society are often ignored and/or despised. But Sheela won't go away. She knows that she's entitled to take up space, and, what's more, to celebrate life on her own terms. One of the most fun things about this particular Sheela piece is it's made entirely from recycled fabric from garments I bought at the local flea market, and silk scraps from a necktie factory. So, on another level, this piece is an affirmation that you don't always have to use fancy $10-per-yard fabrics to make textile art. (And I must confess I stole the palm tree shapes from one of Paul Gauguin's paintings).
Oh, one more thing about Sheela herself. Women's intentional genital display is a subtext in many culture's mythologies. Baubo lifted her skirt and performed a ribald dance to bring laughter to the heartbroken Demeter. And Ama no Uzume climbed onto an overturned wooden tub, ripped open her kimono and did a bump and grind dance that lured the sulky sun goddess Amaterasu Omikami from her cave. In some African cultures, vulva display is known as "titi ikoli" and it's used to shame those who disrespect women. And somewhere in Irish mythology, there's a similar story about a company of fierce women who repelled an invader by disrobing and showing all. The Unmanageables, a coalition of Irish feminist activists, are still using this powerful image, as this poster for an upcoming event would indicate.
I keep thinking I'm through making Sheelas, and then another idea intrudes. So perhaps it's a series that will never end. In any case, Sheela-na-gig seems an apt symbol for women's power and women's lives.
quilt quilting art feminist+art feminism Sheela-na-gig yoni Pagan Paganism patriarchy patriarchal LDS Mormon Cape+Canaveral moon space+program Goddess mythology vulva display genitals sex sexual women fabric+art