TRACING (ARGENTINE) FEMINISM

ACROSS TIME, OR HOW MAITENA

PLAYS WITH LA HISTORI(ET)A
Janis Breckenridge
Whitman College

“Si bien soy feminista, no soy hembrista” (Maitena, Para ti

Online, May 2007)

More than twenty years after her first comic strip appeared in the fashionable, albeit
rather conservative, women’s magazine Para ti (December 7, 1992), Maitena Burundarena
(1962) remains wildly popular both within Argentina and internationally.1 Her humorous weekly
illustrations and satirical social commentaries—together with her wide-spread acclaim—have
frequently been compared to those produced by Quino, creator of Mafalda. Critics undertaking
serious examination of Maitena’s work praise her overt feminism and the audacious cartoonist
has been dubbed an “advocate of Latin American women” (Rohter). Maitena’s deceptively
simple yet consistently clever comics—Mujeres alteradas, Superadas and Curvas peligrosas—
draw on the ordinary dramas and quotidian traumas of contemporary urban middle-class
women.2 Her daily or weekly comics typically poke fun at a particular theme, teasing meaning
from a variety of perspectives. The disparate topics that undergo Maitena’s ironic scrutiny range
from relationships between the sexes to the (aging) female body, from motherhood to diet plans,
from the trials of maintaining domestic order to the tribulations of juggling a professional
career.3
Arguably, however, it is the tongue-in-cheek assessment of women’s “advancement” in
society throughout the decades (1920s-1990s), a recurring format featured throughout the
serialization of Mujeres alteradas, that remains Maitena’s signature comic. Indeed, Héctor D.

1
I wish to especially thank Maitena and Daniel Kon for their permission to reprint
original images from the Mujeres alteradas series. This essay also owes much to the keen
insights of two outstanding students, Rhiannon Clarke and Devyani Gupta, as well as my CDLTI
colleagues Daniel Forbes, Sarah Hurlburt, Kynde Kiefel, Justin Lincoln and Nicole Pietrantoni.
Thank you all.
2
Maitena’s popular Mujeres alteradas cartoons have appeared in newspapers across the
Spanish-speaking world, including El país (Montevideo), El nacional (Caracas), El mercurio
(Santiago de Chile) and El país (Spain).
3
The present article aims to offer a structural analysis of the formal elements at play in
Maitena’s chronology comics. For cultural contextualization of Maitena’s work within the
specific history of Argentina’s national feminism see Cynthia Tompkins’ article “Las Mujeres
alteradas and Superadas de Maitena Burundarena: Feminismo “Made in Argentina.” Tompkins
provides a succinct history of women’s rights and the various stages of the feminist movement
within the country together with an encompassing overview of the thematic components
underlying Maitena’s comics.

42
Janis Breckenridge 43

Fernández L’Hoeste, a scholar of Latin American cultural studies, asserts that “Her success,
firmly entrenched on feminine politics, is best exemplified by strips that propose a
chronologically comparative view” (348), however, he does not then offer a critical analysis of
these particular works. Cynthia Tompkins, in her insightful study of the feminist aspects of
Mujeres alteradas and Superadas surveys the recurrent themes and narrative content of these
strips, observing that a bittersweet tone denotes the challenges accompanying women’s
successes. I would add that a central component of Maitena’s highly gendered visual humor,
particularly in the chronology sequences, involves effective employment of stereotyped and
iconic imagery, not only with respect to typecast characters but also fashion, beauty trends,
interior decor and advances in domestic appliances and technology.
Reading Maitena’s construction of the evolutionary history of feminism (la historia)
through the specific lens of comic (la historieta) criticism—that is, paying close attention to the
form of these particular comic strips—reveals specific ways in which static images come to
represent snapshots of distinct eras as well as how humor functions both thematically and
visually. This essay examines the feminist content of Maitena’s signature timelines with respect
to cartoon format, paying particular attention to narrative voicing, typecasting and layout.
Maitena’s tight framing and distinct manipulation of gutters allows strict control of temporal
progression, creating a unique space for satirical questioning of women’s “advancements” in
contemporary society.

(De)Constructing la Histori(et)a Feminista

Todas las mujeres alteradas, a comprehensive edition compiling the previously serialized
comics into one volume, features eighteen such chronologies. Two explicit tropes provide an
organizing principle and a structural base for the repeated format. In nine of these comics the
decades advance from panel to panel, beginning in either the 1920s or the 1940s and ending in
the 1990s when the comic was being drawn; in these, the age and role of the women depicted
within the advancing frames tend to stay the same. A complementary approach can be seen in the
remaining nine cartoons, allowing for a distinct, yet parallel progression: the female characters
age by five or ten-year increments in each successive frame although no specific reference is
made to the temporal periods in question. These corresponding frameworks subtly underscore
that at the time of serialization, the Argentine feminist movement had indeed lasted a woman’s
lifespan.
With one notable exception that will be considered later, the structure, style and page
layout of these strips remain remarkably consistent, thereby establishing a familiar and
immediately recognizable pattern for the reader. The individual panels of the chronologies are
laid out in regular grids or blocks; thus they become separate and distinct, sharply delineated,
even as they form part of a thematic sequence. This logical and predictable format allows the
author to strictly control time. Although spatially contiguous, vast temporal gaps of equal
duration—specifically the span of a decade—exist between panels.
These comics are ideational or idea-centered rather than plot-driven, therefore Maitena
draws primarily upon situational or thematic links (instead of a narrative arc) to connect the
frames and ultimately make her point. As a result, rather than solely the panel-to-panel narrative
sequencing typical of graphic storytelling, Maitena simultaneously provides a tableau, whereby
even as the reader follows each sequence chronologically she can also readily absorb the entire
page in a single glance. That is, there exists a temporal unfolding together with an all-at-once
effect. As renowned comics theorist Thierry Groensteen asserts, such iconic solidarity remains
central to the medium which features “independent images that, participating in a series, present
the double characteristic of being separated . . . and which are plastically and semantically over-
44 Tracing (Argentine) Feminism Across Time

determined by the fact of their coexistence in praesentia” (18). In other words and in somewhat
paradoxical fashion, panels simultaneously exist as autonomous units and co-exist in relation to
other panels. Maitena’s technique of abruptly shifting from decade to decade relies upon
comparative value from image to image (the shock of radical change) while the full-page layout
capitalizes on an ironic cumulative effect or recognition of the costs of this so-called feminist
advancement, made visible across the overall composition.

The loosely drawn boxes neatly compartmentalize and order Maitena’s broad vision of
feminist history together with her unflinching social critiques; the individual compositions
contained therein are often effectively structured around seemingly mundane quotidian concerns,
events or scenarios—fashion trends, the contents of one’s purse, curfews—and (stereo)typical if
not outright formulaic familial interactions. This specific series is, of course, predicated on the
passage of time, and as such, sequencing relies upon a rhythmic formulation of repetition-with-
Janis Breckenridge 45

difference (almost a mirroring effect) across the page. Panel compositions in this particular
cartoon layout often remain relatively unchanged, while pertinent details radically evolve.
Challenged to create a dynamic montage from a series of static images, Maitena utilizes such
strategies as changes in characters’ movements, body position and gaze—together with clever
dialogue, often leading to a final amusing quip or pointed jibe—in order to highlight thematic
contrasts and ultimately achieve a visual and narrative crescendo.
Thus building upon each other sequentially, the progressive panels typically culminate in
a final frame that humorously questions if feminist successes have truly improved women’s daily
lives or if, perhaps instead, they have resulted in increased stress and/or decreased power and
agency. Maitena employs diverse narrative techniques to obtain this effect such as strategically
inserting clever reversals, abruptly changing the protagonist’s role or creating unforeseen
cumulative effects. One common strategy, suddenly switching the central character’s role in the
last panel, unexpectedly realigns reader identification. For example, in a series in which
housewives demonstrate their intelligence to adult men by easily manipulating modern
appliances and conveniences (washing machines, record players, the car, the checkbook and the
remote control), we know she has “arrived” in the 90s when she can now offer her young son
technical tips for playing a computer game (28). In a tableau chronicling girls’ curfews, a similar
shift occurs by means of a change in reader identification: at first aligned with a daughter’s
perspective who wishes to return home when forced to dine out with her parents (1940s), by the
end (1990s) the reader shares a parental viewpoint when a daughter has not returned home in
time for breakfast. In the comic shown here, a guilty and contrite son who obediently accepts a
deserved punishment gradually turns into a belligerent and willful child, threatening to denounce
his bewildered mother (69). Maitena’s “shtick” in these chronologies, then, seems to rely upon
an unexpected twist or a radical departure in a strip’s visual and narrative pattern so as to close
with a witty denouement.
The overtly deconstructive formulation of narrative content—recognition that feminist
advances have perhaps not produced desired advancements—has a direct counterpart in the
chronological construction and specific layout employed by Maitena. As a matter of course, the
timeline cartoons routinely deviate from standard comics practices with dramatic effect. Central
to comic art, as pioneering comics theorist Scott McCloud clarifies in his seminal work
Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art, is the notion of closure whereby readers actively and
consciously collaborate in the storytelling process by filling in the gutter or the gaps between
panels: “Comics panels fracture both time and space, offering a jagged, staccato rhythm of
unconnected moments. But closure allows us to connect these moments and mentally construct a
continuous, unified reality” (67). In contrast, the scene-to-scene linkages in the chronologies of
Mujeres alteradas necessitate an active reader willing to navigate and overlook the passage of
time between panels, ready to absorb the shock of repeatedly traversing dramatic leaps in time
and space as she moves from frame to frame. Remarkably similar to the jarring technique of
jump-cuts in film editing, where two sequential shots of a subject share similar positioning and
framing yet differ greatly in temporality in order to create an effect of abruptly moving forward
in time, this comic format demands a very different form of closure than that proposed by
McCloud.4 While McCloud signals the reader’s creative participation as they fill in gaps, here
the reader is called upon to willfully suspend the innate act of closure and instead rapidly
assimilate major transitions. Readers are asked to consider the effect of time’s passage rather

4
Continuity editing, which aims to produce a seamless transition between film cuts
similar to the closure between panels suggested by McCloud, creates the illusion of a naturally
unfolding fluidity in both time and space. In contrast, jump cutting deliberately signals dis-
continuity, typically experienced as a sudden leap forward in time.
46 Tracing (Argentine) Feminism Across Time

than to fill in gaps in the passage of time. Humorous impact relies not only on content but also in
large part upon the tension created between narrative sequencing (the traditional act of closure)
and radical temporal shifts. In this way, Maitena effectively manipulates comics’ dual identity as
sequential art (as described by Will Eisner) and “juxtaposed pictorial and other images in
deliberate sequence” (as defined by Scott McCloud 9). That is, Maitena successfully exploits
comics as the ideal medium to simultaneously showcase both progression and juxtaposition in
order to ironically depict changing social mores.

Drawing on Common Character(istic)s

Frequently derisive and often humorously satirical, the narrative voice presenting the
strip’s thematic content maintains a consistently playful—and sometimes cynical, even acerbic—
tone. Comics scholar and comics exhibition curator Ana Merino has noted Maitena’s inability to
predict her potential success and that “el personal sarcasmo con el que interpretaba la feminidad
sería la fórmula mágica de un nuevo humor.”5 Throughout Mujeres alteradas, a vivacious and
spirited narratorial function—particularly in titles and captioning—provides a subjective entry-
point to the comic, one that is blatantly complicit with the reader. Utilizing the first person
plural, this conspiratorial presence introduces situations and experiences presumably shared
universally by a (female) readership. In fact, this conversational banter at times assumes a game-
like format directly addressing characters and readers alike: “dime qué edad tienes y te diré…”
“a qué médico vas” (125), “qué esperas de un hombre” (254), “de qué color te tiñes” (276) and
“qué llevas en el bolso” (310). Hand lettering or script font reinforces the sense of intimacy and
personal interaction with the reader even as positioning the voiceover captions outside the frame
in distinct boxes serves to distinguish a more authoritative register. In this way, the feisty
disembodied voice maintains a visual disassociation that establishes an omniscient and rather
commanding narrative position. The framing text refrains from directly integrating into the
panels; nevertheless, the affable narrator remains intimately connected to the diegetic world
presented.
Further perpetuating familiarity and assuring reader engagement, the chronologies, in
keeping with the broader corpus of Mujeres alteradas, feature a multiplicity of women with
respect to age, marital status, profession and body type—even though each female character
clearly enjoys the privileges of the upper-middle class and all are unfailingly of fair-skinned,
European descent. In essence, these are modern women in a modern age—variations of a

5
It is worth noting that Riverhead Books has published the Mujeres alteradas series in
English with the title Women on the Edge. Curiously, another facet of universalizing the textual
component of the series was removal of specifically Argentine traits upon publication abroad.
Particularly notable are changes in vocabulary and the erasure of the voseo. As Pérez-Sánchez
explains “cuando la obra de Maitena se empieza a publicar en el suplemento semanal del
períodico español El País en 1999, fue “traducida” del dialecto argentino al español (“chaqueta”
por “remera”, “tía” por “mina”, “tú” por “vos”, además de sustituir las formas verbales en la
segunda persona del singular típicas del dialecto argentino, “querés, “tomás,” por las
convencionales “quieres,” “tomas,” etc. 93). The critic then astutely questions the adoption of a
Peninsular dialect (“uno de los más característicos y diferentes, junto con el argentino, de todo el
mundo hispanohablante”) (94) rather than a more neutral one, arguing that “Desde este punto de
vista, dicha traducción despide un leve tufillo neocolonialista español (94). While this article
references the collected works published in Spain, the inserted images, published with Maitena’s
generous permission, reproduce the original (and thus unaltered) comics.
Janis Breckenridge 47

sophisticated, hip, urban (white) Everywoman.6 Significantly, Maitena consistently presents this
otherwise diverse cast of female protagonists by means of simplified, cartoon-style drawings
rather than detailed, realistic portrayals. In this way, these women become stereotypical or iconic
representations, which, as McCloud asserts, not only fosters a sense of universalism but also
readily facilitates reader identification. As he explains, realistically drawing a character
emphasizes difference such that they appear more objectified or Other (44) whereas viewers can
more easily relate to abstract characters since “The more cartoony a face is, for instance, the
more people it could be said to describe” (31). Such broadly generic depictions, which border on
caricature or schematic representation, emphasize or exaggerate specific traits and attitudes
(ways of comportment) that seemingly define an era.7
As such, Maitena’s drawing style places her comics in the world of concepts and ideas
(McCloud 41). The women depicted in Mujeres alteradas are not recognizable individuals but
rather identifiable types. In this way, the entire series in general, and arguably the chronology
comics in particular, provide a space for critical engagement and analytical reflection. As Pérez-
Sánchez astutely observes, “a través de darle protagonismo a los temas y no a los personajes,
Maitena invita a sus lectores a realizar una reflexión intelectual en clave de humor sobre los
logros o falta de logros de la mujer occidental de clase media en una época de llamado
“posfeminismo”” (by giving the leading role to themes rather than characters Maitena invites her
readers to undertake lighthearted intellectual reflection regarding the successes or lack thereof of
middle-class women in the Western world in the so-called “postfeminist” era) (96). Maitena’s
cheerful and upbeat tone, artfully centered on ironic stereotyping, repeatedly delivers pithy and
at times scathing social critiques.
The result then, is that readers do not maintain sustained engagement with a specific cast
of characters for the duration of Mujeres alteradas but instead encounter this seemingly infinite
set of stylized representations connoting collective behaviors and ways of thinking. This

6
Maitena’s work has been criticized for its lack of diversity, especially with respect to
race and social class. Tompkins laments the lack of representation of lesbian characters while
noting “la pluralidad de rasgos físicos de los personajes que pululan las viñetas. Sin embargo, y
dándole otra vuelta de tuerca, las variantes se circumscriben a la clase media porteña,
metonímicamente argentina” (56-57). Tompkins further signals that class differences among
women are represented visually in Maitena’s works—la mucama or the housemaid, for example,
dons traditional uniforms and aprons while sporting a simple hairstyle such as a ponytail in
contrast to the señora’s sophisticated and professional attire and coiffure. Yet more often than
not, these figures remain invisible: “de las doce referencias al personal de servicio, la mucama
sólo es representada en cinco” (Tompkins 41). Héctor D. Fernández L’Hoeste levies a more
sustained reproach, one that structures his entire article. He contends that for Maitena “the
closest difference available are men . . . she has chosen to use them to empower her critique.
Class, on the other hand, while it does manage to gain some relevance in her world, is not as
problematic. Race ranks a distant third, almost set in oblivion. . . . [T]he cartoonist is depicting
her world as she sees and experiences it: female, upper middleclass, and very white—in that
precise order” (352-53). Significantly, Fernández L’Hoeste cites census data showing that 97%
of the Argentine population is indeed white (352) and further proposes a compelling counter-
argument to his own project, namely that “one could argue that Maitena uses parody in the way
of soap opera, as a means to poke fun at the lifestyle of a privileged sector” (360).
7
Barbara Postema describes this technique as a “code of economy, in which certain
details are left out so that the other details become all the more important” (2) while McCloud
asserts that “by stripping down an image to its essential “meaning,” an artist can amplify that
meaning in a way that realistic art can’t” (30, emphasis in the original).
48 Tracing (Argentine) Feminism Across Time

pertinent fact merits further consideration. To again cite Merino, “No existía una protagonista
definida que fuese la heroína de ese universo dibujado. El humor se fraguaba desde la
articulación irónica de los estereotipos femeninos” (178). Building on critical recognition of the
prominence afforded to typecasting and the broad categorizations made possible by employing
stock characters, Pérez-Sánchez further points out Maitena’s “estrategia de simultáneamente
jugar con estereotipos pero desmantelarlos (107). I would further argue that settings—including
home decor and possession of the most recent technological devices—serve as an extension of
character.8 Likewise, body language, facial expressions, posture and gesture articulate wide-
spread attitudes and common viewpoints.
In fact, seemingly minor or inconsequential background details, signs that might
otherwise appear to be superfluous and frivolous, assume greater consequence and provide
fundamental visual cues that readers (consciously or otherwise) must decode. As Harry Morgan
delineates in his illuminating study on the ways that caricature comes to define recurring comic
strip characters, “if we now look at these characters in terms of Signification [le signe], it
becomes clear that each of these constituent traits has a role to play” (28). But rather than
highlighting an individual’s unique quirks, Maitena employs stereotyped imagery to ironically
represent societal perceptions of gendered identity more generally and ever-changing views with
respect to women’s roles in particular. In this way, period-specific fashion accessories, make-up
and hairstyles become the very essence of stereotyped imagery. As auxiliary facets of
characterization, such relevant details not only point to stylistic trends readily associated with
discrete time periods, they further reveal the underlying social status, class standing and
economic well-being of the otherwise anonymous figures populating the comic frames. The
deliberate incorporation of these markers can serve to reinforce and reify old-fashioned, out-of-
date mindsets or, alternatively, underscore contemporary, progressive modes of thinking.

Understanding Maitena: The (Invisible) Art of Transformations

As mentioned earlier, an exceptionally compelling chronology, “De cómo el “ángel” de

la casa se ha transformado…en la “bruja” de la familia” replaces the series’ uniform, standard-
grid pattern with a dynamic two-page layout. The innovative arrangement of “ángel to bruja”
eschews the jammed, contiguous block structure as well as the compositional redundancy of the
other chronology comics, even as the disparate images form a similarly conceived chronological
sequence. In keeping with comics theorist Barbara Postema’s observation that since “most comic
texts do have a default format, a variation in the format becomes a source of signification in
itself” (45), this uniquely conceived cartoon warrants prolonged analysis.

8
In his review of Mujeres alteradas 5, author, journalist, critic and comics creator Pablo
De Santis points to Maitena’s unique style of incorporating background details into her comics.
Placing her work in the tradition of costumbrismo he observes that “Rara vez el humor gráfico se
permite el retrato de algo más que lo esencial: se supone que todo lo que visualmente no ayuda a
la risa, contribuye a apagarla. Por eso las páginas de humor suelen estar despojadas, al revés de
las de historieta. Pero Maitena acepta su misión de contadora de costumbres y dibuja todo. Entre
las cosas que tiene para decir, está también la profusión de objetos y palabras que nos rodean.
Maitena colecciona todo aquello que sobra—las cosas en el fondo del ropero, las excusas de
todos los días, los pensamientos secretos, las interminables charlas telefónicas—y con ese
material traza su retrato colectivo” (no pagination).
Janis Breckenridge 49
50 Tracing (Argentine) Feminism Across Time

In the new chronological configuration, interpretation of individual panels still relies on

the sharp contrasts and juxtapositions that underlie the habitual gutterless-grid layout, but the
frames no longer form linear strips or tiers. Instead, Maitena employs a loose and somewhat
chaotic compilation of images, an array tumultuous enough to warrant the inclusion of arrows to
properly align text with image. In addition to this seemingly haphazard page layout, a
multiplicity of framing devices—each disparate in style, shape, size and border—creates
irregular spacing between the diverse images. These asymmetrical and erratic gaps, which can be
read as margins or implied gutters, provide a space that allows time to flow more freely and with
greater fluidity than in the standard undeviating rectilinear format. Groensteen, when analyzing
the semiotics and enunciative impact of such interstices or peripheral zones, contends, “the
Janis Breckenridge 51

margin can, in playing within diverse parameters, inform the contents of the page and inflect its
perceptions” (33). Here, decreased formal rigidity, made possible with this somewhat laby-
rinthine network of gutters, establishes a new rhythm. Directing eye movement across and be-
tween the panels in a somewhat meandering fashion slows the perceived passage of time. In
contrast to the abrupt shocks of the jump-cut effect created by sharply juxtaposed images, this
layout creates the sensation of navigating temporal distances as one moves between the separate
images.
In this particular chronology, Maitena plays with the creative potential of indexical
representation; here, individual panels appear as hand-drawn reproductions of photographs from
bygone eras. Again spanning the decades from the 1920s to the 1990s, eight distinct looks given
to finished photos denote technological and stylistic changes in photography. Drawn with
attention to detail, the framing designs of these images reflect photographic norms—the look and
feel—of images from the past. Unique photographic proportions, coloration, distinct methods of
time stamping and even adhesive devices mimic the finishing styles in vogue during these time
periods. It is precisely this mimetic quality of the photographic framing and format that gives rise
to panel variation within this specific comic strip. Maitena’s inventive technique successfully
draws attention not only to the formal qualities of the photographic medium but also to otherwise
invisible comic conventions.9 As Postema rightly points out “Generally panels play only a
passive role in the sequence; they are unmarked. . . However, sometimes such panels can become
marked, through manipulation of the frame and the gutter, and then they actively contribute to
the signification of the sequence” (46). With this mise-en-scene, Maitena lays bare the
architectural components of the comic medium itself, calling attention to its own structural
devices in a highly self-reflexive fashion. To put it succinctly, form now overtly and self-
consciously mirrors thematic content.
Curiously, the rather realistically drawn frames contain remarkably cartoonish portraits
and snapshots; one image even utilizes standard comic conventions or codes—dollar signs in lieu
of pupils—to symbolize excessive ambition, cleverly illustrating the textual message that we
(women) are “estresadas por exigirnos logros profesionales” (233). But, whereas the other chro-
nology comics maintain a collective feel by presenting a multiplicity of female (stereo)types,
these images, despite maintaining the same cartoonish quality, directly allude to family photo-
graphs and personal memorabilia, evoking the personal intimacy of a family scrapbook.
Employing informal and even colloquial textual devices further contributes to the
intimacy of this design. As would be true of actual photographic images, the frames no longer
contain dialogue and thus confer greater independence and autonomy to both text and image,
though of course they remain intricately linked. The distinct register achieved by restricting the
narrator’s voice to isolated boxes has disappeared. Instead, variations in the cursive lettering
style for the narrative voice-overs, here highly reminiscent of captioning family photographs,
implies a chorus of female voices in addition to suggesting that the selected images represent
pages from distinct family albums rather than a single, authority figure in strict control. Each
narrator repeats and builds upon prior contributions until reaching a dizzying crescendo. The
resulting democratic social commentary relies upon the weight of incremental escalation for
humorous effect; each decade redoubles women’s burdens, duties and responsibilities rather than
awarding greater independence and the freedom to enjoy an increasingly carefree lifestyle. The
incremental rise in distress conveyed through the accruing descriptive adjectives—ansiosas,

9
McCloud refers to the comics medium as the “invisible art” while Postema directly
references Groensteen when reiterating that “very often the panel format becomes almost
invisible, since as a reader adjusts to a particular format, he or she fails to notice it any more”
(45).
52 Tracing (Argentine) Feminism Across Time

obsesionadas, preocupadas, inquietas, trastornadas, culposas, estresadas, desesperadas—ap-

propriately transmits a constant state of increasingly frenzied agitation. In a similar vein, the
sarcastic reiteration of “sólo” to introduce an ever-expanding list of societally-sanctioned goals
and expectations (from falling in love and finding a good husband to being good mothers,
studying something useful, feeling guilty for going to work and being stressed out by
professional demands) combined with increasingly emphatic punctuation, effectively expresses
mounting hysteria.
Corresponding images likewise communicate intensifying demands and anxieties. In
contrast to the other chronology comics, cumulative meaning does not rest upon the repetition of
similar situations. Instead, rapidly evolving content implies fast-paced changes and advances.
The images chronicle a noticeable progression from the formal guise of professional or studio
portraiture, a stylish, well-dressed woman posing alone, to action shots that capture women’s
shifting roles as they confront the expanding exigencies of family and eventually career.10 In
short, a growing sense of earnestness, resolve and perseverance accompanies the documentation
of increased expectations and responsibilities. Continuing the narrative technique of inserting a
humorous reversal in the final frame, the proverbial last straw in the nearly overwhelming series
of enumerations becomes women’s ongoing battles against aging and cellulitis. The obsessive
desire to remain young and thin, when set against more practical ambitions, seems a rather
trivial, superficial and perhaps futile—albeit nearly universal—pursuit.
In keeping with the dynamic layout, the very title of this particular comic suggests flux
and mutability. The entire chronology series, of course, is structured around changes across time;
however, the rhetorical shift from ángel to bruja directly references the historical evolution of
social mores and values regarding women’s roles—from the Victorian feminine ideal of the
selflessly devoted, submissive wife and mother to a disparaging label frequently applied to avid
feminists.11 Maitena derisively illustrates how the traditional ama de casa, a docile housewife
whose primary concern is maintaining domestic order and ensuring tranquility within the home,
becomes a bitchy, neurotic and fanatical hag who dares usurp the masculine role and provide for
the family, as the change in nomenclature from casa to familia might imply. Not coincidentally,
only the remote past (through the 1950s) remains aligned with the idealized designation of ángel,
insinuating that “modern” readers will not identify with this archaic formulation and antiquated
notion. Appropriately, the colloquial term bruja comes into play precisely with the cultural up-
heavals of the 1960s, including the advent of the international feminist movement, even as the
expression continues to resonate through contemporary times. Humorously co-opting the
pejorative term, Maitena successfully appropriates and embraces—only to then immediately
subvert—two opposing but equally damaging archetypal representations of women: glorification
of a sanctified ideal and condemnation of maligned feminists.
Openly subversive, “De cómo el “ángel” de la casa se ha transformado… en la “bruja” de
la familia,” together with the chronology series as a whole, directly explores shifting perceptions,

10
It is worth noting the changes in technology visible in these eight images which evolve
from complicated, formal, long-exposure images necessarily taken professionally in the studio to
quick snapshots taken with print and slide film and later, digitally. I am grateful to Dr. John
Gardner for pointing out that the Eastman Kodak Company’s advertising slogan of “You press
the button, we do the rest” (which originated as early as 1889) heralded a marketing strategy
aimed at amateur photographers interested in preserving memories rather than creating art and
thus both democratized and popularized photography.
11
“Angel in the house,” originally the title of a poem by Coventry Patmore celebrating his
wife, first appeared in 1854. Virginia Woolf and Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s writings adamantly
and directly reject this model.
Janis Breckenridge 53

expectations and roles of women within the family and society. To be sure, the entire Mujeres
alteradas collection provides a remarkable space for good-humored reflection (by a woman and
ultimately for women, everywhere) regarding how very much yet, in the end, how very little has
changed over time. Maitena’s outstanding international success as an audacious female
cartoonist creating a plethora of female characters and unabashedly addressing gendered topics
from a feminist perspective further challenges a male-dominated comics industry: “al introducir
a la mujer como elemento humorístico y redefinir su multiplicidad desde sus variables afectivas,
culturales, sociales y económicas, cambiaba los registros de una audiencia acostumbrada a temas
predominantemente masculinos en la sección gráfica de la prensa” (Merino 178-79). In short,
Maitena’s revolutionary work consistently destabilizes the status quo for women in society as
well as within the comics industry.

Works Cited

Burundarena, Maitena. Curvas peligrosas. 1st ed. Barcelona: Lumen, 2004.

—. Todas las Mujeres alteradas. 5th ed. Barcelona: Lumen, 2009.
—. Todas las Superadas. Barcelona: Lumen, 2007.
De Santis, Pablo. “Sobre la condición femenina,” Suplemento cultural. La nación. Web. (enero
16, 2002). Accessed 27 Aug. 2014. http://www.lanacion.com.ar/220322-sobre-la-
condicion-femenina
Eisner, Will. Comics and Sequential Art: Principles and Practice of the World’s Most Popular
Art Form. Paramus N.J.: PoorHouse Press, 2006.
Fernández L’Hoeste, Héctor D. “Beyond Just Gender: On the World of Maitena Burundarena.”
International Journal of Comic Art 8.1 (Spring 2006): 346-361.
Groensteen, Thierry. The System of Comics. Trans. Bart Beaty and Nick Nguyen. Jackson, Miss.:
UP of Mississippi, 2007.
McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: Harper, 1993.
Merino, Ana. “Maitena y las transformaciones de las mujeres.” Leer 23/188 (Dec.-Jan. 2007):
178-79.
Morgan, Harry. “Graphic Shorthand: From Caricature to Narratology in Twentieth-Century
Bande dessinée and Comics.” European Comic Art 2.1 (2009): 21-39.
Pérez-Sánchez, Gema. “El humorismo gráfico de Maitena Burundarena: de lo local a lo global;
de los estereotipos a la subversión.” Revista iberoamericana 234 (enero-marzo 2011): 87-
110.
Postema, Barbara. Narrative Structure in Comics: Making Sense of Fragments. Rochester, N.Y.:
RIT P, 2013.
Rohter, Larry. “A Sassy Appraisal of the Sexes.” New York Times 13 March 2004. Web.
Accessed 27 Aug. 2014. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/03/23/arts/sassy-apprai-sal-sexes-
argentine-cartoonist-articulates-women-s-hopes-fears.html
Tomkins, Cynthia. “Las Mujeres alteradas and Superadas de Maitena Burundarena: Feminismo
‘Made in Argentina.’” Latin American Popular Culture 22 (2003): 35-60.
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