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Gallery (again)
(5) FROM MY WINDOW: Rising (a), 2002 The
first canvas was the "spring passes and one remembers one's innocence"
poem from the back of Season of Glass. The other three canvases were replicas
of the front cover. Like "Rising (b)," they progressively darken, ending
in near-total blackness. I, like other viewers, wondered
how these "paintings" were done... probably through some high-tech photographic
process involving computers, etc. (6) FROM MY WINDOW: Who
has seen the wind? (a), 2002 Another manipulation of the
back cover of Season of Glass. This time, however, Yoko's silhouette on the right
is not shown. Five canvases, each depicting the progress of the window being shuttered.
The shutters on each side of the window are unfolded panel by panel, until the
park and cityscape can be seen only through the slats of the shuttered window. This
reminded me of a scene in the video for the song "Imagine." As John
plays the piano, Yoko slowly and gradually opens the window shutters to let the
light in. Of course, with these paintings the reverse process takes place. I
noticed that one of these canvases was already sold. It was the second of the
five, in which the left shutter is partly folded, leaving the park and cityscape
still mainly visible. I'm sure the buyer bought it simply because it looked pretty. Here
again, the series was not "painted" in the conventional way, but rather
"processed." (7) FROM MY WINDOW: Who has seen the
wind? (b), 2002 This is the reverse of (a). The shutters
progressively unfold to reveal the full park/city view. But superimposed on each
canvas is the identical image of John and Yoko and several other people on a 1971
protest march in support of Oz magazine. John's wearing an Irish cap and speaking
into a megaphone; Yoko's by his side, wearing round, tinted glasses, her hair
pulled back. The marchers seem very animated and lively - like the wind! Behind
the marchers are policemen standing tall and stony-faced. This was my favorite
piece in the exhibit. John, Yoko and the other marchers look like ghosts of history,
part of the winds of change, lost in the winds of time. Very affecting.
West
Gallery
(8) Four Seasons, 2000. This
piece has been already been described in articles and essays found on Sari's website.
My only addition is to report that, later in the day, Yoko explained to Chris
and me the meaning of the piece! Here's my recollection of what she said: Pointing
to the wall showing face photos of six artists whose eyes are blacked out, Yoko
said, "These are real people, but they're blind." Pointing to the opposite
wall showing six pairs of eyes peering out through black, she said, "These
people can see, but they have no voice. She volunteered this information after
hearing Chris and me debating whether the six pairs of eyes were correctly matched
with the eyeless artists on the opposite wall. She admitted that they weren't
necessarily all correlated. (As if she wanted to add a further layer of perplexity
to an already cryptic piece!) With the miniature busts of Stalin in the middle
of the room, I found the whole composition to be an effective statement of social
helplessness in the face of various dictatorships, and of personal helplessness
(and hopefulness) in the face of other oppressions.
Hallway
(9)
Instructions for Photographs, 1961-1971 (this version written by the artist 1997) Anyone
who's studied Grapefruit will see immediately
that most of these seventeen instructions come from the Painting section. The
texts simply replace the word "painting" with "photograph".
For instance, Grapefruit's "Time Painting" is transformed into "Time
Photograph." This demonstrates the interchangeability of media in Yoko's
concept art. In fact, all the "paintings" in the exhibit were probably
manipulated photographs. (10) Portait of Nora, 1992 A
digitalized photograph of Yoko (c. 1971 or 1972).
As
the afternoon wore on, the room filled in anticipation of Yoko's appearance. In
the entry way, a few people upended the pot of sky puzzle pieces (each stamped
'091101'
on one side, but dated 'spring '98' on the reverse) and started putting them together.
(They actually did fit into little squares.)
Yoko arrived
at about 5:30 pm, with Sean and Elliot Mintz, looking fit and much younger than
69. (Or maybe she does look 69 but in a more ideal world.) She
started giving Elliot Mintz a tour of the exhibit, which I unsuccessfully tried
to overhear. Later, she mingled with the crowd, shaking hands, giving autographs,
posing for photos, and explaining her pieces when possible. Finally,
she went to a small room in the gallery space where she continued to sign autographs
and pose for photos for the people who queued up to meet her. Chris and I got
more photos and autographs there. It really was a great day.
Our only regret was that no Yoko films were shown at the opening.
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