My friend Reuben shot this video about five years ago in Liverpool, I just happened to find it after repairing an old broken hard drive. The dancing bear man was a Liverpool institution, and I hear he’s passed away, so the video is a bit sad. One commenter on YouTube said, “this is literally the most beautiful video i have ever seen.” Enjoy.
I used to watch this series occasionally on PBS with my Dad when I was little and it made a weirdly huge impression on my little mind. Super excited that they’re online!
“Exhibitions that are mounted in Berlin always face enormous problems of transportation: not only must works of art be flown into the city, also critics and visitors from West Germany experience difficulty in reaching Berlin. The ‘Fernseh-Galerie’, serving as a fictitious exhibition space, will bring together information and opinions from various places concerning a particular artistic theme … The art objects will not be presented in the static, isolated context in which art is customarily obliged to manifest itself … While the process of realization was still underway, critics introduced the projects to the public.”
“The exhibition does not prresent final projects, but processes of making art … during which the wishes of consumer of art come into play in a sort of feedback operation.”
From the original draft of Gerry Schum’s plan for the Fernseh Galerie, c. 1968, reprinted in Dorine Mignot, “Gerry Schum – a pioneer”, Gerry Schum, Amsterdam: Stedelijk Museum, 1979. p. 67.
“The transmission of art exhibitions by television is the beginning of an era when the public will be taught to appreciate great works of art, seeing them in their homes and at the same time that the finer points are demonstrated by an expert lecturer – in other words illustrated talks.”
…
“Animals, trick-cycling balancing acts, roller skating… are useful for the light entertainment programme of the future as being the means by which the ear will be relieved of the intolerable strain of concentration by the eye.”
Since the announcement of the Rose Museum’s closure, I’ve been thinking a lot about art collections, and how they are all really a story of the collector – whether it’s an institution or a person. When collections are disbanded, that story is lost, even if the works survive.
Jennifer Teets pointed me towards Gustave Moreau:
When the artist Gustave Moreau died in 1898, he bequeathed his three-story house, containing more than 1,200 paintings and 12,800 drawings, to the French state. His only wish was that the collection be kept together forever. “Taken as a whole,” he stated, “they give an idea of what kind of an artist I was, and in what kind of surroundings I chose to live my dreams.”
Social sculpture for frustrated holiday travelers:
On a flight from Washington D.C. to Los Angeles in 1968, American artist Ed Kienholz (1927-1994) reluctantly checked-in an ornate, well packed Tiffany lamp and lampshade he and his wife, Lyn, had received as a gift. He had planned on carrying the items on board, but the airline insisted that it be checked-in. Kienholz was so concerned about the handling of the items that he had the airline insure the package before takeoff. Upon arrival to LAX, Kienholz discovered the lampshade shattered and irreparably damaged… After having the lampshade appraised, Kienholz submitted a formal reimbursement claim with TWA, only to have the airline refuse payment and accuse him of fraudulently packing a broken item in the hopes of recovering a cash settlement.
Kienholz … returned to LAX with a typewritten letter, a photographer, and an ax. 5 Kienholz’s letter bluntly stated: “Good morning, my name is Ed Kienholz…you broke my lampshade and I’m really unhappy…so I’m going to cause TWA an equal amount of damage. I’m going to destroy a desk for TWA.” 6 This is exactly what Kienholz proceeded to do; he destroyed the desk and, somehow, made it back to his car before being apprehended by the Los Angeles Police Department.