exhibition catalogues

Henri Matisse | MoMA

Henri Matisse—the second-most exhibited artist at the museum after Pablo Picasso—was the subject of MoMA’s first monographic exhibition. This 1931 show, the most comprehensive presentation of the artist’s work to be held in the United States to date, included a sweeping assortment of paintings, sculptures, drawings, and prints spanning from the artist’s student years to his most recent work. The catalogue included a 1908 essay by Matisse in which the artist explained his process of constant artistic growth, a passage that still rang true in 1931: “I do not repudiate any of my paintings but I would not paint one of them in the same way had I to do it again. My destination is always the same but I work out a different route to get there.” Read the out-of-print exhibition catalogue, see installation views, and more via our online exhibition history.

(via Henri Matisse | MoMA)

2

Joan of Arc’s Ring, 15th Century AD

The ring is unusual for its type in having text rather than an image of saints on its faceted bezel. It matches the description Joan gave at her trial of the ring given to her by her parents, and is inscribed ‘I M’ for ‘Jesus Maria’. This ring sold at auction for £297,600.00.

The ring’s connection to St. Joan, who was burnt at the stake in 1431 for heresy, has been documented for over a century, and was published by F.A. Harman Oates in his privately printed catalogue of 1917. It was kept in an oak reliquary casket and was sold with a book of excerpts from national newspapers in Britain and France, as well as research notes compiled by Cyril Bunt in the 1940s, the BBC features on the ring and exhibition catalogues.

This week’s #tbt looks back at a major exhibition of works by celebrated African American artist Romare Bearden, which opened at MoMA in 1971. It grew, in part, out of demands made by the Art Workers Coalition (AWC), an activist organization that advocated for New York City museums to improve their ethical relationship to artists and to the public. They argued that museums should improve public access by waiving admission fees and implement more inclusive exhibition policies to encourage shows by women and minorities. In 1969, the AWC submitted a list of demands to MoMA, including that a “section of the Museum, under the direction of black artists, should be devoted to showing the accomplishments of black artists.” MoMA’s Board of Trustees recommended that the institution embrace a more inclusive approach to collecting, exhibiting, and public programming, and the Bearden exhibition was one of the first outcomes of this recommendation. See images of the installation, read the out-of-print exhibition catalogue, and more. 22 of #52exhibitions

[Romare Bearden. The Dove. 1964. Cut-and-pasted printed paper, gouache, pencil, and colored pencil on board. Blanchette Hooker Rockefeller Fund. Photo: Thomas Griesel]

ZING art collective, first Exhibition. Catalogue text, by Joe Hedges
  • Catalogue text, by Joe Hedges.

On December 3rd, 2016 Menagerie gallery in Redwood City will host the first public endeavor of Zing, a group of contemporary asian artists living in the Bay area. The Zing collaborative includes artists working across various media including painting, sculpture, photography, and video and addressing a wide range of subjects.  For this inaugural exhibition, audiences are implicitly asked to consider the works in the context of both contemporary art and the Asian experience in the United States.  

Now it must be said: I am neither young nor asian.  My allegiance is to contemporary art.  However, in the current political climate one would be challenged to avoid viewing the show through the lens of identity.  Our challenge as viewers is to accept both the fact that contemporary art is a language that cuts across class and ethnic lines to celebrate individual perspectives, as well as the uniqueness of the Asian-American migrant experience.  In the Zing exhibition, this tension between the universality of contemporary art and the uniqueness of the Asian experience of the United States is most apparent in the figurative works of Shi Feng and Rentian Qiu.  

  • Shi Feng, “Mist“, Oil on Canvas.

Shi Feng’s work Mist is portrait of a nude, seemingly asian woman crouched on the floor, buttocks to the viewer, twisting her torso and revealing her face with hands and feet curled into some unseen ground.  Formally, every aspect of the painting is strong, with an intimate knowledge of human anatomy and keen observational skills on display.  But while the title Mist draws our attention to the limited range of values and beautifully-handled atmosphere, try as they might, contemporary figurative painters have not yet transcended the double-edged project of objectifying their subjects.  Here we are reminded that an Asian-American experience is at once conflated with ideas about race, and that ideas about race deal necessarily with the body.  For what is a body if not the place where our differences are most superficially on display?  In viewing Shi Feng’s paintings that often feature asian subjects, the viewer reconciles thoughts about race, flesh gender, while necessarily and simultaneously stripping the body of all labels but human.

Shi Feng’s second painting in the exhibition provides a strong conceptual counterbalance.  In Bath, a man stands in tall grass wearing nothing but an oversized sweater.  He lifts the sweater in order to gaze downward at his own genitalia as a tiger—a familiar symbol of Asia—looms toward him in the background.  Here Feng again asks the viewer to consider ideas about flesh and identity, leaving it to the viewer to consider the symbolism of the predatory beast.

  • Shi Feng, “Bath”, Oil on Canvas.

In another dark composition about identity, Ethan Zhao’s arrestingly slick film Samsara utilizes VFX-compositing to place disparate imagery into the same surreal black and white world.  An electronic Radiohead-esque soundscape helps to set a brooding mood as a single masked figure slow-motion dances around chiaroscuro asteroids and foggy trees.  As the character’s mask multiplies and floats around him, the mask’s function of obscuring one’s true face is at once on display and subverted.  In a video piece by Yanling He, again the viewer is invited into another world where identity is obscured: figures frozen in water droplets, soundscape blending the digital and organic, extending the moments between drips from a leaky facet.  

  • Ethan Zhao, “Samsara”, Film.
  • Yanling He, “Refraction”, Film.

Continuing with the theme of identity and the body, artist Rentian Qui’s four figurative watercolors feature women in intentionally provocative, compromising or disturbing poses.  The subject of Tease is a woman in her underwear lying on a bed or couch, legs crossed in the air and touching the underside of her thigh.  Dark pubic hair escapes from her red underwear.  This painting evokes the work of the famous Viennese artist of the 20th early century, Egon Schiele.  Like Schiele’s works, Qui’s figures have a somewhat geometric and expressive quality while the background remains relatively stark.  Here we would be remiss not to acknowledge the impact of asian prints on the work of Schiele and his contemporaries: the use of negative space, a limited pallet, the twisting strangeness of the bodies.  Formally, Qui’s works operate in a zone that can be seen as bridging cultural divides of east and west.  While all Qui’s works implicate the “male gaze” of the viewer (and artist), Qui manages to do so sensitively with the inclusion of additional compositions that take on ideas about the body in more nuanced and critical ways.

An international traveler might recognize that the subject of another work by Qui, Peeing, is a woman crouched on a western-style toilet.  Her backside to the viewer, face turned away, the scene contains at once the mundanity of a genre painting and the force of a social commentary.  Art history buffs will recall that Marcel Duchamp famously signed a urinal with the words “R. MUTT”, and titled it Fountain, as a commentary, exclamation point or full stop on what can and cannot be art.  As it turns out, it is not only ideas about contemporary art that are socially constructed: ideas about a seemingly simple act of urination are relativistic as well, and for this Asian-American artist, the picture plane remains a suitable battle ground within which to assert quotidian contrasts.  For many individuals residing in or immigrating from asian countries, sitting on a toilet chair—rather than crouching over a floor toilet—is rightfully considered unsanitary and unhealthy.  In viewing Peeing, the viewer may extrapolate an endless list of daily challenges immigrants encounter, as an object as seemingly familiar as a toilet becomes a container for struggle and difference.

  • Rentian Qiu, “Tease”, Mix-Media.
  • Rentian Qiu, “Peeing”, Mix-Media.

American and European art history textbook favorites like Schiele and Duchamp have had the luxury of being simply called artists—not having additional suffixes forced upon them.  By contrast, minorities and women have faced a particular challenge when attempting to enter the world of contemporary art: they have often found themselves unable to avoid the labels of “black artist”, “asian artist”, “female artist” etc.  Unfortunately, these labels have historically been read like caveats, putting artists in the position of asserting their seriousness in the best way they know how—by directly addressing their heritage or gender or some other aspect of their identity in their art.  For minorities today, a refusal to explicitly take on the subject of identity in one’s work has itself become a form of postmodern subversion.

Working in a non-representational mode are Dongze Huo, Shi Dong, and Hung Ying Lee.  These three pieces exist in the tradition of western modernism but each contain traces of asian aesthetics.  For the first of these three artists, Dongze Huo, Escape contains muted negative space that subtly echoes asian landscape painting.  At the same time the work also recalls the color-blocks of Hans Hoffman and other American Abstract Expressionists.  Here one finds a certain quietude in contrast with vibrancy, that could be read as the contemplative history of Asian aesthetics meeting the so called “pure abstraction” of painters in 1950’s New York City.  But while abstraction has appeared in essentially every culture known to human beings, it is often mistakenly presented as an invention of Picasso, who it is well known was largely inspired by African masks.  Here Dongze Huo covertly participates in the project of returning abstraction to its rightful conception: a language that reduces color and form to spiritual elements that speak about the universal human condition.  

  • Dongze Huo, “Escape“, Silk-Screen on BFK Paper.

Secondly, Shi Dong’s abstract work Soul Comb is a blue color field upon which square dots are presented in a grid.  The grid is a modernist tool that’s been employed in near infinite iterations, from Piet Mondrian and continuing up through Damien Hirst’s contemporary multi-colored spot painting installations.  But in the hands of Shi Dong one might also consider the history of the grid in an asian context.  Unlike phonetic languages, the Chinese language can exist in a neatly ordered grid, legible from left to right or top to bottom.  In this reading Dong’s multicolored squares suggest a more semantic meaning.  Is the language of color ideographic?

  • Shi Dong, “Soul Comb ®”, Oil on Wood Panel.

The third artists working in a nonrepresentational mode is Hung Ying Lee.  Lee’s modestly-sized abstract paintings I Can’t Avoid the Wet Trend and The Falls present varied approaches to paint application, from thin drips to highly impasto strokes that are almost sculptural.  Although Lee’s title betrays some doubts about the legitimacy of this approach, she would do well to remember that nearly hundred years has elapsed since Van Gogh first famously began to think about paint strokes in relationship to the patterning and texture of weavers.  Today, contemporary painters like Allison Schulnik and Conor Harrington continue to push the unique possibilities of paint to cling and drip (respectively), confirming again and again that an interest in surface is more than a trend.  Lee’s complimentary color palettes and confident mark-making recall paintings of peach or cherry blossoms against a blue sky.  

  • Hung Ying Lee, “The Falls”, Oil Painting on Canvas.

Although more representational, Jihoon Choi’s 3D pixelated life-sized sculptures of animals also owe a debt to the history of abstraction—specifically cubism.  These forms have a strangeness that evoke both Minecraft and Super Mario Bros., confronting our expectations about nature and the virtual.  Ideas about simulacra are again on display in Max Luo’s three square ceramic pieces.  These works function largely like paintings, presenting a figure peeking through a crack.  First, the figure exists in the 2D space of the picture plane.  By the third panel, the figure has receded to exist within the 3D space behind the picture plane, drawing the viewers focus to ideas about paintings as virtual containers.  Luo essentially plays with the oldest and most implicit question in the arts: what is reality?  In answering this question, we turn to photography.  

  • Jihoon Choi, “White Deer“, Steel - Body, Real Antler, Wheels, Paint.
  • Max Luo, “Shh…”, Wood, plaster, Metal, Ceramic.

Xuebing Du’s photographic prints are spectacularly detailed liquid-scapes that disrupt gravity and space.  Water here is presented as a mysterious and uncontrollable force, at once calming and terrifying.  The prints of Ying Jung also confuse our expectations of space.  Ying Jung’s works make use of traditional photographic techniques to create contemporary multiple exposures of disappearing figures in undergrowth.  The black and white denseness of the images have the all-over-ness of a Jackson Pollock surface, but the addition of the figure reminds the viewer of the unique ability of photography to embrace decisive, overlapping moments in time.  

  • Xuebing Du, “Static Flow”, Photograph Print.
  • Ying Jung Lucky Lu, “I Was There Before“, Silver Gelatin Print.

A third artists using the tools of photography is Shen Linghao.  Linghao’s media installation makes use of light-sensitive photographs of a Jiangnan Shipyard and the former residence of Chiang Ching-kuo, a former president of the Republic of China and who is remembered in part for relaxing authoritarianism and prohibitions of free speech in Taiwan.  The moody, monochromatic photographs are printed on light-sensitive paper but displayed in a dark box.  Viewers are invited to shine a flashlight on the images and consider the cinematic afterglow.  Recalling the repurposing of the shipyard and the destruction of Ching-kuo’s villa, Shen Linghao’s artist statement reflects on change, seeing his images as “a disoriented theatre, in which various self-conflicted dramas are presented”.  However, a flashlight in the hands of an American viewer may also suggest the fraught history of perception of Taiwan and Taiwanese by outsiders: acknowledgement, followed by denial and willful obfuscation.

  • Shen Linghao, “ The Scenery in Heart-Theater of History”, Composite Media Installation.

Finally, one encounters three artists making use of saturated color.  Hsien Chun’s screen-prints present decorated figures that mash-up comic book chic with old-world spirituality emerging from dystopian landscapes.  Alison Ye’s refreshingly whimsical works I Love Candy and First Date are ceramic wall-mounted figures.  The figures are both cartoonish and freaky, utilizing color and pattern to first disarm the viewer, then stylized monster features like horns and a cyclops eye to surprise.  Yuri Hyun’s works on paper use ink pen, colored pencil and marker to create fantastically detailed worlds that evoke ancient Cambodian architecture and 80’s cartoon funhouses for an aesthetic that is unmistakably contemporary.  

  • Hsien Chun Tsai, “Taiwan”, Screen Print.
  • Alison Ye, “I love candy“, Ceramic, Underglaze, Steel, Epoxy.
  • Yuri Hyun, “Spring”, Mix-Media.

When I spoke to Ma Shang, one of the founders of the Zing collaborative, about the exhibition he first told me there was no theme.  After a pause, he then stated “the theme is we exist”.  As white people like myself continue to fight our way down the semantic rabbit holes of terms like “identity politics” and “political correctness” this exhibition serves as a reminder that defining and redefining racial categories, Americanness, and contemporary art norms remains a privilege for a few.  In the last few decades, identity has found ubiquitous expression in contemporary art through individual works and exhibitions not because artists and institutions wish to uphold boundaries, but because in order to break them down we first need more equal representation.  The United States has a complicated and violent history with regard to minority groups, migrants and immigrants that continues today.  We are a country of immigrants that quickly invented concepts like “white” and even the peculiar definition of “asian” in order to maintain power for some groups and withhold it from others.  Of course, words alone are not enough: laws like the Chinese Exclusion Act forbid ethnic Chinese from entering the United States.  The law was not repealed for 61 years—in 1943, even as Asians became the “model minority” in the white imagination.  San Fransisco was always at the forefront of these issues, and Zing today is perfectly positioned to continue these conversations in a public way even if they are doing so covertly or implicitly.  

We must acknowledge that no matter how its turned, the Rubik’s cube of “artist” in the popular imagination contains these tinges of whiteness and maleness.  This puzzle is solved only by taking things apart and writing new histories.  For Asian Americans and groups like Zing, flipping this narrative is a vital task.  The challenges of immigrating to a new country remain prohibitive to creating art: acquiring language skills, navigating cultural norms, finding creative ways to extend continually expiring visas.  These challenges are so far removed from the experience of most Americans that indeed, the theme “we exist” is itself palpable and most powerful.  Artists in the inaugural exhibition of Zing engage the same themes that all artists engage: abstraction, the body, loss, time, etc. while using the same tools and techniques, too.  Since romanticism, a large driver of artistic work and identity is the idea of alienation: that feeling that one does not quite belong.  Here one relates in at least a tenuous way to the experience of immigration.  For what artist, or indeed what human being, has not felt a pang of dislocation or separation?  It is in compassionately recalling these emotions that one is able to recognize what it means to be human, and what it is to create and enjoy art.  

In forming a collaborative around a minority identity these artists celebrate of the uniqueness of an asian perspective as it operates in the United States, and at once reject the notion that they are somehow wholly apart from American citizen artists and/or non-asian artists.  In viewing the inaugural Zing exhibition, asians and non-asians alike must remind ourselves to do the same.  This is the challenge and force of Zing: is it possible to stage exhibitions that assert the identity of minority groups in a way that also celebrates individuality?  If Zing’s inaugural exhibition is any indication, the answer is yes, in San Fransisco and the world.  

  • Shang Ma, Founder and Curator of ZING.
“Nothing is irrelevant, everything can be used.”

Claes Oldenburg, who celebrates his 88th birthday this month, was the subject of MoMA’s first major Pop art show. Claes Oldenburg was also the first comprehensive treatment of the artist’s work, including more than 200 of his drawings and sculptures and featuring such iconic installations as The Street (1959–60) and The Store (1961). In the exhibition catalogue, critic Barbara Rose described the “hall of mirrors” effect of Oldenburg’s work and the questions it raises: “What is both hard and soft? What changes, melts, liquefies, and yet is solid?” The catalogue itself was an Oldenburgian object: it was bound in a foam-filled vinyl cover, with little sketches by the artist of toothpaste tubes, bananas, and screws decorating the bright-pink end paper, epitomizing Oldenburg’s guiding notion, “Nothing is irrelevant, everything can be used.”

See the out-of-print catalogue, installation views, and more at http://mo.ma/2k4yyU5. 20 of #52exhibitions #MoMAhistory #tbt

Sixty Photographs: A Survey of Camera Esthetics

#tbt: On December 31, 1940, the Museum opened Sixty Photographs: A Survey of Camera Esthetics, the inaugural exhibition of MoMA’s Department of Photography. The exhibition was organized by Beaumont Newhall, who became MoMA’s first curator of photography, and photographer Ansel Adams, with whom Newhall had worked closely to establish the new department. In the exhibition catalogue, Newhall described the basis for creating this department in terms of technological and social development: advancements in cameras and photographic material had resulted in an unprecedented proliferation of pictures in daily life, and taking pictures had become a “universal hobby.” Newhall argued that “there is danger in this amazing growth. Through the very facility of the medium its quality may have become submerged.” The exhibition—like the collecting practices of the department—was intended to preserve and promote artistic excellence in photography, “not to define but to suggest the possibilities of photographic vision.” Read the out-of-print catalogue, see installation views, and more at mo.ma/52exhibitions. 16 of #52exhibitions #MoMAhistory

16 Americans

Pioneering MoMA curator Dorothy Miller was renowned for her ability to scope out and promote innovative artistic talent, but even by her standards it was clear she had organized something extraordinary with 16 Americans. The 1959 exhibition was the fifth in the Americans series, which introduced exceptional contemporary American artists. In the accompanying catalogue, Miller mused that the show had an “unusually fresh, richly varied, vigorous, and youthful character.” The work on display was groundbreaking, even to the point of vexing some conservative critics, who dismissed as folly works such as Robert Rauschenberg’s Combine paintings, Jasper Johns’s flags and targets, and especially four nearly monochromatic black paintings by a 23-year-old Frank Stella. The chances Miller took paid rich dividends: while initially controversial, the work in this exhibition would set the stage for the eclecticism and experimentation of the decade to come and soon be established as iconic American art. Check out the catalogue, exhibition views, and more at mo.ma/52exhibitions.

anonymous asked:

hi! I dont know much about art so i was wondering if you know about any artist who's pieces of art are very soft, and pastels with girls that look like fairies from the forest and flowers, stuff like that? thanks! :)

Fairy painting was popular in 19th century England. The Royal Academy of Arts in London and University of Iowa Museum of Art organized an exhibition of fairy paintings in the late 90s, which was also at the Frick. You might want to try to find the exhibition catalogue, titled Victorian Fairy PaintingRichard Dadd painted fairies quite often, and there are some other artists mentioned on the Frick website and in this article on the ‘Golden Age’ of fairy painting.  Hopefully this is a good starting point for you!

#tbt to 1995: “Video Spaces: Eight Installations”

#tbt to 1995: Video Spaces: Eight Installations surveyed recent work by nine major video artists working in “environmental video”—three-dimensional video installation or video sculpture. These three-dimensional experiments had “emerged as the most fertile forms of video art,” curator Barbara London argued in the exhibition catalogue. “By releasing the image from a single screen and embedding it in an environment, artists have extended their installations in time and space.” The artists in the show included Bill Viola, Tony Oursler, and Teiji Furuhashi (who passed away from AIDS-related illness one month after the exhibition’s close). Furuhashi’s video work Lovers (1994), an immersive, room-sized multimedia installation featuring projections of Furuhashi and members of his Kyoto-based artist collective Dumb Type, was the artist’s only solo work.

Read the catalogue, see the original 1995 exhibition website, and more at mo.ma/52exhibitions. 15 of #52exhibitions

Exhibition (Akira Toriyama)

Subject: The art of Akira Toriyama
Publisher: n/a
Published: 1993
Origin: Japan
Language: Japanese/English
ISBN: n/a
Pages: 148 (including cover)
Pages in color: 128
Dimensions: 29,7 x 29,7 cm (11.4 x 11.4 in)
Cover type: Paperback + Dust cover
Reading direction: Occidental

-> Gallery with HD photos on Flickr

Hi there! Only two people voted to choose the artbook I would have to review so I had to flip a coin. Sorry olololkitty but Exhibition won over Beautiful Noise. But don’t worry, I’ll review Shunya Yamashita’s book next week :)
In my library I have a lot of artbooks from Akira Toriyama’s works and some of them are pretty great like “The World Special” for instance. And yet, here is another amazing book about Dragon Ball, Dr Slump and so on: Exhibition.

Keep reading

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She has such a great laugh!

Channel X

Ryoji Ikeda

Book :

The Anti - Museum
An Anthology By Mathieu Copeland & Balthazar Lovay
Fri Art Kunsthalle Freiburg
König Books
2017

For the first time, this anthology is devoted to the Anti - Museum, through Anti-Art, the Anti-Artist, Anti-Exhibition, as well as Anti-Architecture, Anti-Design, Anti-Culture, Anti-Philosophy, Anti-Writing, Anti-University, Anti-Technology, Anti-Religion, Anti-Cinema and Anti-Music. This notion (unpatented but regularly reappropriated) traces the erratic and sometimes paradoxical counter-history of the contestation of artistic institutions.

From the first Anti-Exhibition to the first catalogue retracing the history of Closed Exhibitions, from Dada to Noise Music, from ‘Everything Is Art’ to ‘NO ! Art’, the Japanese Avant-Gardes to Lettrist Cinema, and not forgetting such major protest figures as Gustav Metzger, Henry Flynt, Graciela Carnevale, and Lydia Lunch, The Anti-Museum sketches a polyphonic panorama where negation is accompanied by a powerful breath of life.

'During the exhibition the gallery will be closed’
Robert Barry
1969

CD :

Byetone
Symeta
Raster - Noton
RN130

Music & Design by Olaf Bender

Raster - Noton . Archiv Für Ton Und Nichtton

iTunes :

Alva Noto
Xerrox
Raster - Noton
RN78

The Anti - GMA …

‘I was struck by the neon advertisements washing all over Broadway. You are there, you talk to someone, and all of a sudden he turns blue. Then the colour fades – another one comes and turns him red or yellow […]. I wanted to do the same in my canvases’. — Fernand Léger quoted in Fernand Léger (exhibition catalogue), The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1998, p. 236

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10-3-66 (part 1)

Following the Provo-related protests that took place during the royal wedding procession of March 10, 1966, a small exhibition was installed at the space of publisher Polak & Van Gennep (at that time situated at Prinsengracht 820, Amsterdam) – an exhibition featuring photos documenting the police brutality that took place during the protests of March 10. 

This exhibition, co-organized by Provo (in collaboration with the magazines Propria Cures, Links and Yang) opened on March 19 (only nine days after the protests) with a legendary speech by the Dutch writer Jan Wolkers. Surely enough, the opening of the exhibition itself turned into a stage for police brutality; an event famously captured by Dutch avant-garde filmmaker Louis van Gasteren, in his short movie ‘Omdat Mijn Fiets Daar Stond’ (1966) – we will come back to this movie in a later post.  

Shortly after the exhibition, an accompanying catalogue appeared. Edited by Rob Stolk and Christoph Hahn, the oblong booklet (A4-sized, black & white, offset-printed, 40 pages, bound with red tape and staples) featured photographs by Cor Jaring, Ed van der Elsken, Koen Wessing and G.J. (Gerrit Jan) Wolffensperger.
The catalogue was published in 1966 by De Parel van de Jordaan (the self-proclaimed ‘Oranje Komitee’ of the Provo movement), in which Rob Stolk played a central role – alongside other prominent Provo members, such as Peter Brinkhorst and Hans Tuynman. Obviously, the designation ‘Oranje Komitee’ (which roughly translates as ‘Royalist Festivity Committee’) should be seen as a deeply ironic gesture, as the Provo movement was vehemently anti-monarchist.

In an (again deeply ironic) manifesto (in the form of an open letter to the mayor of Amsterdam), printed on the last page of the publication, members of Oranje Komitee De Parel van de Jordaan congratulate the mayor with the police brutality, pointing out that it is exactly this “spectacle of brutality” that blew up the image of the monarchy, thereby revealing the “Pop-Art proportions of the Queen”.

The general ‘verso/recto’ concept of the booklet is very interesting as well, the newspaper clippings on the left-hand pages being constantly nuanced and countered by the photographs on the right-hand pages (and vice versa), creating an atmosphere of permanent dialogue.

In ‘Je Bevrijden van de Drukpers’ (’To Liberate Yourself from the Printing Press’), an article that appeared in 1991 in the magazine ‘Jeugd en Samenleving’ (‘Youth and Society’), Rob Stolk talks to Tjebbe van Tijen about the relationship between activism and printing. In that interview, Rob also briefly mentions the technical difficulties of printing the 10-3-66 publication:

“I once cooperated with Chris Hahn on a booklet that included photos by Koen Wessing, documenting the riots during Beatrix’ wedding. It was printed quite weakly, but that was because we had a tiny offset press that was impossible to apply any ink on. Although we screened (‘rasterized’) the images quite decently, especially considering the time, the machine just couldn’t pull it off. We printed it on A4 sheets – it was still a pretty neat publication for those days.”