2011Christiane Meyer-Stoll

The wish to mount the first retrospective exhibition and publish this monograph on Bill Bolinger was inspired by the material preserved in the archives of Rolf Ricke. Without this indispensable source, it would have been daunting and near impossible to embark on such a venture. At the same time, these astonishing works, never seen before –most of them surviving only in Bollinger’s own, precisely annotated black-and-white photographs— have been an enduring inspiration. From 1968 to 1971 Bollinger kept his European dealer, Rolfe Ricke in Cologne, up-to-date by regularly sending extensive visual materials on everything he was doing . In addition to pictures documenting his numerous exhibitions, the majority of the photographs show recent works created in his studio. This is the source of almost all of the pictures reproduced in the chapters Studio Photographs, and Documentation of Outdoor Works and Projects. Bollinger’s handwritten data on the back of the black-and-white prints generally include the title, the materials, and in some cases the measurements, providing a wealth of original information that was crucial to researching Bollinger’s oeuvre. In addition to these visual materials, the archives contain a sketchbook with diary-like entries; notes made during a profoundly enriching journey across the Atlantic on a freighter in 1968: detailed instructions for installing Rope Piece, which was shown at the exhibition Live in Your Head. When Attitudes Become Form; and letters. They also provide important clues in attempting to trace Bollinger’s works: his invoices for materials purchased, for works, and lists of gallery sales. All of this invaluable source material served well in preparing the exhibition and publication. 

Wade Saunder’s article “Not Lost, Not Found: Bill Bollinger” was also a useful impetus. Published in March 2000 in Art in America, it was reprinted, slightly abridged, in 2008 with the author’s kind permission in our publication, Sammlung Rolf Ricke. Ein Zeitdokument?Rolf Ricke Collection. A Document of the Times (1). The article describes Bill Bollinger at the peak of his career, his gradual decline into obscurity, and the tragic circumstances of his life. Saunders has generously given us unlimited access to his records, accumulated in over years of intensive research. In addition to black-and-white photographs of important exhibitions, among them solo shows at BIanchini Gallery (1966), Bykert Gallery (1967 and 1969), and O.K. Harris (1972, 1973, and 1974), he collected a number of articles, references to artist colleagues and friends, and an initial exhibition history, 

In spite of all this material, details of Bill Bollinger’s career are extremely patchy and incomplete. Repeated attempts to be granted access to his estate failed; the time is not yet ripe. We therefore followed every trail and investigated every clue. We wrote to all the exhibition venues mentioned in connection with Bollinger, to the educational institutions where he studied or taught: we sent research requests to photo archives in Europe and the United states, contacted the photographers Paolo Mussat Sartor and Robert Fiore as well as the Roy Lichtenstein Foundation, which had just acquired the Shunk-Kender archives and was in the process of reviewing the contents; we went to the archives of exhibition maker Harald Szeemann, and attempted to see others,including those of Alanna Heiss, Lucy Lippard, and Marcia Tucker. In addition, our investigations addressed the archived of galleries where Bollinger had shown or been represented, among them, Bianchini Gallery, Leo Castelli Gallery, Klaus Kertess (Bykert Gallery), and Ivan Karp (O.K. Harris). The archive of Egidio Marzona proved to be a crucial milestone in our efforts. In gathering information for his archives of twentieth century art, he never lost sight of forgotten artists, including those of the 1960s–and fortunately Bollinger. Marzona has an almost complete collection of Bollinger’s solo and group exhibition announcements; thanks to this we discovered previously enlisted exhibitions. Bollinger usually selected the images for his announcements himself, providing another informative source of visual material. In addition, after the former Rolf Ricke Collection, the Marzona Collection contains the second crucial body of work by Bollinger, which has been indispensable to the success of this exhibition. 

Our research has led us to surprising discoveries. For example, while making inquires into Bollinger’s very first appearance (in an exhibition named Sound, Light, Silence: Art that Performs, 1966), preserved in the archives of the Atkins Museum of Fine Arts in Kansas City were installation photographs and correspondence between the curator and Bollinger, the latter containing precise instructions for mounting a Channel Piece. Significantly, Bollinger referred to his Channel Pieces as “painting.”

This designation raises a number of questions. Bollinger’s work developed out of his research into the picture plane, the vehicle of painting, but can the clearly defined, slender aluminum profiles in the Channel Pieces still be called painting? Wouldn’t it make more sense to assign them to the border area between painting and sculpture, like Donald Judd’s Specific Objects? (2) The Channel Pieces are flat, like a picture, and still three-dimensional. Their three-dimensionality is reinforced by differences in the height of the aluminum elements. The inherently monochromatic material with its reduced contrasts (silver/black) fuses the elements into a single dynamic entity. The edges clearly delineate the picture frame and yet the diagonal ends indicate a continuity of the additively joined sculptural elements. Bollinger was always inquiring into the boundary between painting and sculpture, between plane and space, between part and whole; he was always exploring transitions and edges. The Channel Pieces are also the most conspicuous demonstration of his inquiry into the premises of Minimal Art.

In the course of ongoing research, we learned that Bollinger had screened a 16-mm film, bearing like many other works a tautological and pragmatic title, Movie, in MoMA’s 1970 exhibition Information. Discovered in MoMA’s archives and subsequently re-stored, it has now been copied for exhibition purposes. According to Bollinger’s correspondence with the museum, he never asked to have his copy returned.

As we had had no indication that Bollinger ever worked with moving images, the discovery of this nine-minute color film was even more sensational. And there was an additional surprise in store for us, which was not mentioned in the synopsis found in the museum’s database: Bollinger acts in his own film. Movie shows him alone in the middle of an unspectacular landscape with a long, heavy tree trunk of the kind that might be used for telephone poles. He grabs the tree trunk, which is about twice his own height, and tries to hold it upright, to balance it on the ground. Persevering, he finally manages to keep it perpendicular, then lets go and steps aside; the pole loses its balance and falls. Again, Bollinger rights it; again, it tips over and falls. He repeats the process countless times; once it remains upright for a little longer before falling over again and once Bollinger manages to make it stay. He steps out of the frame; the tree trunk remains standing. Nothing happens. Bollinger walks back into the frame, approaches, shoves the tree, and makes it fall. Once again, he starts righting it. On one hand, his act demonstrates the obstinacy of artistic action; on the other, it mirrors the relationship of human beings to the forces of nature. Bollinger takes action, determines a form, an artistic order, but then abandons what follows to the laws of gravity. As soon as the laboriously established artistic order has been achieved, he cancels it out again. The film epitomizes a feature that is characteristic of Bollinger’s oeuvre: a focus on fundamentals, based by enlisting his profound knowledge of physical laws.

These startling, unexpected finds were offset against other situations, in which no amount of intense research succeeded in unearthing data on works shown in certain exhibitions, neither with the help of the curator, of artist colleagues, nor of photogra-phers. A case in point: the Brooklyn Bridge Event in May 1971. It was in the course of this three-day event under the Brooklyn Bridge that Gordon Matta-Clark shot his film, Fire Child, but it has been impossible to discover what Bollinger contributed. It is only thanks to one of the rare copies of the exhibition announcement in the Marzona archives that we at least know the location, date, and participating artists. In a very small number of group exhibitions, neither the dates nor the participating artists are known, and thus only rudimentary information is listed in this part of the artist’s exhibition history.

By the summer of 2010, extended, meticulous research into the 1970 exhibition in the Starrett-Lehigh Building had yielded only three black-and-white photographs from Wade Saunders’s archives-a glaring gap, as Bollinger considered this exhibition a highlight of his artistic career. In retrospect, colleagues have described it as an overwhelming event although it seems to have depleted Bollinger’s financial resources; he subsequently moved to upstate New York and severed relations with his former dealer.

In the past few months utterly unexpected, astonishing sources have surfaced and with them, incredible pictures: Elizabeth Baker, former editor of Art in America, rediscovered black-and-white pictures that she had taken of the exhibition, which have given a better insight into the dimensions of the works, the density of their installation, and the way they were presented.

Fellow artist Peter Soriano remembered that color slides had been made (presumably by Bollinger) and not only managed to locate them, but even gave us access to them: the first images in color! We knew from descriptions that Bollinger used red hoses, but of course we had no idea what shade of red. It was also surprising to learn that parts of the walls on the top floor of the Starrett-Lehigh Building were painted green as it often is the case in industrial buildings. Color apparently played a decisive role in the exhibition: the view of the waters in the Hudson River; the lower part of the walls painted green, marking a kind of horizontal in the space; the hoses, some red, others of transparent plastic; the sheen of black-enameled barrels with their rusty interiors; the raw wooden surface of the sawhorses; the shiny metal clamps and fittings; the natural colors of stones and tree trunks. It was only by studying these unearthed visuals that we realized how very complex the work was. Lines in red-a plane of green. The outside reflected inside: the light coming in through the windows bouncing off the enamel of the shiny black barrels. Suddenly the view of the Hudson River acquired superordinate meaning in relation to the water equalized in the ramified “canal” system within the galleries. Bollinger directs our attention to the earth’s water systems. It is even more astonishing that this all took place in a large-scale industrial building, prefiguring what would one day be a commonplace venue in the art world. In an e-mail to the writer, the artist Paul Mogensen (3)  commented on the fact that part of Bollinger’s artistic gesture soon vanished. Inevitably, while filling the hoses, the water had splashed about and formed puddles on the floor,* just as paint spatters on the floor of a studio, but with one significant difference: blotches of paint stay put while water evaporates after a while. It was not until we saw the color images that we were fully able to appreciate the counterpoint established between the painterly and sculptural aspects of the exhibition. To put it differently: these works of Bollinger’s, like so many others, cannot be conclusively assigned to either painting or sculpture.

From the artist David Reed we learned that Rafael Ferrer had helped Bollinger install the works in the Starrett-Lehigh Building. Ferrer not only vividly captures the atmosphere of those days in an illuminating contribution to this monograph; he also discovered over thirty color slides in good condition that he had taken in the course of mounting the show. His slides reveal a number of details, allowing closer study of the works.

Ferrer also told us that in 1969 Bollinger had executed a work in the staircase of his house, Untitled (Gorgas Stairway). Ferrer installed this work in the exhibition, the same way Bollinger had done it in his house. Moreover, the discovery of this hitherto unknown work indicates that Bollinger had already used water and transparent hoses in the US in 1969, therefore disproving the assumption that he first worked with water in 1970 in the Barrel Piece in Cologne and, as a whole, in his Turin exhibition Water is life and like art it finds its own level.

These findings have made it possible to cover the exhibition in the Starrett-Lehigh Building in considerable detail and from several angles despite having no precise data on titles, measurements, or materials. The materials can be gleaned from the pictures and from existing accounts, particularly those of artist colleagues. On the basis of this information, individual works that appeared in the exhibition could be reconstructed, but the exhibition as a whole is a different matter, especially in the way the works interacted and related to each other in the dramatic atmosphere of a space that the artist had specifically sought out and rented. The space as such is of greater significance than in all of his previous exhibitions. Gigantic windows allow the width and breadth of the outdoors, which he sought to incorporate in his open-air projects, to reach into the interior of these spaces located high above New York City. The light plays a decisive role as does the view of the monuments of New York and the river coursing through the life of the city. In Cologne it was the Rhine to which Bollinger committed one of his works; in Vancouver and Long Beach Island it was the ocean. (5) 

“The sun streams brilliantly in the back windows in the morning. So brightly that if I want to read I have to go to the front. Out back I see the Empire State Building lit at night with various empirical schemes, for example it was yellow there for the hostages. Out the front I see the Starrett-Lehigh Building, where was the legendary show of 1970. Starrett-Lehigh either designed or built or both the Empire State also, so I am sort of strung on a clothes line between these edifices”

Bill Bollinger (6)

Painstaking research has brought us close to our goal of compiling a comprehensive and complete history of Bill Bollinger’s exhibitions and the works he showed. All of the facts that have been assembled and almost all of the documents are listed in the Chronology chapter, which is subdivided as follows: exhibition history, studio photographs, documentation of outdoor works and projects, and a survey of the works. The latter is the first attempt to compile a chronological listing of Bollinger’s works and series of works. It also includes brief, descriptive interpretations, which should be understood as suggestions and starting points for further study into the complex subject matter and esthetics of his oeuvre.

In addition, essays, thoughts, and recollections of Bollinger as well as his own writings, aim to place him and his oeuvre in as broad a context as possible. Bollinger’s personal statements are rare; he published only two short contributions to catalogues. These thoughtfully formulated, theoretical remarks are succinct and matter-of-fact; they offer a further insight into his philosophy and the workings of his artistic mind. Crucial to his work-in addition to the involvement of natural forces, tension, gravity, and the use of forms found in nature-is a fundamental inquiry into form. He commits himself to horizontals and verticals on the basis of their neutrality, being interested in their form and not their esthetics: “I have considered my work since then [Rope Piece, 1967) as not 

primarily expressive through form but declarative through state.” (7) And that takes us to the crux of the matter: the state. Is it an aggregate state, a heterogeneous or homogeneous state, a state of balance or imbalance, an enduring or transient state? Laws and systems, elemental phenomena, the properties of nature: these are Bollinger’s concerns. The relationship of matter and energy, the interaction of space and time resonate in his statement. We recognize the scientific motivation of the trained aeronautical engineer.

We have no knowledge of surviving interviews but we did find isolated statements from conversations quoted in articles by art critics. These are reprinted within this publication as headings.

Therefore, apart from Bollinger’s two basic statements, the only clues to the approach he took and to his seminal experiences are the personal notes (8) he kept, in particular while crossing the Atlantic. Remarks on his priorities and his working method in the Notes from Cologne go a long way in explaining the enduring vitality and radicalism of Bollinger’s oeuvre. “The show must be kept simple. Selling work is not primary. The quality of the work is primary, and the quality and coherence of the show is next in im-portance, if possible sales must be sacrificed to this end, that must be done.” (9)

Bollinger’s letters to Rolf Ricke are also illuminating regarding the way he worked and tackled the execution of his pieces. They clearly indicate the confidence that he had in permitting people he had authorized, in this case his dealer, to execute certain works. “Someone told me all the pipe pieces I made have been sold mostly to other dealers. Remember it is always possible to make more of those pieces-that is the whole point of selling them so cheaply. If you can use more of them-just get the material and assemble them-the same goes for the screen pieces.” (10) However, as revealed in a subsequent letter, they had to be executed to his exact specifications. “I received the photo of the screen piece. I am glad to hear you are able to sell one, also that you have made a new edition of the piece. But one thing I must make sure of-is this piece the same as the ones I made over there? It is hard to tell from the photo-but it looks different. It seems to make a sharper curve-to be made of lighter gauge wire. It must be the same same size, same gauge wire, otherwise it is not my piece. Let me know about this and I will send the photo back right away.” (11) The letter testifies to Bollinger’s uncompromising precision and the meticulous execution of his works, no matter how simple. This aspect was of great relevance in planning the current exhibition since it is only possible to consider reconstructing works for which definitive and proven source material is available.

Given the way Bollinger worked, it is not surprising that many of his pieces no longer exist. He often worked on site and the works, or rather their materials, were discarded when the exhibition closed, underscoring the clarity and purity of an attitude that gave priority to implementing an idea over generating material value. This radical reduction originates in an uncompromising concentration of energy on essentials: nothing super-fluous, no unnecessary complications. And yet it was vital to him that his work did not exist purely as a concept or an idea. He valued presence. His works were embodied states. “The work does not exist at all as plan beyond the basic idea. It is all very easy to execute, does not exist until it has been executed, ceases to exist when it has been taken down.”(12) This may well explain why he often first executed an idea in the studio, for instance Cyclone Fence, which he showed in the exhibition Nine at Leo Castelli in 1968. Once a work existed, it could spontaneously exist again in response to another space elsewhere. It is therefore vital to reconstruct his works, for only then do they exist, but to do so they must be selected with utmost care and precision on the basis of the above-mentioned source material.

Bollinger executed many other works, which are now lost or have gone missing over the years. Frequent changes of address did not help and this was compounded by decades of non-presence in the art world. It was therefore a major undertaking to track down collectors and institutions, where works of Bollinger’s have been preserved and might be loaned to the retrospective. 

“I feel ridiculous, selling my work at a gallery … To me a rope is a simple, physical expression of an idea, a way of conveying information. What gives a man power today is not what he has, but what he knows. The gallery system is out of tune with the times.”

Bill Bollinger (13)

We have asked contemporaries-artist friends, colleagues, other friends and relatives, dealers and collectors-to write down their thoughts and memories for us in order to add depth to the little we know about Bollinger and to be able to flesh out the story of his personality and his art from several perspectives. We did not anticipate receiving such a wealth and diversity of contributions. As time passed, the chapter of recollections grew as more and more people who knew Bollinger and were close to him willingly and impressively shared their knowledge with us. Through George Knight Wilson, we learn about Bollinger’s childhood and youth, about his first forays into art and his first exhibitions; we learn more about the latter from Deedee Agee and Dorothy Lichtenstein. Carl Andre, Rafael Ferrer, Robert Huot, Klaus Kertess, Gary Kuehn, Paul Mogensen, Rolf Ricke, and Keith Sonnier have all contributed their memories, establishing a broad and fruitful base for a deeper understanding of Bollinger’s oeuvre, offering insight into his art and detailing the mood and atmosphere of the times. These are eloquently enhanced by the poetic thoughts of Robert Grosvenor, David Novros, and Dorothea Rockburne. Bollinger’s role as a teacher is delineated by his colleague Siah Armajani and his former students Brit Bunkley and Robert Mattson as well as by his former assistant Dale Culleton. Knowledge of his later years comes from David Chittick, Fran Cohen, Ellen Ellison, and Barbara Toll. For years, Egidio Marzona and Wade Saunders have sought to keep Bollinger’s oeuvre from sinking into oblivion. Their texts along with all the others converge into an extremely lively, complex, ramified, and profound picture of this artist’s life and work. With so many voices, contradictions are inevitable and sharpen our awareness of gaps in information that may never be filled.

This applies especially to the biography in the appendix, built brick by brick with the invaluable help of Deedee Agee, David Chittick, Fran Cohen, George Knight Wilson, and Marjorie Wilson.

That this body of work is a significant discovery, that it arouses astonishment, that it continues to be as radical as ever is confirmed by the enthusiastic comments of other artists, who have made more recent acquaintance with Bill Bollinger, largely through the former Rolf Ricke Collection. Ernst Caramelle, Olaf Metzel, and Roman Signer have described their impressions for this monograph with manifest pleasure.

Having happily received permission to reprint two historical essays of 1969 and 1970, we use them to introduce our monograph. Harris Rosenstein’s article is an extremely important source, based as it is on a visit to Bollinger in his studio. In The Bollinger Phenomenon Rosenstein mentions early works that were never exhibited, as well as Torsion Straight Wire and Flat White Paint of 1968; to our knowledge, the latter was executed only in the studio. The article represents the first outline of Bollinger’s work up to 1969 and discusses the relevance of its subject matter in terms of Gestalt theory.

Peter Schjeldahl’s essay is vital to an understanding of Bollinger’s largest exhibition, which he initiated and mounted himself in the Starrett-Lehigh Building in 1970. The detailed review not only enables readers to share in the atmosphere that distinguished the exhibition-down to the sounds of heavy industry heard on other floors-but also describes and analyzes the works on view in great depth.

The article written by Saul Ostrow (14) for this publication situates Bollinger’s oeuvre within the artistic and social context of his day, in a clear-cut exposition that essentially follows the chronology of the exhibitions. Having seen most of Bollinger’s exhibitions and known him personally, Ostrow writes as a contemporary witness. All three essays have the privilege of drawing on the knowledge of works personally seen and experienced in the original. The objective was to assemble as much available information as possible.

“Second day just like the first very warm and placid, dull, actually I took a few pictures of the sea. I wonder if anyone ever took pictures of the sea before. Not of big waves, ships on the horizon, spectacular clouds or sunsets, but just of the plain old quiet, dull, overpowering sea.”

Bill Bollinger’s (15)

Bill Bollinger took the picture reproduced on the cover while crossing the Atlantic from New York to Europe in 1968 to mount his first European exhibition at Galerie Ricke in Cologne. The monotony of the Atlantic, seen in the photograph, conveys a great serenity and clarity that conjures infinity. It is a deeply moving moment, completely untouched by human scale in the depths of space. No perspective, no vanishing point draws the viewer into the picture plane; the margins seem unlimited-it is an elemental moment that partakes of eternity. (16)

When Caspar David Friedrich painted The Monk by the Sea in 1808-10, he broke all the time-honored rules of landscape painting. The painting has no subject matter; while working the artist had removed the sailing boats on the horizon. Friedrich literally wiped the canvas clean until the sky became disproportionately dominant. The monk in the foreground looks small and isolated in the vast landscape. In contrast to Bollinger’s photograph of the Atlantic, The Monk by the Sea looks extremely dramatic, though it was critically described in its day as monotonous. The seas are agitated, the clouds spectacular, and the monk supplies viewers with an identifying point of orientation. That the picture of the Atlantic was important to Bollinger is indicated by the use of it on the poster announcing his solo exhibition in New York’s Bykert Gallery in 1969. From this point onwards water, water levels, and the horizon loomed increasingly larger although the subject matter had already been hinted at in earlier pictures, drawings, and in the Channel Pieces. Rosenstein quotes Bollinger, “He came to think of ground as transparent material-a field of matter or energy, fluid and penetrable, something learned from the sea where this is more apparent.(17)

Bollinger’s oeuvre is buoyed by a fascination with curved spaces, with verticals and horizontals; matter, energy, the universe, and water are crucial. He typically takes an extremely perceptive approach to the simplest materials, whether commercially produced or taken from nature. Every gesture is deliberate, no matter how minimal; the artist has withdrawn almost completely. Bollinger sets his chosen materials in motion letting them find their natural, free form, until they finally come to rest in their intended state.

For Bollinger, materials are not crucial as vehicles of meaningful content—in contrast to other artists, like those of Arte Povera, for whom lead, for example, implies memory; instead, they are crucial as a means of expressing his ideas, his basic questions, and his fundamental concerns. Bollinger allows their specific properties to unfold and, in the process, he incorporates physical forces like gravity, balance, or tension. He may subject his works to great tension or leave them to find their own form. Single elements appear in pure, unmodified form; additively linked elements are usually loosely con-nected. Tensing and relaxing are moments-moments of positive freedom-that characterize his works, making them so pure, so radical, so brittle, and yet at the same time so ephemeral, porous, poetic, and energized. “I do what’s sufficient… There’s no reason to color or polish or bend or weld, if it isn’t necessary.” (18)

***

Why did Bollinger’s radical oeuvre sink into such oblivion? Why did he fall through the net of the system? These questions have yet to be answered.

Translated by Catherine Schelbert.

1. Meyer-Stoll, Christiane. Sammlung Rolf Ricke. Ein Zeitdokument/Rolf Ricke Collection. A Document of the Times. Vaduz: Kunstmuseum Liechtenstein; St. Gallen: Kunstmuseum St. Gallen; Frankfurt am Main: MMK Museum für Moderne Kunst; Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz Verlag, 2008, pp. 231-36.
2.  Judd, Donald. “Specific Objects.” Arts Yearbook, 8, 1965, pp. 74-82.
3. Email of October 1, 2010.
4. The photographs must have been taken relatively soon after installing the exhibition. There are no longer any splashes of water on the floor, but there are still some puddles.
5. See the Log Pieces in the survey of the works, pp. 215-16.
6. From an undated letter to Fran Cohen, probably received on November 2, 1980, p. 74.
7. Quoted from Statement (Droplight), p. 54
8. Bollinger’s correspondence in connection with his exhibitions also contributes to a theoretical understanding of his work. See the chapter Exhibition History.
9. Quoted from Notes from Cologne, p. 59.
10. Quoted from an undated letter to Rolf Ricke, probably sent in fall or winter of 1968, p. 62.
11. Quoted from a letter of April 5, 1969 to Rolf Ricke, p. 63.
12. Quoted from a letter of September 1969 to denek Felix, p. 152.
13. Quoted from “The Avant-Garde: Subtle, Cerebral, Elusive.” Time, November 22, 1968, p. 77.
14. Saul Ostrow no longer had Rafael Ferrer’s color slides of the exhibition in the Starrett-Lehigh Building; these were not found until November 2010.
15. Quoted from Notes from Crossing the Atlantic, p. 57. Regarding the enduring influence of this journey on his work, see also Harris Rosenstein, p. 39 and Gary Kuehn, p. 93.
16. The archaic feel of the black-and-white photograph elicits memories of Genesis: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” (Genesis 1, St. James Bible)
17. See Harris Rosenstein, The Bollinger Phenomenon, p. 39.
18. Bollinger quoted in Howard Junker. “The New Art: It’s Way, Way Out.” Newsweek, July 29, 1968, p. 62