Alice Maher and Rachel Fallon: The Map

By Rebecca Schiffman

Installation view: Alice Maher and Rachel Fallon: The Map, Irish Arts Center, New York, 2024. Courtesy Irish Arts Center. Photo: Stephanie Powell.

The Map
Irish Arts Center
September 6–29, 2024
New York

Alice Maher and Rachel Fallon’s The Map, on view at the Irish Arts Center, cartographizes the institutionalization and incarceration of women throughout Irish history. The work literally maps landscapes of oppression and resistance that have shaped women’s lives, highlighting events and legislation including the Public Dance Halls Act (1935), which sought to restrict dances without clerical oversight; the hidden history of the Magdalene Laundries, Church-run and for-profit workhouse institutions that confined “fallen women” for over two centuries; the incarceration of women under the Contagious Diseases Acts (1864–86) due to suspected venereal diseases; and the long history of abortion in Ireland, only legalized in 2018. These and many other histories are personified or portrayed as countries, cities, mountain ranges, bodies of water, crests, and constellations that are hand-sewn, embroidered, and painted onto the massive, 21 by 15 foot textile sculpture, which took the artists over three years to complete. The Map (2021) is a triumph that merges artistic skill with righteous political activism, challenges the myth of progress, and reveals the intricate, often painful, realities that continue to define the struggle for women’s rights in Ireland and that reverberate globally.

Upon entering the theater, visitors encounter the back of The Map, which slices across the room at a sharp diagonal. From behind, the monumental tapestry emerges from the darkness; its intricate network of veins and channels woven from threads and fabric looks almost biological, set against a curved semicircle that evokes the shape of a fetal ultrasound scan. As we walk to the front, the piece transitions from a symbol of creation and gestation to a multifaceted narrative that intertwines feminist histories, a reexamination of Christianity, and a critique of the Irish state’s distortion of human sexuality. There is a lot to unpack––so much that the map itself seems to be leaking under pressure or bleeding out: a tangle of red crocheted strings and an amalgamation of organic forms hang down from the center, lying on the floor.

The map rests atop a Prussian blue background representing the cosmos, adorned with constellations and heraldic emblems. Notable constellations include “The Little Laundress” and “Ten Cigs,” which indict Ireland’s notorious treatment inside the Magdalene Laundries, or the sister star systems “Peccatrix Major and Minor” that call attention to the sin of being a single pregnant woman, and then a single mother in Ireland, groups that have often faced significant social stigmas and legal challenges. The circular heraldic crests, on the other hand, call attention to the important work that Irish activists have done in the face of these adversaries. A blue crest, adorned with a black bird and sword, represents the Curragh of Kildare Act of 1861, a significant piece of legislation aimed at regulating the use of the Curragh, an area of common land in Kildare. The Act formalized the management and preservation of the land. Another crest, emblazoned with the word “Repeal!” highlights the Health (Regulation of Termination of Pregnancy) Act of 2018, which legalized abortion. This Act hits close to home for the artists––in 2015, Maher, along with a group of Irish artists, launched a campaign to repeal the Eighth Amendment, creating a public face for the Repeal side.

Installation view: Alice Maher and Rachel Fallon: The Map, Irish Arts Center, New York, 2024. Courtesy Irish Arts Center. Photo: Stephanie Powell.

The map itself unfolds like a scroll, depicting islands and larger stretches of land that might be continents, embedded with even more histories of oppression and suppression. Though detailing these histories can become disheartening, the reclamation of the craft medium, the use of vibrant colors, and the implementation of whimsical symbols all work together to introduce elements of levity and playfulness. Although it may be overwhelming for a single viewer to attempt to grasp every motif and aspect of The Map, this complexity serves as an allegory for social justice and activism, illustrating how individuals select their own causes to champion within a broader, multifaceted struggle.

Gravitating towards the more obvious humor, I found that I would like to reside in the center archipelago composed of an “Isle of Shits,” an anus-shaped land mass called “Hysteria,” and a trio island comprised of cities “Heterotopia,” “Myopia,” and “Utopia.” Another country, called “Metamorphopolis,” called to me with its intricate craftsmanship and symbolic detailing. There, in the “Imaginal Forest,” plants and vegetation bloom, grow, and intertwine with one another. However, I would not like to stay on the western front, in the “Land of the Law,” which recounts all the varied laws that were enacted to supposedly protect women, including the Murphy Report, a sexual abuse scandal, and the aforementioned Public Dance Halls Act that banned jazz music, among others. But I would vacation in the south, in the “City of Lovers,” where music plays and couples kanoodle in brick pools.

At the apex of The Map, a red-haired figure stands with her back turned to the viewer; she represents Mary Magdalene, a contradictory and complex figure in Christianity. Historically, male clergy have often told the story of Mary Magdalene as a prostitute, a narrative that transcended to all women, showing that women can’t be glorified or considered trustworthy if they haven’t redeemed themselves from their shameful pasts. This portrayal reflects a broader societal tendency to simplify and moralize women’s histories to fit a redemptive framework. In Ireland, where Catholicism has profoundly shaped societal and cultural narratives surrounding female shame and redemption, Mary Magdalene’s image serves as a significant symbol for representing women’s experiences. Her representation in The Map thus critiques these reductive stories, highlighting how women’s complex realities are often overshadowed by simplified, shame-based narratives. After all, Mary Magdalene was the first person that Christ appeared to after the Resurrection—she holds more power than we often give her credit for, and the same goes for all women.

CONTRIBUTORS

Rebecca Schiffman is a Brooklyn-based writer, editor, and art historian.