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Dec 23, 2019 Web Exclusive By Dustin Krcatovich

Most modern art fans know at least a little about Fluxus, the post-Dada movement of the latter half of the 20th century whose exponents occasionally included Yoko Ono, Henry Flynt, and Nam June Paik, among many others. An anti-commercial movement which nonetheless used mass media and consumer products to get its point across, Fluxus was like a politically radical inverse of Pop Art: where Pop adapted the mundane for a gallery setting, Fluxus endeavored to push high concepts in masses-friendly, socialistic ways. This approach failed to create household names like Warhol or Lichtenstein (though, of course, Ono is her own kind of household name, if often for the wrong reasons), but I’ve certainly met a lot of graphic designers and marketing people who love to reference the movement in their pitches, even if they often conveniently ignore its radical central lessons.

George Maciunas, the subject of Jeffrey Perkins’ documentary George, gave Fluxus its name in the 1950s and pushed to have it recognized as a movement, sometimes to the chagrin of artists involved. All those who resisted being grouped would benefit from the association, but still, their unwilling inclusion is telling of both Maciunas’ pigheadedness and his desire to bring people together. These are the two poles of his persona most on display in George.

Like his friend Jonas Mekas, Maciunas often received more recognition as a spearheader than as an artist in his own right. He dedicated his life to facilitating Fluxus, whether it meant opening co-op housing he couldn’t afford — and didn’t know how — to maintain, or taking the movement’s central figures on tour by boat.

George hems close to standard talking-head documentary form and maintains a pretty straightforward chronology, but it does indulge in some adventurous structural moves here and there, and there’s lots of rare vintage footage. We don’t hear from everyone who deserve a say in the story of Maciunas’ life and work, but marquee names like Ono, Flynt, and Alison Knowles are extensively interviewed, along with no shortage of other collaborators, friends, family, and lovers. Of course, some important associates left this world too early: in particular, Dick Higgins, the artist/sound poet/prankster who was instrumental in getting Fluxus off the ground, and with whom Maciunas often had a tempestuous relationship, died in 1998. His input is sorely missed.

The bare-bones DVD package here could have used a few bonus features. There’s no shortage of Fluxus films which could have been included, and many of their happenings were also well-documented. Their absence is likely due to a licensing issue, though, as many of these films are tightly held for anything aside from gallery exposition. Still, it feels like a missed opportunity, especially considering Maciunas’ guiding principles regarding accessibility.

George paints a portrait which is not always flattering, but it’s revealing and sympathetic. Nearly every artist involved in Fluxus had had a falling out with Maciunas at some point, but just the same, they spoke of him with love, appreciation, and awed bemusement. That Maciunas could engender such bonhomie despite his eccentricities is just one reason he deserves wider recognition, and George illustrates plenty of other reasons. One walks away with a better understanding of an integral, underappreciated 20th century arts figure, and it’s hard to ask for much more than that.

(www.kinolorber.com/product/george-the-story-of-george-maciunas-and-fluxus-2018-dvd)