The feminist artist Judy Chicago hates men. Wandering through her angry and tumultuous show at the Serpentine Gallery, I felt like a trespassing schoolboy who was getting his face smacked. “This is for picking your nose!” Smack. ”This is for destroying the planet!” Smack. “This is for making God a man!” Smack. By the time I slunk out of this weird but impactful event, I was rubbing my cheek, gingerly.
I’m exaggerating. You have to with Chicago. Exaggeration is one of the weapons she employs in her unceasing attacks on the patriarchy. For 60 years — she was born in 1939 — Chicago has been making thunderous art driven by the certainty that men are bad and women are good. Not a millimetre of grey
