I want a bass player in my band, a revolutionary, inspired by those hot D.C. Bitches, someone who can play OK, and stand in front of 30,000 people, take off her shirt and have “FUCK YOU” written on her tits. If you’re not afraid of me, and you’re not afraid to fucking say it, send a letter. No more pussies, no more fake girls, I want a whore from hell, who loves the Pixies and the Germs.
Courtney Love, looking for a bass player (in 1992?)
These were posters I did for my Honors Class. Objectified women, with quotes about their objectification taken from feminist theoretical essays. Art inspired by Scrojo’s rock posters and classic pin-ups! <3
Wouldn’t the worst be, isn’t the worst, in truth, that women aren’t castrated, that they have only to stop listening to the Sirens (for the Sirens were men) for history to change its meaning? You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she’s not deadly. She’s beautiful and she’s laughing.
Hélène Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa (in Signs 1:4, Summer 1976)