Tag Archives: Hair

[March 22, 1970] Fashion: The Mystical is Going Mainstream


by Gwyn Conaway

It’s spring of 1970, and already I feel like the winds are fierce, pushing us apart along generational and political divides. In these uncertain times, I take comfort in one universal truth: the artists will always pave the way.


The Fool, Mama Cass, and the cast of HAIR at the Aquarius Theater in Los Angeles celebrating the completion of their exterior mural.

Future generations will look at this era and see not the stodgy powers in their twilight years, clinging to the rigamarole of a more conservative and unified time. This moment will be remembered by its photography, animation, filmmaking, and poets. The bright lights and psychedelic colors. The escapism and magical nostalgia. The music and camp.

There is no doubt that the great music-makers are the festival gods of the twentieth century. But what of the artists that made their image? Do we not remember Bacchus and Dionysus by the hands of the artists that sculpted and painted them?


The Aquarius Theatre boasted the world's largest mural in 1968, painted by Marijke Koger and other members of The Fool from Holland. The mural included painting rainbows on the parking arrows and curbs. Like the Art Nouveau and Rococo movements before it, I sometimes wonder if we're living in another total art movement and don't even realise.

As I listened to my records with their radical album sleeves in my Los Angeles home, I found myself reminiscing about the mural painted by The Fool on the Aquarius Theater on Broadway Street. The Fool was an art collective that broke up not long after their HAIR murals that year, but the impact they’ve had is astounding. The Chariot and The Apple are two boutiques, for example, that carry their showstopping mind trip aesthetic.

Marijke Koger, in particular, is prolific. She’s one of The Fool’s founding members and has remained in Los Angeles. Her work is primarily in painted objects such as Eric Clapton’s “The Fool” Gibson SG guitar, John Lennon’s piano, and George Harrison’s BMC Mini. She also designed numerous stage costumes and album covers.


The Fool designed the costumes and guitars for Eric Clapton's band called CREAM in 1967.


The Astrobeam collection was aimed at the whimsy of young girls and their imaginations. Marijke Koger insisted that the collection use her own rainbow scheme rather than something less expensive to mass produce.

Her color is a dizzying celebration of life and love that will follow young defiance into the seventies, no doubt. Her “Astrobeam” collection was in Macy’s and Nordstrom’s last year and appealed to young Angelinos with its rainbow sorbet color palette, a sort of happy retaliation to the cold lack of acceptance surrounding them. Koger's vibrant spirit comes through in every form of art she embarks on.

Interestingly, she crossed paths with psychedelic photographer, Karl Ferris when The Fool designed the costumes and lettering for the cover of The Hollies’s 1967 album Evolution, confirming the old adage that the world is smaller than it appears.


Ferris reimagined The Hollies' new sound in this album cover by having them push through a plastic sheet, giving it the feel of pushing through a psychedelic veil of the mind.

Karl Ferris is rightfully described as the inventor of psychedelic photography techniques, and the world has taken notice. His photography has graced the albums of Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, The Hollies, and other gods of the music scene.

He has been particularly inspired by history. The Pre-Raphaelites of the Art Nouveau era and the Medieval periods both greatly inspired him as a boy. It’s especially obvious in his photography of Donovan and Jenny Boyd at Bodium Castle in 1967, which served as the album art for A Gift from a Flower to a Garden and its subsequent singles.


Wear Your Love Like Heaven is a single disc release from the A Gift from a Flower to a Garden album. The entire collection of photographs was first inspired by Ferris's youth cycling around the castles in the countryside.


Two other psychedelic shots in the collection play with the homemade aesthetic of the hippie movement when applied to the Medieval period and Medieval compositions of the divine triangle, catapulting musicians into the godly ranks.

This was of particular interest to me because of another rather influential artist, Sheilah Beckett. Beckett isn’t in the psychedelic scene, but her illustrations are full of imagination and allure. Specifically for children. She’s a children’s literature illustrator and the first woman artist at the Charles E. Cooper Studio when she was hired in 1942. Her work is playful and inspired by not only history but the current interests of the young and bold. The high contrast and frenetic aesthetic of the psychedelic movement lives in her work.


One of Sheilah Beckett's many masterful children's literature pieces. This is of The Twelve Dancing Princesses, which she painted in the 1954. Compare it to the psychedelic movement and you can see a strong through-line of imagination and color language associated with Medieval escapism, mysticism, and youthful rebellion.


The Fool's first album from 1968. Each of the members of the collective was represented by a tarot card they designed themselves. Note the medieval elements of their costumes, both above and in the album cover, bringing all three artists full-circle.

The music festival scene is less shocking than it was two or three years ago, but I don’t believe this is because its influence is fading away. To the contrary, I believe this rebellious movement is calcifying and going mainstream. The melted lettering, astrological themes, and cosmic palettes that were so defiant and niche will find their way onto wallpaper, teen magazines, and school supplies soon. Mark my words.

While some might find this to be a disappointing turn of events, I find it to be a victory. What better way to define the resistance to our horrors abroad and at home than with a brilliant explosion of life, color, and nostalgia? It will continue to reach impressionable minds and inspire their sense of rebellion for decades. Won’t that just tickle the conservative masses?

Maybe not, but it will sure tickle me.



[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]


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[July 8, 1968] Let the Sunshine In (Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical)


by Erica Frank

Hair is a rapturous celebration of free love, higher consciousness, sexual adaptability, racial integration, and anti-authoritarianism. It's a critique of political corruption, the tragedies of war, and religious oppression. Also there is nature-based spirituality.

Hair is a debauched glorification of sex, drugs, perversion, profanity, and rebellion. It mocks public service, patriotism, and the church. Also there are fart jokes.

Pick one. Or take two; they're cheap. Everyone's got an opinion and none of them are the "real truth" about this complex and colorful stage production.

Note that the more positive description involves more words. It's easier to say something is bad–depraved, degenerate, vile, corrupt, and so on–than to praise something that doesn't fit into the established storytelling patterns of the day. And this musical–and its album–steps well off the common path to get its points across.

It's transcendental meditation versus the implacable forces of orthodoxy, and the prize at stake is the souls of a swarm of young people hanging out in Central Park.

Hair album cover

The cover is so striking you might not realize that the hair is not an artistic cloud-of-lightning addition–that's Steve Curry, who plays Woof in the Broadway cast.

Talk About Your Plenty, Talk About Your Ills

The music is incredible. From the opening "Aquarius" with its drumbeats and slow crooning that suddenly shifts to a cascading list of delightful assumptions of what the new era will bring, to the lascivious "Sodomy," to the jubilant "I Got Life," to the poignant "Easy to be Hard," the songs compel emotions with a shifting array of perspectives. The titular "Hair" is rebellious without hostility; "Don't Put It Down" is irreverent without contempt; "Three-Five-Zero-Zero" is stark and accusatory; "Good Morning Starshine" is bright and hopeful.

It's easy to get caught up in the music and miss the message–after all, the message is multi-directional and possibly contradictory. There's no one single theme I can point to and say, "this, this is the true message of Hair."

A scene from a performance last year, before the play hit Broadway.

It's anti-war, anti-draft. Those parts are simple enough. But it doesn't talk about war's influence on communities or even society–it talks about deaths of strangers happening far away, and young men who are afraid or (not unreasonably) unwilling to march off to fight and possibly die. This is not like Mark Twain's War Prayer; it's not a reminder that one side "winning" means another side enduring sorrows and agonies. This is instead, a view of war from the perspective of confused teenagers: A lack of comprehension why anyone would want to fight when the world seems on the verge of so many social and spiritual breakthroughs, when there is so much beauty and bliss and they could be partying instead.

War Is Not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things

Sheila leads the tribe in chanting for peace and freedom. Claude denounces his parents for coupon-clipping and wanders the streets looking at daffodils. Hud quotes Muhammad Ali from the New York Times last year, saying, "The draft is white people sending black people to make war on yellow people to defend the land they stole from the red people."

Muhammad Ali and friends at the Houston courthouse after he refuses to be drafted

Muhammad Ali and friends leaving the Armed Forces induction center in Houston after Ali refused the draft – April 28, 1967. | AP

There is something very true about that. And yet it is also facile, a simplification of a complex political situation. It boils the draft down to "why is this wrong for me" without consideration of why one nation might take up arms on behalf of another.

I do not think the US should be in Viet Nam at all, and we certainly shouldn't be drafting soldiers to send there. But my reasons for these beliefs are not discussed in Hair, which is focused on its "haggle of hippies" and their interests, which do not include political theory.

The play is obviously, overtly anti-racist. It denounces segregation and discrimination, speaks out against the white historical practice of "colonizing" by killing anyone who get in their way. But it does so by having black characters proudly claim the slurs thrown against them as badges of honor, by showing native peoples as "noble savages," insightful and wise but speaking with broken English. It does not show that some black people are uncomfortable with gutter slang, and would like to be lawyers, doctors, or professors, rather than street dancers and "President of the United States of Love." It does not show that some people hold all Americans, not just "the Establishment," in contempt. It celebrates white girls dating black boys and vice versa; there's no equal jubilation over black people who want nothing to do with the communities of their historical oppressors.

It's not inaccurate so much as it's incomplete, showing only narrow aspects of multi-faceted problems, a view so limited it could reasonably be called deliberately misleading. It preaches that peace, love, and tolerance can overcome all conflicts, settle all disagreements, glossing over any disputes that have their roots in limited resources or incompatible cultural differences.

The Politics of Ecstasy

It would be easy to dismiss the play as a performance of Timothy Leary's admonition to "Turn on, tune in, drop out," and to say the "core" message is "ignore all the rules; just enjoy yourselves."

Poster fort Human Be-In in 1968

Poster for the Human Be-In at Golden Gate Park in 1967.

And while there's plenty to support that claim–lots of sex and drugs and, every time things get a bit too serious, Berger makes crude jokes–there's something deeper as well. The hippies wrestle with politics, survival, and their sense of self. They try to find their own identities in a community that's aggressively cooperative, in contrast with the large society that seeks to erase them.

For all the fun and festivities, there is a dark undertone that cannot be banished by any amount of song and merriment. As the story pushes toward the conclusion Claude fears so deeply, he is left with the awareness that, while his community will share his joys, they don't know how to lessen his worries or sorrows. We, the audience, are stuck also realizing that these cheerful, carousing people, who hug freely and seem devoid of jealousy or malice, are fighting an unwinnable battle against forces they do not wish to comprehend, because even naming the foe would lose the innocence that allows their tribe to exist at all.

Five stars. The highs are lively and charming, and the lows are breathtakingly bleak.






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