Jim Henson Exhibition at Brisbane's Gallery of Modern Art Celebrates Puppetry Legacy

It’s said that celebrities are often shorter than you might expect when you encounter them in person. The opposite is true of the Muppets.

“That’s the quote of this show,” says Amanda Slack-Smith, curator at Queensland’s Gallery of Modern Art (Goma), where “Oh, it’s bigger than I thought it would be!” has become a catchcry among the Goma crew installing Make, Believe, Magic: The Worlds of the Jim Henson Company.

As we stand in awe of Big Bird and Mr Snuffleupagus – those gentle giants of childhood naivety from Sesame Street – it’s easy to see why. And maybe it’s my imagination, or the transportive power of whimsy unleashed, but I swear Snuffy just winked at me.

Several years in the making, this joyous exhibition celebrates the unmatched genius of Jim Henson: writer, director, artist, puppeteer and creator of the Muppets. It features more than 500 objects – puppets, props, costumes, photos, sketches, storyboards and more – sourced from the Jim Henson Company’s extensive archive, plus several other US institutions.

Taking in the breadth of the company’s 70-year history, the exhibition charts not only Henson’s career, cut short by his unexpected death in 1990, but the body of work produced by his heirs, both literal and spiritual, who carry the torch for puppetry, animatronics and practical effects into the digital age.

Occupying Goma’s entire ground floor, the exhibition stretches over three realms, exploring the making, performance and possibilities of puppetry, respectively. As Slack-Smith guides me through the first rooms, it feels like, wherever you look, some fuzzy face returns your gaze.

Old pals like Grover and Elmo beam from their plinths, while lesser-known monsters and oddballs (for example, the creepy-cute cast of Jim Henson’s Turkey Hollow, a Thanksgiving special from 2015) also get their time out of the archive and into the spotlight.

A decent handful of these puppets have never been displayed before. “This is the only second time that Snuffy’s been out of the US,” Slack-Smith says. When I ask how a sir of Snuffy’s length – 13 feet from trunk to tail – is transported from New York to Brisbane, she grins: “It’s a mystery.”

Another hulking highlight shipped across the Pacific is Fraggle Rock itself. The subterranean set of Fraggle Rock: Back to the Rock – the 2022 reboot of Henson’s original 1980s series – sprawls across one room. We stroll from Doc’s workshop to the Gorgs’ garden to the Fraggles’ cavernous Great Hall, where every nook and cranny is seasoned with details from both iterations of the show.

The Goma press release describes the exhibition as “immersive”, a term I’d assumed was marketing hyperbole. But as I follow Slack-Smith into Boober’s Cave, the Fraggles’ clean laundry hanging overhead, I genuinely feel the temperature drop.

More importantly, this isn’t just a site for fan service and photo opps. It’s designed as a working set, reconstructed at the elevated height screen puppetry requires, with live feeds running to interactive vision mixers, and a platform where patrons can try their hand at the demanding craft.

“It’s meant to feel like everyone’s gone to lunch and you get to have a bit of a play,” Slack-Smith says, leading me behind the scenes, literally, to the back of Fraggle Rock. “You can actually see how they build the sets. Some of it’s hand-carved, some of it’s cast. You can see where it’s had a life, because it’s been used on multiple seasons and specials.” She points to some G-rated graffiti – “Mokey for President!” – scrawled by puppeteers on the back of the set.

“Puppeteering is an ancient art form,” the curator continues as we head into the next room. “It’s used for storytelling, and there’s something about mediating through a third party that means you get to have conversations that are hard and tough. But you get to relax into it. Puppeteering as an art form is integral to how we move through life.”

Moving away from the hand and rod puppetry of the Muppets, the exhibition also explores the animatronic innovations of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, particularly in feature films. Henson’s own works, like The Dark Crystal (1982) and Labyrinth (1986), are well represented, alongside titles to which the company has contributed all manner of lifelike animalia. I spy Duchess the cat from Babe (1995) and a pigeon from The Producers (2005). “Thirty-five years since Jim’s passing,” Slack-Smith says, “they’re still this really dynamic, vibrant company doing incredible work.”

Some of the animatronic specimens have been stripped back to expose wires, gears, levers and eyeballs; the sense of the uncanny can’t be ignored (in abject contrast to the warm-fuzzy familiarity of Bert and Ernie). But in our current era of CGI screenscapes – increasingly diluted by AI corner-cutting – it’s marvellous to look upon physical, material, tangible evidence of screen culture.

“We’re living in a time when everything’s slipping and sliding,” Slack-Smith says. “You feel like you’re in an ocean, the sand’s coming out from under your feet, and you’re just trying to work out what’s real.”

This renders Make, Believe, Magic much more than a simple nostalgia trip. It’s a timely reminder that the most affecting art is made not by algorithm or prompt, but by human hand and heart.

Covering seven decades of the Jim Henson Company’s output, the exhibition is definitely comprehensive. Unless your favourite Muppet is Angus McGonagle (the Argyle Gargoyle who gargles Gershwin gorgeously), you’re highly likely to find them here – with a few exceptions. Some visitors may note the conspicuous absence of headlining Muppets including Fozzie Bear, Gonzo the Great, and that eternal diva Miss Piggy. Since 2004, those characters have been owned by the Walt Disney Company, not the Jim Henson Company. Works by the latter are the clear curatorial focus here, though some select puppets – including the world’s most famous frog – have made their way over from the House of Mouse.

At the time of my visit, the Goma crew is busy putting the finishing touches on the show. The visiting puppet wranglers from Henson have worked their magic posing the characters and flown back to the US (boy, are their arms tired). Some of the lights are yet to be lit (or, rather, dimmed); the music is a symphony of drills, hammers and cherrypickers.

But controlled chaos is the Muppet way: an eclectic team pitching in to get the curtain up on time. Slack-Smith, the Kermit of the crew, seems unfazed. “I’ve got a theatre background. So, for me, working with the crew and putting this together is fun, when you’re running towards one creative outcome.”

And despite the occasional ladder and drop sheet, her vision is clear: “I want people to have a better understanding of puppeteering, of character and performance – but also to embrace the joy.”