Blood is utilized in performance works as violence against women. Sexual violence is a common theme in performance art, as many women artists have turned to this medium as a means by which to reclaim bodily autonomy and authority. The idea that a woman’s body does not belong to her is deeply ingrained and reasserted throughout her life. Abortion legislation, catcalling and sexual harassment, heavily edited images on social media and ads, school dress codes, general objectification and assault all contribute to this narrative.



Rape Scene, 1973
Ana Mendieta’s Rape Scene was created after a fellow student at the University of Iowa was brutally raped. Mendieta’s rage surrounding the crime led her to create a work in which she repositioned herself as the rape victim, and invited her class to enter the scene she had created in her apartments. The lower half of her body was unclothed and displayed, with streaks of blood running down her legs. Her arms were bound as she lay over a tabletop. Viewers were confronted with the very graphic, visceral scene of the aftermath of rape. The violent and graphic nature of this work asked viewers to consider the ways in which they may be complicit in rape culture, which often blames the victim for their assault rather than simply believing a crime has been committed and serving justice. Sexual assault runs rampant on college campuses, and disproportionately affects women of color. Women from the ages of 18-24 are at an especially high risk, and women in college are about 3x higher risk than women on average.

Body Tracks, 1982
Blood was a very prominent and common medium for Mendieta. She once again used blood in her piece Body Tracks. In this work, the artist stood in front of a wall with only paper and buckets of blood. In one smooth motion, the artist dunked her arms deep into the blood buckets, imprinted her arms against the paper on the wall, and dragged her arms downward until a bloody track remained. She then exited the space. This work draws attention to the prominence of violence against women. After Mendieta leaves, all that remains for viewers to contemplate is the bloody streaks. The artist’s absence is perhaps the most poignant aspect of the piece, as she is asking the audience to think about missing and murdered women. 

Ablutions, 1972
Ablutions was performed by Suzanne Lacy, Judy Chicago, Sandra Orgel, and Aviva Rahmani. The performance consisted of three metal tubs, one filled with eggs, one blood, and one clay. Broken eggshells littered the floor, along with rope, chain, and animal kidneys. Two performers bathed in the tubs. One sat in a chair and was wrapped from feet to head in bandages. After the bathing performers had washed in each tub, they were wrapped in white sheets. Another performer nailed animal kidneys to the walls. Rope was draped over the whole set, creating a chaotic and tangled scene. While all this happened, an audio played which featured women detailing their rapes. The final line, “I felt so helpless, all I could do was lie there” played over and over again. 

Ablutions was performed in 1972. It was neither common nor accepted to talk openly about rape at this time. Lacy has said, “These women were hard to find. They did not want to talk. The rapes had been hidden for years from friends, family, even husbands… I saw how fear had become as natural to us as breathing” (Steinhauer The Art of the Unspeakable). The decision to include such visceral materials, particularly the blood and animal organs, was a direct correlation to the violent nature of the subject matter. This piece was shocking, encompassing the entire performance space in a messy, disgusting web. Ablutions was a pioneering work because rape was seen as an individual experience at the time. This piece, with its sisterhood and collaboration, told viewers that it was not. It emphasized unity and solidarity. Performance art became a medium through which women could not only openly talk about their shared experiences with sexual assault, but also a way to reclaim their bodies. Steinhauer, in her article “The Art of the Unspeakable”, writes that Ablutions “marked a quiet turning point in cultural history, when women began speaking publicly about their bodies, about what had happened and what had been done to them… they used their creativity for a reckoning” (Steinhauer). Trauma was faced, and fear was confronted. 

Duerman Tranquilos esta noche, 2017
Joyce Jandette’s Duerman Tranquilos esta noche is a ritual piece memorializing victims of femicide. The work begins with Jandette, who is completely naked, handing out small slips of paper to the audience. Each paper has the name of a murdered woman on it. Audience members then approach the artist, writing the names of the women on the artist’s body. After each name appears on Jandette’s skin, the artist kneels by a bucket of blood and begins washing the names away with blood soaked towels. Jandette washes frantically, crying and eventually screaming and beating their fists against the ground. A puddle of blood has pooled at Jandette’s feet, and the mixture of blood and black marker ink covers the body. Audience members then help clean the artist’s body with towels. A phallus shaped candle is lit, starting a small contained fire. Audience members drop the slips of names into the fire as a slideshow of graphic images of the murdered women is projected on the wall behind Jandette, who reads a text including the following:

Never again a blow struck against us.

Never again a life torn away, nor a drop of stolen blood… Accept it!

They are weak and they are defeated!

Sleep easy tonight because they will never, never, never again be able to rest in peace!

We promise you! 

No assault unanswered. 

Not one more. 

Not one less.

Combative feminism and rabid witchcraft!

The blood used to wash Jandette’s body, while still a clear signifier of violence against women and femicide, also appears threatening in this ritual. The murdered women represented in this work become immortalized through this kind of blood baptism, in which they are promised they will be remembered. Those enacting violence are also condemned in this work, which calls them out as cowardly and curses them. The clear anger and potential retaliation is what makes this piece so powerful, as artist and audience come together in rage to remember and mourn victims of femicide. The blood seems not only to represent murdered women, but also threatens consequences. The ritual feels as though it is simultaneously a curse and a hex, the blood embodying both qualities.