FLUXUS: TO GEORGE WITH LOVE
by Jon Hendricks
Fluxus had its antecedents in those enlightened, earlier twentieth-century artists
who wanted to release art from the moribund constraints of formalism. What Dada,
Marcel Duchamp, and some aspects of Futurism and Russian Constructivism had initiated
in diverse ways between 1909 and 1929 was, by the mid-1950s, reigniting a continuing
revolution.
One can point to many sparks and flare-ups in the immediate process leading up
to the beginning of Fluxus in 1961-62. George Maciunas, who shaped and fired Fluxus,
credited John Cage’s invention of concrete music, starting in 1939, which
in turn influenced the European musique concrète movement. Maciunas
further acknowledged Cage’s 1952 intermedia event at Black Mountain College,
North Carolina, with Merce Cunningham, Robert Rauschenberg, M.C. Richards, and
others’ Georges Mathieu’s proto-happening Battle of Bouvines
and his influence on the Japanese Gutai Group; Yves Klein; Joseph Cornell; Ann
Halprin’s “natural activities and tasks”; the French Nouveaux
Réalistes; Ben Vautier’s gestures and concepts; and La Monte Young,
George Brecht, Yoko Ono, Henry Flynt, and the advent of “concept art.”
Initially, George Maciunas laid plans for a movement that would encompass all
aspects of the new wave washing against the foundation of formalist aesthetics.
He developed a program that included concerts of new music and plans for series
of what he called Fluxus “yearboxes” (anthologies of very new art
from many parts of the world) with contributors ranging from Karlheinz Stockhausen
and Allan Kaprow to Pierre Restany and Franz Mon, as well as many who later became
synonymous with the Fluxus movement, notably George Brecht, Robert Filliou, Henry
Flynt, Dick Higgins, Alison Knowles, Yoko Ono, Nam June Paik, Benjamin Patterson,
Daniel Spoerri, Ben Vautier, Wolf Vostell, and La Monte Young. As the year 1962
progressed, with the first series of performances (in Wuppertal, D\üsseldorf,
Paris, Wiesbaden, Amsterdam, London, Copenhagen, and then Paris again), Fluxus
became much more defined. It came to be characterized by direct, short, concrete
pieces, minimal music and actions, conceptual scores and works, and action music.
Many of the action pieces had a double-edged humor; everyday occurrences became
art. The planned contents of the Fluxus yearboxes began reflecting this emerging
character also.
During 1962, Maciunas conceived the idea of publishing some of the scores used
for these concerts as individual Fluxus publications, apart from the Fluxus yearboxes.
He had access to a blueprint machine at his job in Wiesbaden, and proceeded to
draw and type the scores on translucent masters (usually rubber-stamping a Fluxus
copyright), which were then printed as needed either as translucent blueprint
negatives or as positives. The method was basically the same as that used by John
Cage’s publishers, Peters Editions. It was only a short step from publishing
the separate scores to producing a collection of an individual’s work, at
that point called Fluxus editions.
To a large extent, Maciunas retained creative control of Fluxus production, receiving
ideas from artists and, in a unique relationship with them, feeling free to alter
and interpret their works—designing the labels and packaging, even varying
the contents from copy to copy. As an alternative to the mainstream, which Fluxus
was against and which wouldn’t handle these works anyway, Maciunas also
devised a distribution system—through artist-run Flux shops and mail-order
houses inseveral countries, through the Fluxus newspapers and handbills, and through
impromptu exhibitions during concerts and Fluxfests. His production and distribution
activities established a practical outlet for Fluxus ideas that could reach beyond
the restrictive structure of the formal concert hall, making the artists’
work available for independent performance. (“You can do it in the privacy
of your own home”), thereby reaching a potentially much wider and more diverse
audience. And by being cheap, the works made art affordable to almost anyone.
In a way, George Maciunas was the Marinetti or the André Breton of the
Fluxus movement. He knitted it together, shaped the earliest concerts, wrote the
manifestos, and oversaw the publications and editions, through his editing, design,
production, and advertising. But it would be a mistake to think of Fluxus as a
one-man show. Fluxus artists recognized Maciunas’ role but remained fiercely
independent, at times embracing the ideals of the movement and at other times
going their own way. Ultimately, Maciunas’ vision of a collective “united
front” proved impossible to realize except within his production of Fluxus
anthologies, editions, and occasionally in Fluxfests and environments. His frustration
at seeing Fluxus artists maintaining independence from Fluxus was reflected in
his 1975 event in New York entitled fluxfest Presents: 12! Big Names! Posters
were put around town announcing the event and listing twelve famous artists’
names. When the scheduled date arrived, the hall was crowded with people eager
to be in the presence of those famous artists. Then Maciunas simply projected
the names, one at a time, very big, on the screen.
With the death of George Maciunas in 1978, Fluxus ceased—or didn’t
stop, or stopped sometime before, depending on one’s attitude or perception,
of the movement. (personally, I think of art movements as having something like
a nuclear half-life of residual essentialness.) in the case of Fluxus there is
no disputing the continuous, central role of one man. And even though in the end
Fluxus failed in its objective of replacing art with “functionalism”
and only partially succeeded in engaging artists in a collective struggle against
bourgeois aesthetics, nonetheless, its contributions are enormous. Conceptual
art, performance art, political art, mail art, minimalism, artists’ books,
new music, mass-produced art, and even cooperative artists’ housing were
affected by or developed directly from Fluxus. And, at least in Europe, Fluxus
had a major influence on Neo-Expressionism and Arte Povera. We are all richer
for it; and perhaps someday Fluxus will yet lead the way to its elusive goals.
Maya Stendhal Gallery
545 W. 20th St. New York, NY 10011
www.mayastendhalgallery.com
tel: (212) 366.1549
fax: (347) 287.6775
email: gallery@mayastendhalgallery.com
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