Rube Goldberg’s cartoons have become such a part of American  culture that his name appears as an adjective in the dictionary  for anything that is complicated but accomplishes little. In  1995, his comic strips were even commemorated on a US postage  stamp.   A rare opportunity to view original artwork created by the  Goldbergian mind is on view in “Creative Contraptions,” a  four-part exhibition celebrating the influence of the  artist-inventor at the Stamford Museum & Nature Center (SMNC)  through May 22.   The exhibition includes original works from the Rube Goldberg  collection, which was donated by the artist’s son, George W.  George of Stamford, to Williams College Museum of Art in  Williamstown, Mass. Additional loans come from cartoonist Bill  Jonocha of Stamford and Stuart Reisbord of Wallingford, Penn.  Complementing this trove is a section showcasing designs created  by four professional Connecticut artists who submitted proposals  for works that were inspired by Goldberg’s original creations.  And because Goldberg’s madcap designs appeal to kids of all ages,  other sections of the show feature K-12 concepts and even allow  visitors to sketch out their own “better mousetraps.” Quintessentially American, Reuben Lucius Goldberg was born onIndependence Day, July 4, 1883, in San Francisco, and died on PearlHarbor Day, December 7, 1970. With no formal artistic trainingbeyond public school art lessons, Goldberg nevertheless showed anearly interest in becoming an artist. His practical, Prussian-bornfather, Max, had other plans, however. Proclaiming that “artistsare bums,” Max Goldberg steered his son to the University ofCalifornia at Berkeley’s school of mining engineering, whereGoldberg graduated with an engineering degree in 1904.   After enduring a detestable six-month job designing sewers for  the city of San Francisco, Goldberg was able to engineer a  vocation more to his own choosing – he landed a job as an office  boy in the sports department of the San Francisco  Chronicle. Persistent in his quest to become a cartoonist,  Goldberg submitted drawing after drawing to his editor, who would  tear them up and throw them away. Enduring this and other  newsroom obstacles, such as having his desk nailed shut by  prankster coworkers, Goldberg finally got his cartoons published.  In 1905, he joined the San Francisco Bulletin.   When the great San Francisco earthquake occurred in 1906,  Goldberg reportedly joked that his design work for the city’s  water system was responsible for the resulting fire. In 1907, he  found himself drawn to the larger arena of New York City to pen  sports cartoons for the New York Evening Mail. It  was here that he developed “Foolish Questions,” a popular cartoon  series that offered silly answers to annoyingly obvious  questions. In one such cartoon from the series, a clueless  spectator at a football game asks, “Is he being helped off the  field?” “No, Dear,” replies her companion, “they’re trying out a  new dance called ‘The Wounded Soldier Limp.'” Goldberg also  created “Mike and Ike (They Look Alike),” “Boob McNutt” and  “Crazy Inventions” during this period.   In a professional career that spanned nearly 60 years, Goldberg  not only created a staggering body of cartoons, but also found  time to serve as the founding member and first president of the  National Cartoonists Society, which began in 1946. The cartoon he  drew for the July 22, 1947, edition of The New York Sun  titled “Peace Today” with an atomic bomb teetering on the brink  of destruction won a Pulitzer Prize in 1948. Goldberg not only  continued to provide political and social commentary in his later  years, he even took up sculpting at the age of 80. He in fact  designed the Reuben Award, which is given out each year by the  National Cartoonists Society, and drew political cartoons until  he turned 81.   According to Rosa Portell, the SMNC curator of collections,  Goldberg’s “depiction of ‘maximum effort to accomplish minimum  results’ offered a sarcastic counterpoint to the numerous  labor-saving devices marketed in the Twentieth Century. Trained  as an engineer, Goldberg created a readily recognizable visual  language of action and reaction in which birds, mice, monkeys,  porcupines and goats set pulleys in motion, springs uncoiled,  weights dropped and bells rang, all towards a pre-determined and  hilarious outcome. His madcap world was presided over by the  likes of Professor Lucifer Gorgonzola Butts and was populated by  delightfully drawn characters cursed with everyday foibles.”   Although his later political cartoons displayed a mordant wit,  Goldberg is best known for the zany “inventions” that he penned  between 1914 and 1935 at the rate of two or three a week. They  employed a fusion of mechanical doodads and the less predictable  antics of plants, bugs, animals and the occasional burning  candle. Instead of making difficult tasks simple, Goldberg’s  conveyor belts of arms, wheels, gears, handles, cups, rods,  canary cages, pails, boots, bathtubs, paddles and live animals  culminate in a visual punch line – always delivered with a  gentle, good-natured nudge – that we humans overcomplicate our  lives every time we try to scratch the technological itch. Yet,  Goldberg was no Luddite. His multistep contraptions use  electrical fans, irons, typewriters and other labor-saving  gizmos, but these are always supporting players in a gleefully  convoluted visual chain of foolishness in which frightened  rabbits or ravenous fruit flies are just as vital to the end  result as the cogwheels and machines.   In one of Goldberg’s cartoons from the American collection at  Williams College Museum of Art, for example, Professor Lucifer  Gorgonzola Butts, a perennial character, fashions an idea for  taking his own photograph. In 19 steps, set in motion by Butts’  own wiggling big toe, a cascading contraption that includes  everything from a spring and a hammer to an Arabian midget and  trapeze promises to unfailingly snap the picture. In an editorial  aside at the end the strip, Goldberg admonishes, “If the picture  is no good, don’t blame it on the invention. It’s the way you  look.”   In the exhibition, a circa 1930 cartoon delightfully sends up a  hyper-complicated take on the old home remedy of having somebody  else yank a string attached to an aching tooth. It is titled  “Professor Butts evolves his latest painless tooth-extractor in a  state of scientific delirium.”   Goldberg’s son, Mr George, followed his father’s footsteps to a  different kind of success – as a Hollywood writer, producer and  director and on Broadway with Dylan, the 1964 play about  the poet Dylan Thomas – by starting out in the mailroom at MGM.  Mr George said the extensive collection of several hundred pieces  is especially interesting for the series of 100 or so yellow  legal pads with his father’s sketches of “inventions.”   Even his children’s surnames were indirectly a Goldberg  invention, according to Mr George, who recalled that he and his  older brother, Thomas George, an artist, were always being  introduced as the sons of the famous cartoonist. “We had no  identity of our own,” said Mr George. “So Rube said, ‘If you’re  going to have careers of your own, you might as well have a  different name.’ My brother chose the name Thomas George because  he had a friend named George, and I thought if I was going to get  into the movie business, that would be an easy name to remember.”   As for his father, Mr George said, “I’ve studied the man at some  distance and up close – he drew funny. If you look at his  drawings, it just makes you smile. His people were misshapen –  they’re, well, people, and the same with his animals. Rube’s  humor was sharp and satirical, but it was gentle and didn’t hurt  anybody.” Were there real-life counterparts to characters like  Professor Butts? “It wasn’t that obvious, but clearly he drew  from life,” said Mr George. “He was a great observer of life, and  he invented something that nobody did and nobody else can, which  is the ‘inventions.'”   Goldberg also conceived and designed the Reuben award, which is  presented each year to National Cartoonists Society’s Cartoonist  of the Year at a black-tie event. Past winners read like a Who’s  Who from the Sunday comics pages – Milton Caniff, Al Capp, Chic  Young, Walt Kelly, Charles Schulz, Hank Ketcham, Chester Gould  and Scott Adams, among others. Mr George recalled, “About four  years before he died, Rube said to me, ‘You know, I don’t  understand why they’ve never given me the award.’ And I said,  ‘Rube, it’s named after you. That would be like them giving the  Oscar to a guy named Oscar; You’re the guy that did it.'” In  fact, Goldberg did receive his own coveted award – in 1967 for  humor in sculpture.   It has been some 35 years since Goldberg’s death but his  “inventions” continue to inspire countless local, regional and  national Rube Goldberg machine contents, such as the one that is  being conducted on April 5 this year by the Theta Tau fraternity  at Purdue University. The task, as always is simple – remove both  old batteries from a two-battery flashlight, install new  batteries and turn it on – but this has to be accomplished in 20  or more steps   The exhibition at the Stamford Museum & Nature Center  recognizes the inspirational nature of Goldberg’s work by  including a section that showcases designs by four professional  Connecticut artists who submitted proposals for works that  responded to the characteristics of Goldberg’s creations.   For Margaret Roleke of Redding, the exhibition gave her the  opportunity to install “Action/Reaction Prototype,” a contraption  of steel, Plexiglas, foot-operated water pump and colorful ends.  True to Goldberg’s credo, her transparent box accomplishes  nothing, but visitors can enjoy its virtual “splash and bang.” “I  was going for ‘Rube under control – with easy maintenance'” said  Ms Roleke.   In another room, artist Ellen Hackl Fagan, Greenwich, exhibits  “Embracing Chaos – The Reverse Color Organ,” which synthesizes  approximately 200 clay board panels with acrylic, enamel, latex,  gloss, glitter, plastic caps, copper dust, oil, gel medium,  graphite, fossils, push pins, nails and oil with sound that is  triggered by passing a video sensor over the artwork.  Collaborator Konrad Kaczmarek of New York City explains that the  computer hardware and software “reads” the hue saturation and  lightness of the active boards and triggers 28 discrete and 53  blended sounds – all prerecorded compositions that he created,  combining original works, indigenous music, found sounds and  popular music by contemporary artists. “Someone has suggested that if Michelangelo were alive today,he would be producing music videos. A corollary might be that ifRube Goldberg were still creating today, he would be inventingcomputer games,” says Chris McQuilken, an artist from Ridgefield.With that observation, his trio of computer games – “Mouse Trap,””Alarm” and “Love” – let visitors channel the spirit of Goldberg bydragging computer illustrations of mice, cages, seesaws, balls,magnets, springs and other items to catch a mouse, wake a sleepingdog and get a boy and girl to fall in love.   For Ridgefield artist Alex Isley, creating a machine that would  slice his favorite food, cheese, resulted in “The Greatest Thing  Since Sliced Cheese,” a contraption whose actions are centered  around the theme of stinky things. Hence, there are stinky socks,  stinky aftershave, stinky animals and even a stinky movie  (Gigli). “I thought the result was kind of funny,” says Mr  Isley. “Then I looked at Rube Goldberg’s drawings in the show and  came to realize how far I would have to go to be on the same  level as the master. He was amazing.”   The Stamford Museum & Nature Center is at 39 Scofieldtown  Road, three-quarters of a mile north of Merritt Parkway (Route  15), Exit 35, at the junction of High Ridge Road (Route 137). The  main building galleries are open from 11 am to 5 pm on Sundays  and from 9 am to 5 pm on Tuesday-Saturday through March and on  Monday-Saturday beginning in April. For information, 203-322-1646  or www.stamfordmuseum.org.          
 
    



 
						