Make Art Make Money: Lessons From Jim Henson on Fueling Your Creative Career by Elizabeth Hyde Stevens Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Hyde Stevens
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down barriers, proving
that even queens, presidents, and all other manner of Pooh-bahs are just people ,
and their humanity is evident when they share a moment in laughter.
It wasn’t as crazy as it sounds for Henson to think
laughter could stop war, because in his experience, time and time again, laughter
brought unlike people together. In 1976, Henson performed on Japanese TV in
Kyoto. His producer was worried the humor in his script wouldn’t work. But,
Falk writes:
Much of what was scripted was physical, slapstick
comedy—and it turned out to work well for Japanese audiences. When they watched
the playback, the Japanese crew practically fell out of their chairs laughing.
Sensing an opportunity to rib his producer, Jim snapped some pictures to show
her in New York. [18]
Shared laughter breaks through barriers of
language, culture, and prejudice. Puppetry can do the same. Like math and
music, puppetry is a universal language. Art scholar John Bell wrote that
puppetry is “the material world in performance.” [19] Puppets, he explains, can “articulate essential elements of modern life.” [20] We learn about ourselves through puppetry. Puppetry—like the pie in the face—has
historically has been used for political activism, Bell explains, as with the Bread
and Puppet activist movement of the 1960s and the Little Theater Movement of
the 1920s. Going back further than that, puppetry seems to have a strong effect
on people of all cultures. At the funeral for ventriloquist Edgar Bergen, Henson
said:
It’s interesting to note that there have been puppets
as long as we have had records of mankind. Some of the early puppets were used
by witch doctors—or for religious purposes. In any case, puppets have often
been connected with magic. [21]
I do not think Henson is naïve to call puppetry
“magic,” because if something has a ceremonial role in bringing people
together, and we don’t really know how it works, and it’s of demonstrated value
to a group of people, “magic” seems like an appropriate label for such a thing.
We might look back on Henson’s work as frivolous kids’
stuff, and yet, to some extent, his work carried out a kind of international
diplomacy whose effects have never really been measured. In his essay “Muppets
and Money,” Andrew Leal points out:
As proof that differing socioeconomic systems do not
deter the Muppets, in 1983, Big Bird starred in the first co-production between
a U.S. television network and the People’s Republic of China. Big Bird in
China , which aired in both countries, had the bird functioning as a
goodwill ambassador, learning about China.… A year after Big Bird in
China , Jim Henson made the first of many visits to the Soviet Union,
performing Kermit and meeting with noted Russian puppeteer Sergei Obratzov … culminating in the Muppet involvement in the first joint co-production
between the Soviet Union and the United States. This project was the 1988
special Free to Be … a Family , broadcast in both countries through a
satellite hook-up.… The purpose of the special was to emphasize the fact
that kids in the U.S. and Russia are much the same and can relate to one
another, in hopes of bringing peace between the two nations. Coincidentally or
otherwise, the Berlin Wall collapsed the following year, and the Cold War
officially ended. [22]
Frank Oz once said, “Jim didn’t think of it in
hit terms.” [23] So when he told CBS that his show would be watched by “every Nielson home in
the country,” that it would have a “forty share” of the ratings, he had a different reason than the TV executives. Brillstein said the Hensons wanted to do
everything “for the right reasons.” [24] And so whether you want to enchant a huge number of people for the ratings
dollars or for your ego or, as Henson did, for the togetherness it can inspire,
the result is ironically the same—you can earn a good deal of money.
Many artists today refuse to aim for a
that even queens, presidents, and all other manner of Pooh-bahs are just people ,
and their humanity is evident when they share a moment in laughter.
It wasn’t as crazy as it sounds for Henson to think
laughter could stop war, because in his experience, time and time again, laughter
brought unlike people together. In 1976, Henson performed on Japanese TV in
Kyoto. His producer was worried the humor in his script wouldn’t work. But,
Falk writes:
Much of what was scripted was physical, slapstick
comedy—and it turned out to work well for Japanese audiences. When they watched
the playback, the Japanese crew practically fell out of their chairs laughing.
Sensing an opportunity to rib his producer, Jim snapped some pictures to show
her in New York. [18]
Shared laughter breaks through barriers of
language, culture, and prejudice. Puppetry can do the same. Like math and
music, puppetry is a universal language. Art scholar John Bell wrote that
puppetry is “the material world in performance.” [19] Puppets, he explains, can “articulate essential elements of modern life.” [20] We learn about ourselves through puppetry. Puppetry—like the pie in the face—has
historically has been used for political activism, Bell explains, as with the Bread
and Puppet activist movement of the 1960s and the Little Theater Movement of
the 1920s. Going back further than that, puppetry seems to have a strong effect
on people of all cultures. At the funeral for ventriloquist Edgar Bergen, Henson
said:
It’s interesting to note that there have been puppets
as long as we have had records of mankind. Some of the early puppets were used
by witch doctors—or for religious purposes. In any case, puppets have often
been connected with magic. [21]
I do not think Henson is naïve to call puppetry
“magic,” because if something has a ceremonial role in bringing people
together, and we don’t really know how it works, and it’s of demonstrated value
to a group of people, “magic” seems like an appropriate label for such a thing.
We might look back on Henson’s work as frivolous kids’
stuff, and yet, to some extent, his work carried out a kind of international
diplomacy whose effects have never really been measured. In his essay “Muppets
and Money,” Andrew Leal points out:
As proof that differing socioeconomic systems do not
deter the Muppets, in 1983, Big Bird starred in the first co-production between
a U.S. television network and the People’s Republic of China. Big Bird in
China , which aired in both countries, had the bird functioning as a
goodwill ambassador, learning about China.… A year after Big Bird in
China , Jim Henson made the first of many visits to the Soviet Union,
performing Kermit and meeting with noted Russian puppeteer Sergei Obratzov … culminating in the Muppet involvement in the first joint co-production
between the Soviet Union and the United States. This project was the 1988
special Free to Be … a Family , broadcast in both countries through a
satellite hook-up.… The purpose of the special was to emphasize the fact
that kids in the U.S. and Russia are much the same and can relate to one
another, in hopes of bringing peace between the two nations. Coincidentally or
otherwise, the Berlin Wall collapsed the following year, and the Cold War
officially ended. [22]
Frank Oz once said, “Jim didn’t think of it in
hit terms.” [23] So when he told CBS that his show would be watched by “every Nielson home in
the country,” that it would have a “forty share” of the ratings, he had a different reason than the TV executives. Brillstein said the Hensons wanted to do
everything “for the right reasons.” [24] And so whether you want to enchant a huge number of people for the ratings
dollars or for your ego or, as Henson did, for the togetherness it can inspire,
the result is ironically the same—you can earn a good deal of money.
Many artists today refuse to aim for a
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