Night Wind
Titles are not-done in abstract art. The dogma says that we should see for ourselves. The exploration of the unknown may be difficult without a clue and some background information, so museums usually provide text as well, but precise words narrow things down, while silent images are open to any connotation.
Isamu Noguchi was not hindered by this dogma. He gave his sculptures beautiful titles, poetic phrases like 'Night Wind' that open new vistas. A piece of black basalt, endlessly caressed by steel tools, rests on a wooden pedestal. We see traces of origin. The twists in stone and wood make it alive.
It reminds me of the Japanese 'Torii (gates to a holy place) and - perhaps quite the opposite - the sword of the samurai. Are those personal connotations in conflict with Noguchi's title? I don't think so. Our fingers cannot grasp the 'night wind', our eyes are unable to see it. Yet, it is real. We can hear the wind at night, we can feel it, we can dream it up in stone.
Night Wind
Titles are not-done in abstract art. The dogma says that we should see for ourselves. The exploration of the unknown may be difficult without a clue and some background information, so museums usually provide text as well, but precise words narrow things down, while silent images are open to any connotation.
Isamu Noguchi was not hindered by this dogma. He gave his sculptures beautiful titles, poetic phrases like 'Night Wind' that open new vistas. A piece of black basalt, endlessly caressed by steel tools, rests on a wooden pedestal. We see traces of origin. The twists in stone and wood make it alive.
It reminds me of the Japanese 'Torii (gates to a holy place) and - perhaps quite the opposite - the sword of the samurai. Are those personal connotations in conflict with Noguchi's title? I don't think so. Our fingers cannot grasp the 'night wind', our eyes are unable to see it. Yet, it is real. We can hear the wind at night, we can feel it, we can dream it up in stone.