In Autotheory as Feminist Practice in Art, Writing, and Criticism (2021), scholar, curator, artist, and writer Lauren Fournier fullfils the promise of the title: to layout a wide-raging understanding of autotheory not so much as a genre, but as an interdisciplinary, intersectional practice, an “impulse” to blend the “auto” with “theory.” Fournier has already published the article “Sick Women, Sad Girls, and Selfie Theory: Autotheory as Contemporary Feminist Practice” (2018),[1] which pretty much established her as the expert on this (much hyped) phenomenon.

With this book, Fournier proposes a double gesture: to define and to expand. The introduction is a perfect, deep-diving, what-you-need-to-know, from historical overview[2] to the multidisciplinary definition she favours.[3] She makes a very conscious point of giving credit to women and queer BIPOC (Black, indigenous people of colour) whose ground-breaking contributions have historically been overlooked in favour of white counterparts (she names, for instance, Audre Lorde, Gloria Anzaldúa, bell hooks, Cherríe Moraga, Sylvia Wynter). The rest of the book covers different facets of this “autotheoretical impulse”: self-imaging, critique, citation, disclosure, and exposure.

The first chapter revels in Adrian Piper’s Food for the Spirit (1971), a performance piece that engages with Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. This is a brilliant (and brilliantly chosen) example that helps unfold the multidisciplinary potential of autotheory and solidly makes Fournier’s point (in more ways than one, Piper is, after all, a Black woman, too). The second chapter points a finger at the theoretical surge in art-schools-turned-universities (which seems an important lead in the rise of autotheory) and engages in a vaster sweep of examples, mentioning Chris Kraus but also visual artists engaging with – again – different media, from video to social media to industrial objects. The third chapter targets memoiristic approaches that weave in citations as an intrinsic part of describing, or understanding, being-in-the-world (Moyra Davey, Maggie Nelson, Joanna Walsh), with an essential Barthesian swerve, touching on queer and trans concerns, and potential issues of ethics and appropriation. Chapter four takes similar themes but applies them to visual art. Here Fournier highlights anew the political implications of citational and referential practices. Chapter five picks up the Chris Kraus thread in order to dive into the complications of exposing (and/or fictionalising) the self in feminist narratives (the personal is political), including a detour into cancel culture. The conclusion is particularly personal, mostly revolving around a university event with David Chariandy (a Black writer). Fournier uses this moment, and the interactions that subsequently transpired, as an opportunity to channel final reflections on class, race, and community.

Fournier is generous with her examples. She declares the choices “intuitive,” fruit of her own experiences. This seems not only valid, but exactly what this kind of research calls for. Fournier’s defence of autotheory as multidisciplinary is rather undeniable, yet I have found myself wondering whether some of the instances may feel like too much stretching of the autotheory label. Without a doubt, the author’s intent is to spark a bigger conversation, to make a radical proposal that other scholars can use as a base for further work. But I cannot help but wonder whether the stretch may distort the definition just as it launches (let us not forget that this is the very first book on autotheory as such). Is printing textual fragments on a vinyl floor autotheoretical? How about the mere mention of “theory” as a general term in a visual artwork, or of the names of canonical theorists?

Fournier also proposes that the book is, in itself, partly autotheoretical. There is an early passage in which she describes herself reading about narcissism in the British Library, then moving on to the Tate Modern, where she stumbles upon Piper’s work, and eventually ending (possibly my favourite image in the whole volume) being fed bites of Luce Irigaray’s poached pear…by Irigaray herself. It is utterly delightful in all its detail. Poached pears! Hand-fed! This whole sequence allows the reader two effects (or affects, even): on the one hand, the pleasure of savouring the anecdote, on the other, the freedom of some space (the more descriptive tone allows the reader to project their own thoughts, impressions, and conclusions). Other personal accounts, on the contrary, are more insightful in their content, but at the expense of revealing the author’s own positioning, directing the reader more explicitly: more telling than showing.

That said, one of the genuinely exciting things of witnessing the emergence of autotheory is to discover the myriad ways in which it can be applied and interpreted, seeing new ways that this “auto” voice presents itself and the materials with which it engages. In this sense, Autotheory as Feminist Practice is a great tool for discussion and exchange, and not simply a guide. It is a wonderfully rich source, and surely an essential contribution not only to those interested in autotheory: Many of the discussions in it are relevant to anyone engaging with wider concerns in contemporary art, writing, and criticism. I am very curious to see how this book will pave the way for others, as it is bound to do, feeding essential bites from its position as first of its kind.

[1] Fournier, Lauren. "Sick women, sad girls, and selfie theory: autotheory as contemporary feminist practice." a/b: Auto/Biography Studies 33, no. 3 (2018): 643-662.

[2] Fournier comes across as especially sensitive to the American context from which she writes. 

[3] The term “autotheory” is most often associated to literary pieces.