University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

The Iraq war: legitimizing victim art

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The Iraq war: legitimizing victim art

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THE IRAQ WAR:
LEGITIMIZING “VICTIM” ART

by

Alison Winter Tully

A Thesis Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
MASTER OF ARTS
(PRINT JOURNALISM)

May 2008

Copyright 2008 Alison Winter Tully
ii
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Sasha Anawalt and Nick Sexauer. Without your support, guidance, and patience, this
project would not have been possible.
iii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgments………………………………………………………………………...ii
Abstract…………………………………………………………………………………...iv
Body……………………………………………………………………………………….1
Bibliography……………………………………………………………………………..17
iv
ABSTRACT
The Iraq war has inspired a proliferation of artists to create work about the
physical and psychological trauma of warfare. In doing so, the work of other professional
artists, whose work in the past has been viewed merely as “victim” art and of no value to
the viewer, is gaining the respect of renowned art critics.
This professional project will examine three of these professionals: Nina Berman,
a photographer who shoots Iraq veterans who are severely wounded, Laura Ferguson,
who pencils detailed images of her spine with scoliosis, and Ted Meyer, who makes oil
prints of peoples’ scars that are the results of severe accidents or illnesses.
1
Marine Corps reservist Ty Ziegel, 24, returned home in 2006 to marry his high-
school sweetheart after a painful five-month tour of duty in Iraq. Clad in his uniform with
a Purple Heart medal pinned to his breast, Ziegel, in a photograph titled “Marine
Wedding,” looks at his young bride, Renee Kline. The shot by photographer Nina
Berman is typical of pre-nuptial portraits, except that the bride does not smile and the
groom’s face is an unblinking stare.
Two years earlier, during his second tour in Iraq, a suicide bomb attack had
trapped Ziegel in his truck and engulfed him in flames, melting away his facial features,
leaving his face a veritable blank slate. Doctors tried to reconstruct his face to give him
some semblance of normalcy. Instead, after 15 surgeries, gaping fissures exist where his
nose and ears once were. His skull was so severely damaged that a plastic dome replaced
the original bone structure.
”Marine Wedding,” once intended to be part of a photographic series by Nina
Berman for People magazine, was never published. The mainstream pop culture
magazine’s editors deemed the picture unsuited for the feel-good story they wanted to
tell. But Berman’s opportunity to reveal her side of the story was not lost. In 2007, she
earned a prestigious World Press Photo Award for the photo. Her photo was also
exhibited in a New York City gallery exhibition as part of her larger series of injured
vets. The exhibition broke new ground for demonstrating that war images of severely
damaged human bodies can, like all great art, provoke a powerful response. Do you have
any multimedia elements to this thesis, like a slideshow of these photos?
“Ms. Berman's photographs…are themselves tip-of-the-iceberg images. No matter
what the viewer's political position, the images add up to a complex and desolating anti-
2
war statement,” New York Times art critic, Holland Cotter, wrote in his review. “And
‘Marine Wedding’ speaks, as powerfully as a picture can, for itself.”
The Iraq War, on its fifth anniversary this month, would appear to be among the
greatest generators of change in the Western visual art world, persuading and inspiring
amateur and professional artists alike to choose wounded and afflicted bodies as their
primary subject matter. In addition, for the first time in American art history, both the
public and art critics have begun to receive what has been called “victim art” with open
minds and even praise.
Berman is one among three significant professional artists who have
revolutionized the field and cleared legitimate shelf space for “victim art.” Laura
Ferguson, who pencils detailed images of her spine with scoliosis, and Ted Meyer, who
makes oil prints of peoples’ scars that are the results of severe accidents or illnesses, are
two others who emblematize this new generation of artists. The three are making a mark
by recognizing the metaphoric value of bodies that are irreparably marked, as is the case
with Berman’s now-famous “Marine Wedding” image.
In the distant contemporary past, critics have classified their genre of work as
"self-therapeutic,” complaining that it provided a one-side conversation less interested in
engaging the viewer than in healing the artist and, as such, provided minimal value to the
visual art field. They point to such artists as Frida Kahlo and her paintings about her
illnesses and recovery from a near-death bus accident in 1925, which landed her in a full
body cast. In her day, critics accused Kahlo of being "hyper-realistic,” according to
author Benjamin Francisco Hernandez. Likewise, Vincent Van Gogh, who painted
"Starry Night" while being treated for psychological illnesses at Saint-Remy mental
3
hospital, was never seen as an important artist during his lifetime. After his death in 1885,
many art scholars like Marjorie Munsterberg, that his deep and agitated brushstrokes
reflected his inner anguish. Although he sold only one painting while alive, Van Gogh’s
fantastically tortured work gained almost universal acceptance and admiration once he
was dead.
In the recent past, criticism of the trauma art genre came to a head when New
Yorker magazine dance critic Arlene Croce refused to review choreographer Bill T.
Jones’ major new work of 1995, “Still/Here.” Jones, who is HIV/AIDS positive, featured
dancers also struggling with the disease and together they collaborated on a full-evening,
intensely personal, narrative piece about AIDS.
Croce called Jones' work "victim art" and claimed she could not review something
she "could only feel sorry about." She concluded, "The cultivation of victimhood by
institutions devoted to the care of art is a menace to all art forms."
Her words stunned and inflamed the art world. For any number of reasons,
perhaps partly out of reaction to Croce, but more likely because the world is increasingly
volatile, threatened by disease, global warming, terrorism, random violence on America’s
streets and school grounds---because of all this, more artists have been focusing their
work on traumatized bodies, their own or strangers’, as focal points for their art. Such
artists as Berman, Ferguson, and Meyer have empowered the artist to take himself
seriously as a self-reflective, self-healing creator.
There are other American artists like them who are inspiring critics to see so-
called “victim art” as legitimate and honorable. Not surprisingly, what many of the
therapeutic visual artists in America have in common is the Iraq War. For the past five
4
years, the traumatized body as a means for or subject matter of consequential art has
come of age.
“To some political art means protest art: slogan-slinging, name-calling,
didacticism,” wrote Cotter in the New York Times about a performance art work
protesting the Iraq War. “But in the trauma-riddled early 21
st
century, after 9/11 and
Hurricane Katrina, with a continuing war in Iraq, political art can be something else: a
mirror.”
Art about the war gives viewers a new perspective on a conflict that is hard to
grasp. Colorado gallery owner Alicia Bailey said that it shows the power of expressing
trauma in art.
"Artists are raising the bar,” said Colorado Gallery owner Alicia Bailey. "Their
work about illness is no longer esoteric. They are taking the work out of the therapeutic
realm and into another and therefore connecting to viewers."
Certainly the Iraq War is that other “realm,” inspiring artists to create work
reflecting the psychological and physical disfigurations of Iraq veterans. The public is
interested in this work because people are desperate to find some way to relate to the war
on a personal level.
"Paranoia is more widespread since 9/11. People in large numbers have been
sheltered from specific imagery and unless a person is actively reading the newspaper,
they aren't going have access to those images," says former Los Angeles Children’s
Hospital Art Therapist Jennifer Armstrong. "So people are hungry to have something
relatable."
5
Art therapy is a form of psychotherapy used with patients to address specific
traumas in their life ranging from illness to domestic violence in the home. A licensed
professional guides and instructs the patient to use visual arts to improve their mental
wellbeing. While there is an inherent therapeutic value in creating professional art, it is an
intuitive response for artists and done out of a desire to connect with a larger audience,
Armstrong says.
“Professional artists who create work about illness connects with an average
viewer because it has the ability to create empathy in a visceral way,” she added.
“Everyone lives with fears of their own physical vulnerability.”
New York City based artist Laura Ferguson was diagnosed with scoliosis at the
age of 12 and underwent corrective surgery. She started composing drawings of her
spine.
“When I had my first surgery done it was before they started using metal rods that
help to maintain the spine’s function,” she said during a phone interview in January.
“For me, this meant the surgery left areas of my spine without any movement.”
Her first surgery put her in a cast for a year to allow the bone to heal. The cast
was similar to what Frida Kahlo was forced to wear after a trolley car collided with the
bus she was riding in. The accident broke Kahlo’s spinal column, her ribs, her pelvis, and
impaired her uterus. “I’ve been so influenced by Kahlo, paintings like Broken Column
where you see her spine or images of her in her casts,” Ferguson said. “I feel an affinity
with her work. It showed me how you could make your own experience into art that
way.”
6
After years without symptoms, Ferguson had a sudden flare up at the age of 29
and sought further treatment. When an orthopedic surgeon recommended that she needed
more surgery, Ferguson decided instead on alternative remedies like yoga and
acupuncture.
In particular, practicing the Alexander Methods allowed Ferguson to study
something she had never researched before: her anatomy. The methods instruct people to
study kinesthetic movement and a series of exercises that relate to the body’s overall
movement like balance. Her teacher, Irene Dowd, also an artist, invited Ferguson to
private drawing lessons on the skeleton after treatment.
“I realized how complex and detailed it was and how much there was a visual
element to my scoliosis,” Ferguson said. “My issues with this duality--beauty and
deformity--let me do an artistic inquiry where I could look at my spine carefully and see
what I could find out.”
She dug up old X-rays taken before her surgery and began using a light box to
trace their outlines onto paper. Ferguson became frustrated because when she
superimposed the sketch, she wasn’t able to see it three-dimensionally where the front
and the back of her spine met.
“I felt that the x-ray was too limiting; it was only one point of view,” she said.
“Scoliosis is just so complicated that it was difficult to imagine what I would look like
bending over or any other movement, so I tried to find other kinds of medical imaging
that would help me.”
NYU doctors Dr. Andrew Litt and Philip Berman offered Ferguson access to a
revolutionary new imaging process that created multiple images of her spine. In 25
7
seconds, the scan took 800 X-rays of her spinal column. The new medical scans gave her
the kind of perspective she was looking for, allowing her to draw more accurate and
complex images of her back.
“The work made me feel more three-dimensional, or more connected to my body
as a whole. My body became very beautiful to me,” Ferguson said. “I never saw myself
as having a deformity, but my back was something that was just disconnected from me
and as a result I felt flattened out.”
Ferguson said that the major difference between Kahlo and her is that while
Kahlo’s work is about expressing her physical pain, hers is about understanding and
accepting it.
“Kahlo’s work revels in her pain,” she said. “My work is more about getting
beyond it. By turning your body into a work of art, you are separating yourself from it
and making it into something beautiful.”
But both have had similar effects on their audience: a renewed appreciation of an
impaired body. Armstrong, who mostly works with adolescent girls who are recovering
from major accidents or illnesses, said she shows them Kahlo’s work frequently.
“These girls have so many fears about how they are going to look. They ask
questions like, ‘Now that I have these scars, will I get asked out on a date?’” she said.
“Kahlo’s work makes them feel less isolated and comforted.”
For viewers and medical professionals like Dr. Felice Aull of NYU, Ferguson’s
work has led to a greater understanding of the human anatomy.
“Ferguson makes no secret of the fact that it was ‘therapy,’ but she goes beyond
that. Her art is art that the observer can appreciate for its own value,” she said. “The
8
technique she uses, which allows the viewer to see the body simultaneously from the
outside and through the skin to the very skeleton, is a highly professional achievement
that requires a good deal of creativity and technique.”
Drawing the skeletal form was both an artistic and emotional challenge for
Ferguson that taught her about the amount of rich detail and complexities that lie in the
human body.
“When you look at tissue on a microscopic level, you see things that are very
beautiful but then you find out that it’s a virus,” she said. “If you aren’t a scientist then
you don’t have preconceptions whether or not it’s good or bad. We tend to view health as
beautiful and illness as ugly. Instead, we need to see it for what it is.”
Ferguson said she has seen a definite trend in the last few years of merging health
and art. But like Kahlo’s critics, she said that several art critics feel that the work is more
about self-therapy for the artist and fails to share anything with the viewer.
“People in the art world are finally beginning to see that this kind of work has
broader applications,” she said. “People respond to my work very strongly. To portray
such an unusual body image in a new light is a powerful experience. There isn’t a lot like
that in the history of art.”
In the 2004 issue of the John Hopkins’ medical journal, Perspectives in Biology
and Medicine, Dr. Bruce Beckwith notes:
Over the centuries, the link between anatomy and art has been a close and
essential symbiosis, enhancing both art and medicine. But few artists have
succeeded as well as Ferguson in depicting in a single image both the
anatomy of the lesion and its impact upon the patient. Her marvelous
figures bring life and emotion into the traditionally cold science of clinical
anatomy.

9
Doing work about disability and illness speaks for the collective human condition,
despite what critics believe, Ferguson said. It gives people a way to reconnect to their
inner structure. “We just picture our bodies as a picture from a medical textbook,
something impersonal and generalized,” she said. “Having something wrong with my
skeleton made me connect with the idea that everybody has a skeleton and that people
should connect with their inner bodies.” Ferguson said that using art to make aesthetic
images about illness also helps people contemplate their own mortality. “Doing artwork
about disability raises a new definition of beauty; it doesn’t romanticize it, but when you
are dealing with illness or death it gives you a heightened sense of reality that is very
appealing.”
Like Ferguson, artist Ted Meyer was inspired to do work about illness after being
diagnosed with Gaucher’s Disease at the age of 7. The disease is caused by an enzyme
deficiency in the body, which causes fatty substances to build up in the body. These
substances disrupt the normal function of such organs as the liver.
Meyer’s spleen was removed directly after his diagnosis. While spending time in
recovery, he found that he had an affinity for art. “When I was in the hospital this woman
would come by with an art cart,” he said. “I found there was always a comfort in doing
artwork that had to do with illness.”
Illness became a central theme of Meyer’s work, leading him to paint dark and
disjointed figures. “My artwork has followed the total path of my health. When I was sick
the figures were pointy, skeletal and isolated,” he said. “It wasn’t until I got healthier that
I started to paint groups of figures and healthier-looking bodies”
10
Once Meyer had both hips replaced, his symptoms became very minimal. This
made him move towards doing work with brighter colors and fuller nude figures.
In 1999, VSA Arts, a Beverly Hills art gallery, hung several pieces of this series
of work. While mingling with guests, he watched as a blonde woman moved painting to
painting, totally unaffected by the wheelchair that she was in.
Meyer approached her and learned that she, Joy, had broken her back at a young
age at summer camp. While gliding on a zip wire between two trees, she slipped and fell
20 feet down, landing on her lower back. The accident left her paralyzed from the chest
down. Ted and Joy started to date.
“Joy kept telling me that I needed to do artwork about my disability, but I really
didn’t want to do work about me anymore,” Meyer said. “So when she would sleep at
night, I would look at the scar on her back and think, ‘Well, maybe I can do work about
her and some other people.’”
He had an idea for a new art series. Meyer decided to create unique hand-painted
mono-prints of Joy’s scar in 1999 using water-based ink. He debuted them in a small
gallery and quickly received attention from other people who wanted their scars printed.
“I showed them and people just started walking up to me and literally pulled their shirts
off, it didn’t matter if they were men or women,” Meyer said. “They would pull their
shirts off or pull their pants down to show me their scar, tell me their story and ask if I
could print them.”
To make each design, Meyer rolls paint over his subject’s scar and lays paper
against it. After Meyer transfers the image on paper, he details its edges with paint and
pencil. He then lets each subject choose his favorite print for the series, free of charge.
11
While Meyer has sold a few of the prints for around $500, he says that the most important
thing to him is not the market value of each piece, but the reaction it receives.
Meyer said that after he started making more prints, gallery visitors wanted to
know each subject’s story and how they got their scars. He added a small chart next to
each print mapping where it is on the body. Eventually, Meyer began taking pictures of
the participants and included a small biography next to each image.
“Unlike photos, I didn’t want people to be jolted by the images. For me, I wanted
people to walk in and see the prints and say, ‘That’s a nice piece of abstract art,’ then say,
‘That is kind of gross, this is somebody who had a rod in their back,’” Meyer said. “Then
they see that [the subjects] are healthy now and learn how their life changed.”
When Meyer approached several galleries and museums, Adrianne Noe, director
of the National Museum of Health and Medicine at the Walter Reed Hospital in
Washington, D.C. took an immediate interest in the work. In a New York Times article on
October 4, 2006, she told the reporter, “’When I saw the images they just clicked. There’s
something universal about a scar — everyone has one or knows someone who does,” she
said. “But your scar is yours, like a fingerprint. It doesn’t look like anyone else, so there’s
this great quality of the particular and the personal, too, that made the work very
powerful for me.”
The images were also powerful for the recovering Iraqi vets at Walter Reed.
“They thanked me for helping them see their scars as something other than the stigma of
combat,” Meyer recently told The Citizen, an arts and entertainment newspaper based in
Los Angeles.
12
Another of Meyer’s models, thyroid cancer survivor Vanessa Gill, 31, likes to
wake up every morning and look at her scar as a reminder of her disability. “My scar is
like a trophy, it reflects everything that I’ve been through and everything I’ve overcome,”
she said in an interview in her one-bedroom Culver City, Calif., home.
She was diagnosed in 2002 after she found a lump on her neck. “I was just at the
doctor and said, ‘Oh, while I’m here you might want to take a look at this,’” Gill said.
“So he ran some tests and I didn’t hear anything, but a few weeks later I got the call that I
needed to have surgery.”
Gill said the art allowed her to put her scar on a permanent stage. “I like the print
because it shows that my scar is really there,” she said. “Because it healed so well, it isn’t
really noticeable and I want it to be because it makes me unique.”
It also didn’t take Terry Ellsworth long to be immediately drawn to Meyer’s
work. “Ted just invited me over and I flipped out,” Ellsworth said, sitting in an old
downtown L.A hotel. “Because it just draws everything together. When you see the small
scar on the infant or the women with the missing digit, you realize that misfortune
doesn’t favor male, female, young, old.”
Ellsworth had heart transplant surgery in January 2003 after being diagnosed with
congenital heart failure. “I thought I had bronchitis because I was coughing up a lot of
phlegm,” he said. “Eight months later I went to the doctor and he put me on a treadmill to
test my stress levels and I could tell that something was seriously wrong.”
Ellsworth had a print taken in green paint of the transplant scar on his chest.
Ellsworth is the typical subject whom Meyer looks for. “The biggest criterion for me is
13
that the experience was life-changing,” he said. “Terry is a perfect example; here’s a guy
who just loves his life now because he went through this.”
The scar art project has grown from 10 prints to close to a hundred. He said that
many critics question its artistic value. “Sure, it only takes me an hour to do a print and
months to do a painting, but I allow people to tell a story that is unique to them,” he said.
“The print is a special way of telling someone, look at what I went through and
survived.”
For photographer Nina Berman, chronicling the survivors of the Iraq War allowed
her to show a perspective untold by the mainstream media. “After the war began, I knew
I needed to cover it. I couldn’t just be a consumer of it,” she said through an e-mail
interview this January.
She chose to cover wounded victims because they had not been covered in the
media. She began typing words like “leg,” “amputee,” and “injured,” into Google’s
search engine and calling possible subjects.
“I focused on the wounded in order to show an irrefutable example of the human
cost of war at a time when the depiction of war was quite fantastic and exhilarating,” she
said.
Traveling around the country, she stopped at each soldier’s home, spending a few
days at a time snapping photos and talking about their experiences. Being in such a
personal setting gave her a deeper understanding of the war’s effects on their lives. She
met family members and significant others, and visited childhood haunts of the young
men. “I took my photos post-hospital to emphasize the permanence of their condition,”
14
Berman said. “Seeing a wounded soldier in a hospital setting suggests that the condition
is temporary and it can be fixed.”
Ultimately, Berman compiled the images and stories of 20 soldiers and published
them in Purple Hearts, Back from Iraq. Her goal was to use the disfigured condition of
the vets to show a more realistic picture of war.
“All the reasons we went to war, it just seems like they’re not legit enough for
people to lose their lives for,” Spc. Robert Acosta, 20, an ammunitions specialist with the
1
st
Armored Division, said in the book. “You see on TV two soldiers got wounded and
you think, ‘Yeah, he’ll be alright. But those soldiers are physically and mentally scarred
for the rest of their lives.”
Acosta lost his right hand and the use of his left leg in July of 2003 when a
grenade was thrown into his vehicle near the Baghdad International Airport. He is
photographed in front of his childhood home. In the background, there is a small garden
and a large tree with a birdhouse and two American flags waving. Acosta looks down
with one hand buried in his pocket; the other, an attached hook, rests on his hip.
Another subject, Spc. Jose Martinez, 20, was driving a humvee through Karbala
in April of 2003 and hit a land mine. The explosion severely burned his face, head and
body.
“I was always considered the pretty boy in high school. I was told I was always
cute. I relied on my physical appearance,” he said in the book. “Now, I’m this great
picture of the army.”
Berman opened the book with this quote because Martinez said it with such
denial, she said. It is the physical and emotional realities for men like Martinez that she
15
wanted to capture in her photos, a perspective that the soldiers themselves felt had not
been told. From the book’s layout to creating the artistic component of each frame,
Berman uses the soldiers’ severe injuries to highlight the aftermath of war on their
everyday lives.
“My soldiers are photographed alone. They appear quite alienated and no one is
present in the frame to fix them up. There is no helping presence in the picture, which
speaks to the failure of society.”
This composition also makes the viewer focus on the psychological effects of the
war. “Over the course of the project I became less interested in the physical evidence of
the wound, like amputations, and concentrated more on the psychological consequences,”
she said. “That way, the viewer does not linger on the physical deformity but instead
looks into the eyes of the subject, the composition of the frame.”
Berman said that the project allowed her to investigate what she calls, “the
American way of life,” or how ideology affects the country’s actions. “I have tried to
understand through most of my work how ideology is articulated,” she said. “Various
ideologies have led this country on a nearly continuous path of war and I feel that my
images of these veterans contribute to that discussion.”
Berman titled the book Purple Hearts after the medals given to soldiers who are
wounded or killed during battle. She said her goal was to evaluate America’s
endorsement of military heroism. The photographs and transcripts helped Berman
evaluate the state of injured soldiers after returning home. “I feel that my images speak to
an ‘anti-heroism,’ a heroism that is routinely discussed,” Berman said. “The strong
physicality of a soldier, the victorious American military machine.”
16
“People have a hard time understanding these images…but these images should
be commonplace by now,” she told a Mother Jones reporter in 2004. “When you have
almost 8,000 injured in combat and another 15,000 or so injured in combat support, you
should be seeing these photos all the time.”
17
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Armstrong, Jennifer. 19 March. Phone interview.
Aull, Felice. 10 March. E-mail interview.
Bailey, Alicia. 18 March. Phone interview.
Beckwith, J. Bruce and Cassandra Aspinall. “The Visible Skeleton Series: Laura
Ferguson.” Perspectives in Biology and Medicine.
Johns Hopkins University Press, Spring 2004.
Berman, Nina. 22-25 January. E-mail interview.
Berman, Nina. Purple Hearts. Great Britain: Trolley Ltd., 2004.
Cotter, Holland. “Coco Fusco’s ‘Operation Atropos’: Fantasy Interrogation,
Real Tension. The New York Times. 30 May 2006.
Cotter, Holland. “Words Unspoken Are Rendered on War’s Faces.”
The New York Times. 22 August 2007.
Croce, Arlene. “Discussing the Undiscussable.” The New Yorker. 2 January
1995.
Ellsworth, Terry. 14 April. Los Angeles. Personal interview.
Ferguson, Laura. 8-10 January. Phone interview.
Foehl, Tucker. “Purple Hearts: Back from Iraq.” Mother Jones. 28 October 2004.
Gill, Vanessa. 25-27 April. Los Angeles. Personal interview.
Hernandez, Benjamin Francisco. “Frida Kahlo: A Mexican Icon in the World of Art.”
Available at http://q-vomagazine.com/frida_kahlo.html.
Jerald, Johnathan. “Ted Meyer: Scarred for Life.” The Citizen. 2007 October.
Kennedy, Randy. “Artist Celebrates Scars’ Fierce Beauty.” The New York Times.
4 October 2006.
Meyer, Ted. 10-13 April. Los Angeles. Personal interview.
Munsterberg, Marjorie. “The Biography.”
Available at http://www.writingaboutart.org/pages/biography.html

Abstract (if available)

Abstract The Iraq war has inspired a proliferation of artists to create work about the physical and psychological trauma of warfare. In doing so, the work of other professional artists, whose work in the past has been viewed merely as "victim" art and of no value to the viewer, is gaining the respect of renowned art critics.

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Asset Metadata

Creator Tully, Alison Winter (author)

Core Title The Iraq war: legitimizing victim art

School Annenberg School for Communication

Degree Master of Arts

Degree Program Journalism (Print Journalism)

Publication Date 04/27/2008

Defense Date 04/01/2008

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Art History,OAI-PMH Harvest

Language English

Advisor Cray, Edward (committee chair), Anawalt, Sasha M. (committee member), Castaneda, Laura (committee member)

Creator Email tully.alison@gmail.com

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-m1200

Unique identifier UC1503535

Identifier etd-Tully-20080427 (filename),usctheses-m40 (legacy collection record id),usctheses-c127-59569 (legacy record id),usctheses-m1200 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-Tully-20080427.pdf

Dmrecord 59569

Document Type Thesis

Rights Tully, Alison Winter

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Repository Name Libraries, University of Southern California

Repository Location Los Angeles, California

Repository Email cisadmin@lib.usc.edu