"Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!" - unam.

with the artists from time to time as they visited the companies. Since they knew I was
fairly good at explaining things to people and I wasn't a complete jackass when it came to
art (actually, I think they knew I was trying to learn to draw) ­­ at any rate, they asked me
if I would do that, and I agreed.
It was lots of fun visiting the companies with the artists. What typically happened
was, some guy would show us a tube that discharged sparks in beautiful blue, twisting
patterns. The artists would get all excited and ask me how they could use it in an exhibit.
What were the necessary conditions to make it work?
The artists were very interesting people. Some of them were absolute fakes: they
would claim to be an artist, and everybody agreed they were an artist, but when you'd sit
and talk to them, they'd make no sense whatsoever! One guy in particular, the biggest
faker, always dressed funny; he had a big black bowler hat. He would answer your
questions in an incomprehensible way, and when you'd try to find out more about what
he said by asking him about some of the words he used, off we'd be in another direction!
The only thing he contributed, ultimately, to the exhibit for art and technology was a
portrait of himself. Other artists I talked to would say things that made no sense at first,
but they would go to great lengths to explain their ideas to me. One time I went
somewhere, as a part of this scheme, with Robert Irwin. It was a two­day trip, and after a
great effort of discussing back and forth, I finally understood what he was trying to
explain to me, and I thought it was quite interesting and wonderful.
Then there were the artists who had absolutely no idea about the real world. They
thought that scientists were some kind of grand magicians who could make anything, and
would say things like, "I want to make a picture in three dimensions where the figure is
suspended in space and it glows and flickers." They made up the world they wanted, and
had no idea what was reasonable or unreasonable to make.
Finally there was an exhibit, and I was asked to be on a panel which judged the
works of art. Although there was some good stuff that was inspired by the artists' visiting
the companies, I thought that most of the good works of art were things that were turned
in at the last minute out of desperation, and didn't really have anything to do with
technology. All of the other members of the panel disagreed, and I found myself in some
difficulty. I'm no good at criticizing art, and I shouldn't have been on the panel in the first
place.
There was a guy there at the county art museum named Maurice Tuchman who
really knew what he was talking about when it came to art. He knew that I had had this
one­man show at Caltech. He said, "You know, you're never going to draw again."
"What? That's ridiculous! Why should I never. . ."
"Because you've had a one­man show, and you're only an amateur."
Although I did draw after that, I never worked as hard, with the same energy and
intensity, as I did before. I never sold a drawing after that, either. He was a smart fella,
and I learned a lot from him. I could have learned a lot more, if I weren't so stubborn!
Is Electricity Fire?
In the early fifties I suffered temporarily from a disease of middle age: I used to
give philosophical talks about science ­­ how science satisfies curiosity, how it gives you