On Festival of Fantastics

by Geoffrey Hendricks

The beginnings of the Festival of Fantastics I suspect were in Wiesbaden in 1982 at the 20th anniversary exhibition and Fluxfest, 1962 Wiesbaden Fluxus 1982. We were all there performing and playing together and it was Marianne Bech’s first serious encounter with the group. She was introduced to us all by Eric Andersen, and as the dream of Eric and Marianne germinated they spoke of how the Wiesbaden event was what the Roskilde festivities were not going to be. The two of them were conceiving a much more multifaceted, collectively interactive gathering of members of the Fluxus family, and in its realization it certainly lived up to what they had been dreaming in every way.
     First let me talk about the exhibition at Galleri Sct. Agnes, of my installation there, and the development of my performance pieces, From the Sea and Sky Music/for Dick, then my eventful departure and finally my vivid memories of what others did there in Roskilde that spring of 1985. In the course of my narrative I will try to answer questions posed by Marianne Bech and also put these pieces in context with other work that I have done.
     I think Bent Petersen met me at the airport. I remember him giving me a copy of North magazine very soon after I arrived,  (he may have picked up freshly printed copies on route) and of being taken to the Hotel Prindsen, a wonderful old white building centrally located where we all stayed, perhaps meeting Marianne there though I think she may have also been at the airport, and of seeing Eric and others. It felt like a family reunion. Then I was taken to Galleri Sct. Agnes, where I met Valborg Norby, the director, left off the work that I had brought with me and was introduced perhaps to Ulla and Dina who worked with Valborg and Eva who played a big role in the organization of the festival.

The exhibitions
The exhibition in Galleri Sct. Agnes had work from some of us, though I’m not sure all of us, for other work was in the stable over near the Palace. Ben Vautier had the room next to mine and he had spray-painted words on all the walls. In my installation I had two ladders, one with day skies (one-sided) leaning in the corner to the right of the door leading into Ben’s space and another with two-sided watercolors of night skies hanging from the ceiling near the window.  The gallery located the two ladders for me. I recall visiting a family who had a ladder in a garden shed and another who had one behind a house.  After I got the ladders to the gallery I attached watercolors that I had brought with me, and changed the ladders in other ways such as wrapping the bottom of each side of the day ladder with strips of white cloth. Is it possible that at least one of those ladders is still in Roskilde? Could I have given one to Valborg with the skies, or were they simply returned after the exhibition and the watercolors sent back to me when the show was over?
     On the walls I had a number of my Berliner Tagsbuch watercolors that I had done in 1983 when I was in Berlin on a DAAD Berlin Artists program grant.  I would grid a sheet of heavy Arches watercolor paper into eight panels with a colored pencil, which functioned as a slight resist and with care kept the color from going from one panel to the next.  The panels would be painted sequentially so that I recorded how the sky was changing over a specific period of time, noting date and time on the back. In this series I began working with night skies as well as day skies. My Sky Boots from 1965 were in a niche in the room. They were the first objects I painted totally with sky, and I liked the way they became an image that melds earth and sky with the individual.
     I had tributes to George Brecht and George Maciunas. I gathered stones in the courtyard to use in a small installation piece, 100 Stones for George Maciunas. George had wanted people to send him 100 stones from strange places around the world for the fabrication of the Flux Atlas. And I brought a Flux Wedding Album that Brian Buczak and I had produced for George Maciunas and Billie Hutching’s Flux Wedding, February 25, 1978, in which I was Flux Minister. Honghee and Hoseon Cheon, who was South Korean Cultural attaché, bought these last two pieces as well as another watercolor that I painted for them. For the exhibition I had also brought George Brecht’s bowler hat that I bought at the auction of his belongings before he went off to Europe, where Al Hansen was auctioneer. I arrived wearing a black felt hat I had bought at a flea market in Berlin in 1983. At one point Ben Vautier accidentally stepped on this Berlin hat. To make amends, he wrote a sign for it saying, “I stamped on this hat and yet it still fits Jeoff Hendricks perfectly. Result: Ben’s got no effect on Jeoff head. Ben.” So this hat with Ben’s text then joined the Brecht bowler and became a two-hat installation. I have another story of a Brecht bowler hat in conjunction with my installation for the 1970 Happening & Fluxus exhibition in Cologne, but will save that for another time. In addition to the 100 Stones for George Maciunas, which I think are the black and white stones Marianne Bech remembers helping me collect in the courtyard, I also had some larger stones as installation near the hanging night sky ladder.
     For my exhibition at the DAAD gallery in Berlin in 1983 I had 4 tall ladders with watercolors of sky. Two of these ladders are in the collection of the Nordjyllands Kunstmuseum, Aalborg, along with two large triptychs Sky to the East and Sky to the West. The first ladder I did was perhaps my Ladder Garden, 1963-64, a stepladder with a spectral progression on the steps that were filled with a spectral progression of artificial flowers and a gray scale up the back. At the top there was some sky. That sky, and the sky on the upper part of Landscape Chair, 1964, was in anticipation of my painting sky on objects that began with the Sky Boots, where sky was freed from earth, other than what earth might be implied in the object.  Marianne remembers a bucket. I don’t recall whether this would have been hanging or on the floor. Over the last decade I have used old buckets rusted out on the bottom in a number of pieces. I have attached two-sided watercolors of the phases of the moon to each end of a cord that went through a pulley tied to the handle, so that the skies could move up and down under the hanging bucket. Watercolors of a great variety of skies used in combination with ladders, chairs, roof slates, rulers, scales, buckets and other objects have been major components in my exhibitions over the last few decades. I don’t recall having given a title to the exhibition at Galleri Sct. Agnes, though perhaps I did.
     In the old royal stables that had been turned into a gallery Sarenco’s Porto-Fluxus was on exhibit downstairs. My contribution for that project Sarenco had failed to produce in the way I had specified, so that I had to adjust what was there in the exhibition the best I could. I had provided Sarenco with a prototype that I had fortunately photographed in the Verona railroad station before delivering it to him, giving me a record of how I had made it.  That piece should have had images of sky from photographs that I had provided on slides, drawings of sky that I had done and sky/anatomy drawing/collages that I had made. These were to all be the same size and could be combined in any arrangement in four clear plastic pockets that were pinned to the muslin panel like a window. Underneath them there was a muslin pocket to hold the material not on view in the windows. The original title for the portfolio was to have been “Flux Commandments,” and the commandment I chose was “Change!” which I had on a tag in English and Italian, hanging from a safety pin. Sarenco had printed only some of my collaged drawings, I suppose keeping the rest for some other use, and had printed the photographs in the wrong size. I was really angry.
     Upstairs at the gallery/stable I remember a beautiful installation of Alison Knowles spread out on the floor or on a low table. And there was of course much more work. There were a good number of pieces from all of us in those two spaces. Emmett Williams had one of his beautiful photo collages, “Portraits of Fluxus Artist as Hors d’Oeuvre Art.” That I remember because Bob Watts bought it, and had shown it to me as we were going to the airport together. He was so pleased that he had been able to buy it from Emmett.

My performance From the Sea
Although on arriving in Roskilde I knew essentially what I wanted to do for my performance, From the Sea, I was also aware that the site would determine many aspects of the piece. A work always evolves in the course of bringing it together.  Eric arranged one trip out across the harbor to Hillerød, where we went to investigate an old wreck of a barge as a possible location to stage the piece. It was interesting, but in water too shallow for a boat to approach. I looked at the buoys in the harbor as possible supports for text. I thought a lot about the piece as journey. Then the fantastic boat Skjelskør was located. Perfect. And the wharf of Risø, the energy research center, was available as a destination and everything came together.
     In thinking about what I would do, right from the beginning I imagined it as a piece that would involve boats, a destination and activities taking place at that destination. I was seeing a journey to an island, with performance on the boats crossing Roskilde harbor, as well as on the island. The activities on the boats and island should be simple but must be tight in structure and image. Horns could call back and forth between the boats as they are crossing. I wondered whether the piece in some way evoked the Embarkation for Cythera.
     I imagined having performers in the front of each boat carrying out a slow progression of activities like the figureheads on the prow of a ship, activities such as wrapping and tying, bicycling with flowers on feet, cutting and tying a chair, tying the cut chair with trees to the prow. Sounds would be made back and forth between the boats. Then on shore the parts that were visible in each ship would come together as a whole. Some of this becomes transposed into what took place on the Risø wharf.
     I thought about text, a list of questions, mythology and metaphor. Should I write a small story to be handed out, or make a series of drawings and collages as a kind of score?
     I imagined activities of performers on the boat, but then on the land the audience could go in search of stones, flowers and leaves. They could create a trail, possibly leaving a string to mark their path as they headed out in a kind of island exploration. Should there be loud sounds to bring people together?  Should we have fireworks or a fire? In order to become clear about what I was going to do I knew that I must first find the location and the boat or boats, and also meet with those who would help.
Other early thoughts from my journal:
Have someone on the wharf engaged in small formal activity as people are boarding the boat. On board have people wrapping objects and each other enveloped in sky from projected slides. Make a drawing on the ground like a gaming board.
For the arrival at the old boat, do I swim over to it? Or go across a gangplank?
Once there, I would begin activation of two people who would already be there, as if they had slept for twenty years. We could wrestle. Chase each other. Move through space.
There could be buoys with red flags, or messages and letters; or we could toss buoys into the water with words or images. Or should we tie flowers to the buoys? Each buoy should have a special top.
     On board sound might come up from trap doors, made with large timbers, or metal sheets, rocks, blocks, and bells. Horns could call back and forth. Green leaves and branches could emerge from somewhere. A banner could extend from the prow.
Cycling with flowers on feet. Rolling wheels. Prow figures.
Figure at prow with bicycle wheel held with arms outstretched, or between feet.
We three would board ship and slow trip back with sounds from all performers.
We don’t talk with anyone or answer questions from anyone on the boat.
     Should I get some birds (carrier pigeons) to carry a message somewhere?
     The process of crawling is certainly a good activity.
     Must remember it will be cold in the water.
     I think about how in the small loading area on the boat I could have a performance like “Trunk” that I did a few years earlier for Charlotte Moorman’s Avant Garde Festival on the Passenger Ship Terminal pier in New York City. Could the space underneath be opened and entered at end of performance on returning to the wharf, when a person covered with flowers goes there. Perhaps Eva could be like Persephone entering the underworld. She has a Primavera quality. She could be covered with flowers and some earth and I could be covered with leaves and blue. She could go to one of the bunks onto a bed of flowers with the door remaining open so people see her and I would go above onto the deck. We would be the mythical Sky/Earth. These are thoughts I was having and in various ways they inform what was finally done.

At one point in my journal I wrote:  “Fluxus is a drop of water.”
I wrote this down in a mindless way, but now I recall George Maciunas showing me a homemade slide with a little tube into the space between two pieces of glass that he had in his projector. With an eyedropper he put water in the space and was totally amused watching the microscopic creatures wiggling around and remarked how it was all one needed for a movie, a minimalist movie. So Fluxus is a drop of water.

Discovering the ship Skjelskør – København - the piece comes into focus, it is the perfect boat for the trip. With pictures of the old King and Queen in the dining area, it has the feeling of an earlier time. The journey is the performance.  I meet the Captain, Niels Borserup, and am shown around the ship. It will hold up to 100 passengers and 24 may eat at one time. We must serve Flux food. The hold could be used for supplies, but also as an entrance, and the fore cabin has two bunks. There is a toilet and small washbasin that could be for a flux-event. The upper deck is open. The lower deck is covered. It has a whistle, boiler room and coal fired engine. There is the captain and a crew of two. It has no galley/kitchen so all the food must be prepared before. We must plan different meals and different servings. Should there be one seating each way, or can we have two so that everyone has a chance to try some Flux food?
     Niels Bundgaard, Director of Risø is contacted and one day I am driven around to their wharf where I am able to see the space and figure out what should take place there.
There could be activities on the wharf in Roskilde while waiting for the departure and activities for the half-hour journey on the steamer. Then when the Skjelskør arrives at the Risø pier the audience will watch the performance on the two decks of the steamer since they cannot disembark.
     I talked with Alison and Bob about Flux foods. Alison suggested a large loaf of bread or Hala’s pâté penis. We also discussed the idea of a red meal, or red and white for Denmark. Bob Watts suggested making a Boat Cake. That could be good, and with pound cake easy to fabricate. Other thoughts are my 10 flavors of mashed potatoes, Dick’s clear flavorless gelatin and Alison’s shit stew. We could have a rainbow meal with beets, carrots, lemon custard, lime Jell-O, green beans/peas, deep green greens, blueberries and red cabbage for purple. Also black food and white food. A checkerboard of bologna and cheese, with slices of round salami for checkers was made.
     We must make a long banner for the side of the Skjelskør saying:
     I wonder about the time of the sunset and the moonrise. The piece is about the sun and the moon, as well as fire and water and the journey. The journey itself is a performance. Metaphorically we’re going to George on the other shore.
     The idea of a Fluxship George Maciunas came to me first for some performances that Alison Knowles, Takako Saito and I were planning for Galerie Baecker in Bochum on June 25, 1978. George had just died the month before and this seemed like a beautiful way to commemorate him. An inflatable rubber boat was found for me. I filled it with water and wearing a sailor’s hat and shirt, became the Flux Navy. I made a questionnaire for people to fill out about crossing to the other shore.
     Then as we were planning the Flux-concert that we had at the Kitchen in New York on March 24, 1979, our first project in New York after George’s death and the Flux Funeral. It also seemed important to again have a Flux Navy to reach George Maciunas who was now on the other shore of life. It was for this concert that I also made the memorial newspaper, a V TRE Extra. That project was my concept, I was the publisher, and Sara Seagull worked with me on the design and layout, with great contributions from everyone.
     I was the Flux Navy again for the opening of the 1962 Wiesbaden Fluxus 1982 exhibition and concert at the Museum Wiesbaden. It is there that Marianne Bech saw me perform in the museum entrance hall. There were many other realizations later with my traveling exhibition Day into Night, (in Pori, Finland I had a whole fleet of boats), and at the Seoul of Fluxus exhibition in Korea.
     Can I score whistle sounds, or have Philip make whistle music?  Yes, I should have Phil score the sound and Bob help me score the food, with Eva, Susanne and others to help make the food. Eric and Philip should both help wrap me with branches.
     People for the performance: Eric Andersen, Philip Corner and Bob Watts. Jeppe, the young assistant and Susanne, with dark hair in gallery, were both very involved with the preparation of the FluxFood. Eva wanted to stay free for organizing. The day before the voyage we gathered at Susanne’s house to prepare the food. Susanne, Jeppe and others were all energetically bringing the different dishes together, and making the cake in the shape of the Skjelskør. I gave advice but they had everything well under control so there was very little that I could do.
     On the trip over on the Skjelskør Bob Watts, Marianne, Jeppe and Susanne, served Flux Food in the Dining Room. Rainbow cards were made and Bob Watts handed them out to people in order to determine places at each serving. I believe Eric and Phil were engaged with sound and other activities on the deck, and I was on the Risø wharf  under a sheet waiting for the boat to arrive.

Performance on the Risø wharf
Eric and Phil come onto the platform. Some other people also come off the boat, but most watch from the two decks of the Skjelskør. I emerge out from under sheets, naked and draw a pail of water from the sea that I pour over my body. I pour dirt onto my feet and tie flowers to them and then raising them into the air “bicycle” while Philip turns a bicycle wheel above me. I strain water onto my head and pour water through funnels standing high on a square stool. Do I make a small fire? Philip and Eric had been engaged earlier in simple activities measuring of the space in front of the boat with a stretched rope and rolling wheels back and forth, then Philip begins to cut the chair with a saw, performing it as though it were a musical instrument. When the chair is cut the parts are reversed and joined back together again with branches. Was Eva covered with flowers? Did Phil & Eric wrestle on the wharf?  After completing various elemental activities I go to the area near the ship and with the help of Eric cover myself with blue makeup onto my head, torso and body. Then again with the help of Eric tie branches, tall grass and yellow flowers all around my body and Eric ties me to the mast for the return journey back to the Roskilde dock. As the boat was traversing the harbor people could see the full moon rising in the east and the orange sun setting in the west. It was a magical moment. When we landed, Eric helped me off the boat and accompanied me up through the yellow field of rape, below the cathedral and on to Gallerei Sct. Agnes where I left my wrappings in the courtyard, got cleaned up and dressed, and then joined the others for dinner, feeling very exhilarated from the whole performance.
     The antecedents for From the Sea are many. The concept of journey, and interaction with nature and the cycles of nature pervade my work. Examples include Between Two Points, three meditative rituals that I did in 1974 on a mountaintop in Norway for the summer solstice, for a full moon in Asolo, Italy and then on a beach below Venice with the sun; and later that year a three-day piece for the Autumnal equinox in the Clocktower in New York. My performance Two Beds for the 1982 Wiesbaden Fluxus celebration, 1975 performances in Rome where I emerge out from under a sheet and engage in transformative actions of myself and with a chair, and in Munich where I lived for three days in the Kunstverein, a bed where I slept, branches, earth, rocks, water and other materials that I worked with during the time I was there.

The Lynghøjskolens Brassband performance
Eric told us that he had arranged for a brass band of young musicians to perform in the square in front of the Town Hall, and asked us for scores. What I composed was:

Instructions to the brass band

You are a group. Work to think together. Listen to each other.
For about the first minute search out your highest range.
For the second minute let these sounds come together in rich harmonies.
If you have an instrument with a low range try to let the sound of a higher instrument be an overtone of the sound you’re making. Then in the third minute gradually give way to the highest tones and let that part of the group move on up to the sky, to which you should all be looking.

     Note: A decade earlier Dick Higgins had composed a work dedicated to me:
     Clouds for Piano, for Geoffrey Hendricks, Cloudsmith, 1974.
The first performance of that work was by Paul Hoffman at the Kitchen in New York sometime that same year. My piece was in part a response to Dick’s score, and the two became a kind of musical sky exchange.
     Later the piece became referred to as Tone for Roskilde. It was a score that Philip Corner performed with groups of musicians on various occasions, and on at least one occasion it became Tone for Asolo. I also included it in performances, including the opening of my exhibition Day into Night in Warsaw in 1994, and for a performance at the exhibition Fluxus East in Budapest this year. In those two instances two-sided day sky watercolors were raised up toward the ceiling while a musician with a wind instrument moved toward the highest note possible while looking at the sky being raised. It was also to have been the final work, with the musicians going outdoors, for our realization of Dick Higgins’ The Thousand Symphonies, arranged and conducted by Philip Corner at Douglass College, Rutgers University in conjunction with my exhibition Critical Mass, Happenings, Fluxus, Performance, Intermedia and Rutgers University, 1958 –1972, in September 2003.

Hotel Prindsen, an old white building, is in the center of historic Roskilde and close to all the places where we were performing and to the exhibitions that had been organized. There were tables in front of the hotel where we gathered to talk, drink and plan events at all times of day. And when we were having breakfast or dinner inside. One evening Hong-Hee Cheon and her husband had a great Korean feast for all of us in the dining room. On another occasion we performed Bob Watts’ Two Inches, in front of the hotel, stretching the tape across the street and stopping traffic while the tape was being cut.

     One time a sightseeing bus was arranged for us so we could see Roskilde and environs. I think this was early in our stay to enable us to become better acquainted with the area in case there were places where we might want to do things. It was as if the whole city were at our disposal.
     Places and events in Roskilde that linger in my memory include the Viking Ship Museum, where I discovered more of the history of my ancestors, the Vikings, through a map of their explorations and expeditions. I learned about their extensive travels down the Volga River to Istanbul/ Constantinople and their control of Ile de Cité, Paris and Brittany and Normandy. It was interesting to see the ships that were sunk in the harbor to block it, bringing back memories of seeing Viking ships in Norway. Several North-west Coast Indians were there carving a dugout canoe, and there were replicas of Viking ships that they sailed. It was an active living museum. One evening we walked in single file with paper bags over our heads from the hotel to the Viking museum for I believe Alison’s performances that took place inside.

     I have a profound memory of Phil Corner’s performance in a small concert hall of Democracy in Action where he plays what ever he wants and periodically stops to have a vote to see if he should keep playing. The score might have been a little different than this. But the most vivid memory of this event was a realization of what a fantastic musician and pianist Philip was. I was deeply impressed and delighted to have him keep playing. Then we were all down in the street and pushing a piano somewhere or perhaps simply performing Philip’s Piano Activities

     Ben Vautier had requested a big double bed to have in the central square. He lettered a sign, in a bed, to go over it, and then invited beautiful young women to join him in bed. It was generally there by the city hall, but one day we carried the bed with Ben in it into the courtyard of Galleri Sct. Agnes and then all piled onto it with Ben. Tut Køepke, the great grand dame of Fluxus, was also there with us. That courtyard was a place we enjoyed gathering.

     One of the most memorable events of the festival was Bob Watts’ performance of his score Trace for Orchestra. Eric or Marianne had arranged for a group of young musicians, the high school orchestra or band, the performance was in the High School gymnasium/auditorium. The musicians wore their uniforms and Bob was in a gaudy tuxedo. They were lined up across the stage with their instruments and a piece of flash paper for score. The lights went out. The rich red curtain went up and in nearly total darkness Bob with one of those tubes that glow conducted the group. He raised his baton, and as he brought it down the musicians struck matches and lit the flash paper. In an instant it was over and the curtain went down.  It was fantastic. Bob had been reluctant to come to Roskilde and I believe Eric and Marianne had to arrange for a first class ticket to get Bob there. He arrived later than the rest of us, but that moment was absolutely worth it. It was so short and so wonderful. While people were gathering for the performance, Hannah Higgins was a gypsy fortuneteller in a caravan there in the gymnasium space performing another work of Bob’s. I remember Bob being a fortuneteller at the Avant Garde Festival in Central Park in 1966.
     Eric had made a long blue costume designed to hold a great many people, and I recall one day a group of us got into it and walked through the central square and down the street and at some point we climbed up the extension ladder of a fire engine. Another piece of Eric’s was a moving wall of cement blocks. He had a great quantity of concrete blocks delivered to the center of the pedestrian street that constantly kept getting reconfigured and moved up or down the street as the people worked with them. Another piece of Eric’s that I enjoyed was his receiving people, one at a time, in the small chapel in the park behind the palace to get their last wish that he would realize for them. At some point in the exchange of ideas that went on there in Roskilde, Eric and I decided Ben must do a Flux Suicide in three months, since we have never had one. It grew out of conversations we had with Ben about suicide, and probably also talking of the Flux Divorce of Nye and me, the Flux Wedding of George and Billie, and the Flux-Funeral for George. It is something that clearly didn’t happened.
     My departure from Roskilde was a memorable experience. I think it was possibly on the ride back on the Skjelskør after my performance on the Risø wharf, though it might have been another time that Knud Pedersen told me of a project he had organized at the airport, a portrait project, where there were two young artists each day who would paint your portrait. One would go to Knud’s art lending library and the other would go to the sitter. In order to have something different he wondered if I would be willing to pose nude for the two young painters? Sure, why not. So Knud took Bob Watts and me to the airport. Bob had an earlier flight and sat for his portrait first. He picked the one he wanted, and went on his way to catch his plane. Then it was my turn. But waiting there in the airport Knud brought reporters over from the local tabloid newspaper, and they were wondering if they could photograph me while I was posing. It suddenly got my hackles up, I was feeling I had been misled and rather than having a fair exchange, a turn around for the art students where the teacher becomes the model. I was to be a little tabloid sensation. I said “no.” An interview was fine, but I wasn’t going to be that tabloid photo. Knud said, “okay.” I went up to the studio area, a kind of upper lounge area above the main waiting hall, took off my clothes and posed for the two young painters/art students. When they were finished I asked Knud if I could have both so there wasn’t one there to appear on the front page of BT. He was fine about this and both are still here with me in New York. Some day I should have a show of paintings of me, for there are others, including the frequently reproduced portrait that Alice Neel did of Brian and me.
     At our press conference in Roskilde for the Festival of Fantastics Ben Vautier made the comment “Geoff Hendricks nude is not Fluxus.” But then this was a not a Fluxus Festival, but a Festival of Fantastics. There are many things I haven’t spoken of, Anne Tardos & Jackson Mac Low performing Gathas and other pieces. There I noticed Knud Petersen having his photographer photograph Phil Corner sleeping through Jackson’s performance for Ezra Pound. In my journal I wrote “Naughty Knud Petersen “. And the list could go on, so many events and place I haven’t even mentioned.
     It is now twenty-three years later that I am trying to reconstruct these from memory, with the help of photographs and journal notes what took place during those extraordinary days. If others who participated, or were there among the audience have different recollections from what I have written here about something let me know. This is a collective history that is being built, and memories are fallible.

Unconnected memories of others who were there
Eva’s husband Henrik who has Edition Out of Hand, told me that once he put an ad in a Copenhagen paper about an event that took place the previous day together with a phone number. Mogens Otto Nielsen was the only one who responded to the piece, and they became good friends. Henrik has published two books of Mogens.
     Lars Morell, a philosopher and art critic from Aarhus was there and we had some wonderful conversations. My brother Jon had talked with him earlier, and he spoke of how he enjoyed meeting Jon very much. I met him with Henning Christiansen’s wife, Ursula, and Ursula Block.
     Henry Martin and Berty Skuber were there, dear friends. Berty took fantastic photographs of the pieces including some iconic images of me tied to the mast returning from the performance at the Risø wharf. Their son Johnny and Garry Williams, the son of Emmett and Ann, became great friends and reflected the Flux-family spirit of the gathering.