The Whitworth - Women in Revolt! - Review

After touring London and Edinburgh since 2023, Women in Revolt! – curated by Lindsey Young - arrives in Manchester at the Whitworth. This is the first time the exhibition has been free of charge.    

Originally I had planned to visit Women in Revolt! with a friend, but the plans fell through, so here I am, camera in hand, back in the Whitworth. Living so close to the venue, I walk through Whitworth Park – it is a beautiful day – and take the back entrance into the gallery. I only mention this because one of the first things I encounter is a slice of text informing me that this is room 5 of 7, and that I should instead start from the entrance in the Special Collection’s Gallery. So, rather than interrupt the pre-determined flow, I track round and begin the exhibition again.

By indicating a correct path, the gallery signals that this is – counter to my expectations – a social history exhibition through the lens of artists and their artworks. And this is indeed the case. Women in Revolt! is very clear to signpost that it is arranged chronologically. One of the stated purposes is to “remind us there is no single experience of being a woman, an artist or an activist”. As such, instead of highlighting the work of some big names, there are over 90 artist displayed over the 7 rooms.

The first room serves as an introduction. Taking its starting point as the National Women’s Liberation Conference in 1970, there are historical records – photographs, zines – relating to this in a central rectangular cabinet. Text on the walls highlights a programme of talks, tours, and screenings to go alongside the exhibition, as well as a content guidance pamphlet – warnings of sensitive topics, and indicating the gallery staff as approachable in this regard. It is all good practice.

There are a lot of people here – mostly women or female presenting. While indicative of the arts, the demographics seem more woman-centric than the rest of the gallery. Yet it is not an exclusive environment – or unwelcoming. What it is, however, is busy. The exhibition opened yesterday, Friday, so the weekend turnout is sizeable.

Cutting over the murmur of gallery goers is the sound of screaming. A piece of film, screened in a loop, is projecting this scream over the entire gallery. Is it unsettling? It is definitely unavoidable – the sound follows you throughout the exhibition. Is it distracting? Not really. You sort of get used to it. But it is challenging. Especially when the attached film is only viewable in one of the rooms – leaving a disembodied scream as the dominant soundtrack to the space, mixed with half muffled VCR screens playing footage from the 70’s and 80s.

The historical push of the exhibition covers Women’s art and resistance between 1970-1990 – approximate, but not synonymous, with second wave feminism. The rooms are both chronological and thematic, and the artworks act to punctuate or reinforce the historical – pertinent – message. Not often is an artwork the focal point of the space – rather part of an assemblage used to explain and explore certain facets of womanhood and revolt during these decades.

The space is also trans-inclusive in quite a positively non-confrontational manner – accepting and including transness as fact rather than as a point for debate. Within the first room we see a bold self-portrait by Erica Rutherford. The language they use is pointedly factual – mentions of gender affirming surgery and acknowledgement of her as woman, not specifically trans-woman. Of course, conventions around terminology shift, but as a queer individual, this felt like a successful act of normalisation rather than a potentially incendiary platforming. I would be interested in the thoughts of others on this styling.

A common feature throughout the gallery were images of performance art – reiterating the difficulty in finding spaces and places for art in established institutions. One, in fact – by Penny Slinger – was deemed too radical and shut down by police when first performed. The theme of embodiment as a challenge to authority appears again and again and is captured well by this photo set.

Now, despite the chronology of the gallery – the visitor has the option to move to either room 2 or 6. Out of respect for the critical path, I move to room 2. The emergent themes here: Socialism and the body as a site of agency and oppression.

Gosh i need to get better at photography...

In the centre of the room are a set of Crocheted human-size figure by Rita McGurn – an uncanny domesticity. On the wall, Double Labia by Janis K. Jeffries (pictured above). An interesting observation in the label text explores textiles as a feminine medium due to its historical links to domestic labour.

A stand out piece hangs next to a panel explaining Socialism. In social history museum fashion, key terms are given definitions relating them to the overall subject. Here, we learn that “many women see capitalism as the root of their oppression”, which feels broad, but a useful assertation – I am far from the person to refute this. The panel also – quite rightfully – suggests that some anti-capitalism movements forget to consider gender, inevitably reproducing patriarchal structures in a supposedly liberatory movement. A series of photos embellishes this point, showing a woman’s hand polishing a large laudatory image of Marx, which labels him as “man, thinker, revolutionary”.

The scream comes from this room. It is Gina Birch – of the Raincoats – in a work named “3 minute scream”. It runs for 2 minutes and 50 seconds. A lovely little panel indicates that you can “ask a visitor team assistant if you would like earplugs”. I wonder how many people take them up on that offer. It seems almost sheepish. There is an interesting tension here between impact and accessibility. Muting the sound would undermine the scream, but disadvantage visitors with overstimulation issues. I think the possibility of earplugs is a nice compromise – however, it seemed to only be signalled on this one panel.

On to room 3 – which explores punk and alternative subcultures – their links with unfemininity, hypersexuality, and the broader theme of Women in Revolt!. A fun series of interventions into traditional media hangs on one of the walls. Included in this is Suzan Swale’s Hegemony (pictured above).     

It is around this point that I admit to myself that this might be to big an undertaking to confine the Exhibition to one post. If I were to fully engage with every presented artwork or even speak more in depth on the mechanisms and successes of each individual room, it would be a much bigger project. With this in mind, I thought it best to write a more sweeping, holistic, review, with the possibility of returning to individual rooms at a later date.

That aside, I move into a sub-gallery expanding on the Greenham Common protests – crucially their role in linking up networks of women.  This section acted very similar to the People’s History Museum in its use of protest banners to paint a picture of the movement. “Everyone went to Greenham – Greenham women are everywhere”. In this section stands a reconstruction of the Greenham Common fence, adorned with personal affects, behind which is a mirrored surface. The implications are clear – on putting up a mirror to the nuclear and military complex – but Margaret Harrison’s work is effective in its simplicity and scale. This entire section is brilliant. An exhibition within an exhibition deserving of close attention.

We move round into room 5 – which actually covers two rooms – exploring the intersection between gender and race. It draws from a wider pool than the predominantly white, liberal feminism of the UK and begins to lay the path towards later feminisms. One central work is ‘Housewives with Steak Knives’, by Sutapa Biswas – bringing together imagery of Kali and Judith and Holofernes. It is an attention-grabbing work and makes good use of the space provided. In fact, the Whitworth has done an admirable job of hanging such a high volume of work without overcrowding any section. The balance between social history and art is well maintained, allowing for in depth exploration of certain themes, while never relegating the art to mere re-iteration of the information in the text panels.

In hindsight, I should have spent more time in this room but – not expecting the sheer volume of work – I was beginning to lose focus and wished to at least have a little think in every space. So, on to the final room.

Here sit responses to the late 80s and 90s – a time of Thatcher’s proclamations about free-market individualism. It explores how art and artist responded to neo-liberalism’s effects on arts funding and exhibitory spaces. It also dedicates space to exploring queer identity, in the context of the AIDS crisis and Section 28. Here is where I wish my friend had managed to attend – him being a scholar specialising in AIDS history and literature (if you are reading this - I hope this is not a wild misrepresentation of your specialism!).

The final artwork – purposefully so, being at the end of a clockwise rotation of the final room – comes from Kate Walker: “The act of survival – a living monument” (1987). This is brilliant – a fabric dress and palette set up like a memorial. She articulates frustration that only dead artists are revered. Quoting from the gallery text, “Walker announces that she is too busy to wait for recognition, so she is declaring herself a living monument to the art of survival […] a monument to women artists who have been overlooked”. As a sort of epilogue to the gallery, this is remarkably effective – demonstrating incredible curatorship from Young.

The exhibition finishes with an Afterword – “It recognises that there is no single definition of feminist art, there never was and there never will be.” The final word is granted to Kate Walker, from 1974, that “in the absence of a feminist art we must invent it as we go along. Here is a start, please carry on”.

The words speak for themselves – for me to expand on their success and power would be self-indulgent. Overall this is a remarkable engagement with social history through the medium of art and the artists who created them. It has nuance, range, and the artworks to back up its message. As long as you are fine with the purposefully invasive ambient screaming, then this is a brilliant and insightful exhibition. It lives up to its exclamatory title and is well worth visiting – especially now that it is free.

Women in Revolt! is at The Whitworth between March 7 and June 1 2025.