Women and girls dance through the streets. They dance freely and not just in ‘Women’s Marches’ or ‘Reclaim the Night’ rallies. In my dream, rallies aren’t needed anymore. What would it be like for all women and girls to feel safe in their homes, at university and at work? To be equally represented at all levels of society? To have unviolated power regarding our own bodies and freedom over our own reproductive choices throughout Australia? If we were equal, what would we do?

We would dance.
Dance.

This is what I see when I look at Deborah Kelly’s Power/Play (2018). Drawn from materials from archival editions of Judy’s Punch, Kelly has re-photographed found images, remixing these into a large digital collage that invokes the aesthetics of a fabulous all woman dance party. Along with remixing, this too is a Kellyism. Not intended to sit just within the rarified white cube, hers is art for the people. That it has the energy of a dance party is a throwback to Kelly’s own years as DJ in the mid 80’s, keeping the beats going for The Womyn’s Ball, Caviar Club and fundraisers for Judy’s Punch.

First produced in 1985, Judy’s Punch is the annual University of Melbourne Student Union Wom*n’s Department’s unapologetically feminist zine. The fact that the University has not kept a complete archive of this publication is notable to Kelly, who sees it as ironic evidence of its continued necessity. Kelly’s practice is political, satirical, rooted in social engagement and feminist commentary. Power/Play has acerbic humour woven into the raucous colour and animated figures. Keyed into this riotous rainbow are glowing hot pinks, lavender, peacock blues and ivy league green. An anonymous woman is re-coloured in suffragette purple, green and white. Before the days of rainbow flags, pink was the colour of Pride for gays and lesbians and old skool dykes wore suffragette colours and downward triangles. These were clues to follow in an era when gay/lesbian bashings were commonplace. In those years, to walk down the street as a woman with a shaved head was a red flag for homophobes and skin-heads to chase you down and beat the daylights out of you. In our current era of #MeToo, women are still being attacked on the streets. Just around the corner from where this lively artwork hangs, a woman was raped and murdered walking home from work and another woman was viscously sexually assaulted by a man near Gatehouse Street. Another work by Kelly, But how can I protect you…if you don’t feel threatened (1983) appeared in the very first edition of Judy’s Punch. The harsh reality of male violence against women is very close to home.

Placed on an external wall of the ERC Library at Parkville, Power/Play’s large vinyl billboard greets you with open arms and uterine glee on entry to the campus. In the image, a worker is shoved into the lower left corner, a cleaning woman with mop in hand speaking silently to the marginalized voices of lower waged and predominantly part-time work of women, especially of immigrants, women of colour and single mothers. Two youthful exuberant women dominate the centre of the work, forming central core imagery in the cosmic space between them. Emblazoned on the dress of the central figure is the face of a goddess from antiquity, her eyes staring out like naked breasts. It’s a riff on #freethenipple and the constant policing of women’s bodies. “Plus it’s funny,” says Kelly. These women have all the optimism of youth, yet are dressed in 60’s fashion. Are these abandoned dreams? Along with the dashed declarations of “No Fees”, how long must we hold onto hopes of emancipation?

At either side of the central banner are two light boxes with the text, “*which GIRLS” (at left) and “RULE THE WORLD” (to the right). The text references Beyoncé’s song ‘Run the World (Girls)’. The work invites questions: which girls? Who rules? Stroking the suffragette’s hair, a trans woman’s hand reaches in. Which women? Cis women, trans women, women of colour? Where is the image of Wurundjeri women, upon whose unceded land this artwork is installed? The question of who is excluded is powerfully evoked by Kelly who with surgical precision collages notions of power and privilege along with intersecting tensions in which we too may be complicit.

Directly below the artwork in matching royal blue the University has installed its latest security measure. By chance or planning, Kelly’s work now sits above a HELP phone. If I picked up the phone to call, who would answer? I imagine Queen Bey. Serena Williams. Perhaps Aunty Joy Murphy Wandin or Magda Szubanski. Maybe Malala or Eve Ensler. I’d like it to be a conference call. When I asked Kelly who might be on the line, she gives her own one-two, “The Vice Chancellor in charge at that time” she said. “I’d ask why didn’t they bother to maintain the archive of Judy’s Punch?”