YOKO ONO, MUSIC OF THE MIND
I can, in being drawn to reflect upon what life had been like for those that were obliged to live in ‘London’ during the halcyon era of the 1960’s, distinctly remember an account given by my mother of her first introduction to the capital’s multi-facetted scheme following her graduation as a fashion student from ‘Newcastle University’ in 1964.
She had, with regards to such a matter, managed to secure a job as a seamstress working within the vicinity of ‘Regent’s Street’ in ‘Mayfair’, a location which, in having betokened an association with the clothing industry during the ‘Victorian’[ era, was ostensibly where many students wishing to enter the rag trade were observed to begin their careers.
My mother had, to my knowledge moved to ‘London’ with my father who was, upon having been awarded a scholarship by the architect ‘Misha Black’ at ‘Newcastle’, similarly noted to have originated from the North East and had, through association with her vocation, managed to find lodging relatively close to the city’s centre, a site on which she was, to her merit, noted to have remained for the following five years before moving to larger premises in ‘Kilburn’ some distance to ‘Mayfair’s’ North West.
Although itself unremarkable, being associated with the general influx and distribution of people throughout the city’s scheme, the location in which my mother had lived prior to her move was, in this instance, observed to have been very close to the ‘Beatles’’ recording studio in the basement of ‘No 4. Savile Row’, a pretext beneath which she was, whether by accident or design, effectively perceived to find herself at the centre of the cultural wind change which was noted to have affected the fulcrum of popular taste in ‘England’ during the nineteen sixties.
My mother was, with regards to such a matter, in fact perceived to have been something of a ‘Beatles’ fan during her period of tenure at ‘Savile Row’, charting the band’s rise to fame beneath the management of ‘Brian Epstein’ through it’s period of experimentation with new recording technology under the supervision of ‘George Martin’ at ‘Regent’s Sound’ in ‘Denmark Street’ before finally bearing witness to the group’s disintegration in 1969, when, at the height of it’s renown, it’s experimentation with both drugs and Indian religion inevitably imploded, sending shards of counter cultural residue forth from it’s heart in commemoration of what it was that popular culture had then come to represent.
My father had, in being called to pronounce an opinion upon such matters, always said that he preferred ‘The Rolling Stones’ to the ‘Beatles’, there were quite a few ‘London’ based bands around at the time, the ‘Kinks’ and the ‘Who’ to name but two, and espousing preference with respect to such an issue was, in keeping with the tribal distinctions exemplified by the ‘Mods’ and the ‘Rockers’ throughout the period, essentially considered to be conducive to both social engagement and the formalities of courtship.
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Such things had happened some years before my birth, an instance in which the ‘Beatles’ had effectively split up by the time that I was borne, their exploits having long since been conferred to legend throughout the first years of my life, although I can, in this instance, nonetheless distinctly recall being enjoined to sing the lyrics of ‘The Yellow Submarine’ at ‘Berrymede’ nursery School in ‘Acton’ when I was very young.
Although the ‘Beatle’s’ cohesion as a group was effectively at an end by 1969, each of the four musicians who had constituted the band’s membership were nonetheless observed to have fashioned solo careers for themselves, an instance in which both ‘Paul McCartney’ and ‘Ringo Starr’ were, in fearing the subversive connotations that counter-culturalism may be imagined to entail, noted to have referred back to many of the industry standards which had initially been perceived to send them forth where both ‘George Harrison’ and ‘John Lennon’ were contrarily drawn to speculate upon the potential which counter-culturalism could harbour, falling away from the mainstream in efforts to extend their repertoire among hitherto untrammelled preserves.
Taking the ratio of divergence that may be perceived to apply to such a thing into respect, by far the most interesting and tragic of the ‘Beatles’’ solo ventures was, in this respect, noted to have been that of ‘John Lennon’, an escapade which, in appearing largely self perpetuated, was witnessed to have courted the event of both political intrigue and drug fuelled excess before being cruelly apprehended approximately twelve years after it had begun by it’s protagonist’s assassination at the hands of a deranged ‘Beatles’ fan named ‘Mark David Chapman’.
I must confess that, with regards to the exact context of the many events which were ultimately to lead to ‘John Lennon’s’ death, I was, at the time, a little too young to appreciate the various schools of controversy which had found occasion to arise in the event of the musician’s earlier departure from the mainstream, although I can clearly recall that both my mother and a number of her friends were visibly moved by the affair, an instance in which the recording artist had, whether by accident or design, effectively become one of a kind through association with his decision to diversify.
Taking such a series of events into consideration, I gradually became more closely acquainted with the musician’s solo work during my teens, ‘John Lennon’ had, despite bearing witness to an absence of media attention in the decade following his death, effectively managed to retain a degree of popularity among counter cultural circles and would occasionally appear on playlists accompanied by the work of other artists at social gatherings and parties.
With regards to modern mass media, that was, unfortunately the way which things seemed to be by the time that I had come of age, the obligations of the industry to determine the dictum of it’s historic immediacy seeming to far outweigh it’s audience’s convictions to persist in the perpetuation of old standards, a pretext beneath which the notion of controversy and any censorship to which it may be imagined to ascribe, seemed oddly antiquated.
There was, in effect, too much information replete with it’s quota of pre-packaged significance readily available in a utilitarian sense upon a daily basis and one was instead compelled to voluntarily filter it out.
Irrespective of such an observation, I was, if only in an antidotal capacity, still compelled to feel an attachment to the music that my parents had liked during their youths and resultingly became acquainted with many works from ‘John Lennon’s’ back catalogue of songs, a process through which I correspondingly learned that the musician’s ‘Japanese’ widow ‘Yoko Ono’ was, in being perceived to have remained active as a visual artist after her husband’s demise, occasionally inclined to stage exhibitions at art galleries in both ‘Europe’ and ‘America’.
Through association with such a revelation I was, in recently having found an opportunity to scan the internet for details pertaining to forthcoming events in ‘London’, resultingly delighted to discover that ‘Yoko Ono’ was both still active and presently in the process of organising a major review of her work at ‘London’s’ ‘Tate Modern’ art gallery, a sizable venue which, in proposing to exhibit one of the largest collections of it’s type ever staged, would represent a relatively comprehensive oversight of the many matters that were perceived to ascribe to it’s peculiar realm of incident.
Entitled ‘Music Of The Mind’, after a show of the same name staged in ‘Liverpool’ at the height of the ‘Beatles’ fame in 1967, the exhibition was, upon being witnessed to feature a selection of displays requiring the participation of audience members in a number of unusual activities also noted to include a collection of items which had been preserved in ‘John Lennon’s’ posterity, including excerpts of film footage and pieces of art with which he, himself, was noted to have inter-acted during the 1960’s and 70's.
Promptly contacting a friend who was also interested in the ‘Beatles’’ music, I duly booked a couple of tickets for the show and waited eagerly for the exhibition to commence it’s run, it was not often that one had a chance to collude in the events which had served to determine one’s parents generation and the exhibition promised to put many of the details that may be imagined to ascribe to such a thing into a degree of perspective.
The ‘Antipodean’ film director ‘Peter Jackson’ had, with regards to such a matter, recently been observed to have compiled an eight and a half hour long cinematic documentary which referred to many of the topics covered in the show, a tale that, in being stitched together from pieces of restored reel footage featuring the band playing together in both ‘Savile Row’ and ‘Twickenham’ directly before it’s decision to part company was ostensibly observed to cover the hiatus of it’s fame, and the prospect of witnessing the sphere of event to which the film’s detail ascribed first hand would effectively serve to place such a thing into historical context.
Within a matter of weeks the exhibition opened and I correspondingly made my way into ‘London’, catching a ‘Network South East’ train into ‘Waterloo’ from ‘Feltham’, a destination from which it would, if my estimations were correct, be relatively easy to patrol the ‘South Bank’ out towards the ‘Tate Modern’ art gallery by ‘London Bridge’ and view the show.
Arriving at my destination in the early afternoon, I waited for some minutes marvelling at the curiously twisted asymmetry of the ‘Blavatnik’ building in the courtyard behind the old power station within which the gallery’s larger aspect was situated before my friend finally arrived and dutifully accompanied me into the display hall.
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Upon crossing the exhibition’s threshold my attention was immediately drawn to an excerpt of slow motion black and white film footage describing the ignition of a match against the side of a matchbox, a clip which, upon being screened in conjunction with a spoken greeting from ‘Yoko Ono’, was effectively perceived to serve as an introduction to the show.
Entitled ‘Film No. 1 ‘Match’, the footage was, in it’s distinction, recorded to have been inspired by one of the many arcane instructions listed in ‘Yoko Ono’s’ book ‘Grapefruit’, a text which, in being observed to have been written by the artist in 1955, ten years before most of the other exhibits displayed at the show were initially conceived, served, in it’s manner, to predetermine the instruction based format which served to distinguish much of her subsequent work.
The instructions listed within ‘Grapefruit’ were, in being of a largely metaphysical nature, noted to have become something of an acid connoisseur’s bible when the book was ultimately rediscovered by counter-cultural circles during the early 1970’s, an instance in which most of it’s requests were, in being of a plainly fantastic contrivance, effectively impossible to achieve.
One could, in keeping with the predictions of the great nineteenth century humanist poet ‘William Blake’, effectively set forth to build ‘Jerusalem’ upon green and pleasant land’ or ascend ‘Mount Sinai’ to polish one’s grapefruit in a park with regards to such a matter. Though time may move through strophes of light and darkness, things need not, in effect, be so bad. It was just a question of how to lend them voice. “Who would disagree ?”
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Reading through the information relating to the display I discovered that, in having been born in ‘Japan’ in 1933, ‘Yoko Ono’ had, at the age of twelve, been forced to flee ‘Tokyo’ during America’s ‘Doolittle Raid’ upon the city at approximately the same time that ‘Hiroshima’ was being bombed to it’s West, an event which, in circumstantially determining the preliminary phases of a promising academic career as a student of both philosophy and music at ‘Sarah Lawrence College’ in ‘New York’, was effectively witnessed to set the pretext for what was later to become the staunchly anti militaristic stance adopted by much of her work.
Continuing through the exhibition hall my attention was distracted by a bottle of water suspended with string over a dark circle which, in being made of denim, had, from what I could deduce, been cut away from another piece of denim that lay on the ground beside it, a composite of two works which in respectively being entitled ‘Waterdrop Painting Version 1.’ and ‘Painting To Be Stepped On’, surely possessed some form of veiled significance which I had yet to appreciate, a pretext beneath which I was granted an opportunity to speculate freely upon the many distinctions which may be perceived to arise in wheat and chaff, and how the type casting of such a thing could, in effect, come to represent a purpose unto itself.
Walking through to the gallery’s next instalment of displays, I found an opportunity to interact with a number of sound recordings taken with the assistance of the brilliant avantgarde musician ‘John Cage’ courtesy of a bank of headphones attached to a wall.
Renowned for having pioneered the usage of micro tones in music by attaching paper clips to piano strings, ‘John Cage’ was, alongside ‘Geoff Maciunas’, ‘David Tudor’ and ‘Lamonte Young’, noted to have collaborated regularly with ‘Yoko Ono’ on the many recording projects which both the ‘Plastic Ono Band’ and the ‘Fluxus Movement’ were witnessed to have undertaken during the 1970's.
Casually turning to face the wall opposite the bank of headphones, I incidentally found occasion to notice a collection of black cotton bags which were, in being observed to have merited cross reference within the lyrics of ‘Lennon’s’ popular protest anthem, ‘Give Peace A Chance’, noted to have been used as artistic props by those wishing to engage in intimate ruminations upon abstract themes from within their confines.
Although originally interactive, the display, entitled ‘Bag Piece’ was, as far as I could deduce, reserved solitarily for display purposes in the instance of the ‘Tate’s’ venue, although the idea of wrapping and emergence in the name of peace which was embodied by the exhibit was, in effect, perceived to play a recurrent theme throughout the remainder of the show.
Cursorily turning to face the room’s far wall, my attention was, with regards to such a matter, immediately directed towards another excerpt of reel footage entitled ‘Cut Piece’, a short film in which ‘Yoko Ono’ was witnessed to be seated on the floor of a stage as a number of different people incidentally cut ribbons of cloth from her blouse, a process of gradual denudement in which the artist was, like a ‘Renaissance’ model, effectively perceived to retain an impassive demeanour at all times.
I was, in this instance, unable to deduce whether or not the short film was intended as a metaphor for transcendence in the face of adversity, although I was aware that it had, like many other articles in the show, effectively become a relatively well known standard among art house circles by the turn of the 1970's.
Continuing slowly through the exhibition hall, I was immediately struck by the oppressively minimalistic character of many of the articles placed on display, an attitude which, in appearing to stand in stark contrast to virtually everything that the ‘Beatles’ were perceived to have represented during their period of fame, seemed, upon first impression, to represent something of a contradiction in terms, a general sense of anathema which, although interesting, would, in effect, premeditate the destruction of any delusion that people of my parents generation may find occasion to entertain with regards to what it was that their cultural palate had initially been perceived to represent.
Being arch protagonists of flower power and free love, the ‘Beatles’ had, in this instance, always betokened association with art, painting their ‘Rolls Royces’ with ‘Paisley’ patterns and decorating their jackets with ‘William Morris’ style embroidery, but , although undeniably artistic, ‘Yoko Ono’s’ work appeared, in many ways, to embody the antithesis of much of what could be said upon such issues, dismantling it’s stockpile of naive preconceptions wherever they may find occasion to arise so completely that this appeared to be her objective.
The effect appreciated by much of the art on show was, in this sense, rather like a ‘Grand Guignol’ swab applied to the epic conventions of a graphic novel, a chance to elaborate freely upon the themes of psychosis and depravity as more orthodox heroism ran through it’s motions to the rhythm of a drum.
Although cowering obstinately and recalcitrantly in the light of more approachable things, one could, in effect, not easily take ‘Yoko Ono’s’ work for granted, there were layers of significance with regards to such a thing which would, without her efforts, perhaps never withstand appreciation. Art was the tormented flip side of mass entertainment, a reality placed before yet greater art.
The effect was interesting, but unsettling, not something that the variety of hardcore ‘Beatles’ fan who would be likely to attend the exhibitions may be willing to concede easily, and many would, barring the event of sudden perspicacity, leave the show feeling marginally offended.
Having said this, the next part of the exhibition was, although still markedly minimalistic, noted to be slightly more optimistic than it’s preliminary phase, a distinction delineated by the introduction of colour photography into it’s scheme with footage of ‘John Lennon’ cradling a guitar whilst singing ‘Give Peace A Chance’ before an audience of seated hippies.
This was when ‘Lennon’, having decided to settle in ‘New York’ after having married ‘Yoko Ono’ in 1969, was repeatedly threatened with deportation by ‘Richard Nixon’ through association with what was then ‘Washington’s’ stance towards the prevalence of student protest on ‘U.S.’ college campuses , a pretext beneath which, after having been denied ‘American’ citizenship for five years, the musician was eventually noted to have been granted the right to proceed as he wished through until the event of his untimely assassination four years after having established premise.
There was, with regards to such a matter, a number of instantly familiar set pieces on display, including excerpts of footage from ‘Film No.4 Bottoms’, a short film which, in being observed to have been patched together from stills taken of a number of celebrity’s buttocks, was noted to have been banned through association with indecent exposure, a step ladder similar to that which ‘John Lennon’ was filmed ascending in 1966 when he first met ‘Yoko Ono’, a room filled with objects that, in having been sawn in half, was circumstantially perceived to resemble a ‘Vincent Van Gogh’ painting and an intriguing battery of white chess sets for those unsure who should make the first move when commencing a game.
There was, within this section of the show, also noted to be a number of interactive displays which allowed people to participate in simple actions such as hammering nails into wall mounted boards, shaking hands through pierced canvases and describing the outlines of their friend’s shadows on walls placed before a light projector, instalments which would, in their fashion, presumably grant a given audience, some insight into the creative processes that may be imagined to be invested in minimalist art, an instance in which such things were, upon exemplifying engagement, in fact, perceived to be largely instantaneous.
Moving forward to the exhibition’s next bank of displays, a short arcade of stalls which was again equipped with a battery of headphones, I was incidentally granted an opportunity to watch ‘Yoji Kuri’s‘ ‘AOS’, a short animated film which, in being noted to feature a sound track composed by ‘Yoko Ono’, appeared, in many ways, to be texturally contiguous with the design schematic that had served to distinguish the ‘Telegoons’ television show in the early 1960’s.
The comic actor ‘Peter Sellars’ had, in this instance, been perceived to have known the ‘Beatles’ personally, and the manner of stylistic flourish which had served to typify the ‘Goon Show’ was, with respect to the exhibition’s artistic context, the direct precursor to full blown psychedelia.
After some moments of indecision as to which display I should alight upon next, I found myself standing in a darkened auditorium watching a short film describing what appeared to be the predatory attentions of a fly scampering across a naked woman’s genitals, an excerpt of footage which, in meriting any act of censorship that may hitherto have been applied to ‘Bottoms’, appeared through association with what was then a rising climate of ambivalence with regards to such matters, to have escaped the censor’s knife.
The ‘Summer Of Love’ had come and gone, widening boundaries as to what may or may not be possible in the field of visual art and one had effectively needed a fairly open minded sense of humour to appreciate certain things unabashed.
Moving casually on to the next series of displays, I found myself standing in a whitewashed room containing a rowing boat, an instalment which, in being entitled ‘Add Colour (Refugee Boat), was perceived to present the various members of the company who had found occasion to attend the show with one of two shades of blue marker pen, an offering which was effectively intended to be applied to the purposes of leaving a piece of graffiti in the wake of visitation.
Perhaps the most visually impressive instalment at the show, the amount of graffiti which had been left upon both the walls and floor of the chamber, had, by the time of my arrival, already managed to appreciate the semblance of an uninterrupted body of water, a pretence beneath which, upon closer investigation, many of the inscriptions were, in their distinction, noted to have been drafted by people who betokened affiliation with a number of politically sensitive concerns that had appeared recently in the news, there being messages left by both ‘Ukranian’ immigrants and members of the ‘Palestinian’ protest group ‘Hamas’ present on the walls alongside a tide of other more endearing sentiments.
The political implications of free love and universal harmony were, with respect to such a matter, surely beginning to take their toll.
In keeping with such an observation, the next series of items placed upon display bore a markedly militaristic pretext, an instance in which a pane of glass pierced with a bullet hole entitled ‘A Hole’ was perceived to vie for floor space with ‘Helmets’, a roof mounted mobile composed of army hats filled with fragments of jigsaw puzzle which the exhibition’s attendees were ostensibly free to take home with them.
Although the realities of conflict were, with regards to such a matter, essentially observed to be something of a truism which would, to all intents and purposes, demand no further explanation, the many ideas which may circumstantially be devoted towards the topic of armed dispute were comparatively wide ranging, fragments of a larger scheme that, whether right or wrong, could go some way towards explaining the rudiment of their quota when placed before the prospect of it’s ultimacy.
Moving swiftly through to the exhibition’s last display, an instalment that in being entitled ‘My Mommy Is Beautiful’, was observed to present the show’s attendees with the opportunity to leave a note describing any sentiment that they may circumstantially feel inclined to espouse towards their mothers upon a wall, an invocation which, in appearing to be popular, had, in the interim between the show’s commencement and my visitation, found occasion to festoon the room with hundreds if not thousands of observations pertaining to the issue that had been placed before debate.
Concluding with an excerpt of film footage depicting ‘Yoko Ono’ garbed distinctively in a black robe and a black ‘Trilby’ as she performed a piece of music entitled ‘Whisper 17’ on stage at the ‘Sydney Opera House’ in 2013, the exhibition was, in having been observed to have taken something of a scenic route through the backwaters of the human subconscious, finally obliged to refer back to the musical pretext which may, within reason, be perceived to have served as it’s motive spur.
I was with regards to such a matter, largely unacquainted with the melody which the artist had chosen to sing in this instance, although like many of the items which had been placed on display, it appeared to consciously grate against most of the commonly sustained conventions which may be observed to ascribe to such things, it’s invocation to ‘imagine’ and to ‘whisper’ appearing, in many respects, to have been strained through a haze of fly drone which lilted insistently in it’s background to unsettling effect.
Having watched the performance, I slowly turned to leave the exhibition hall in efforts to find a seat at ‘The Founders Arms’ along ‘Bankside’ for a commiserative drink with my friend.
It had, in effect, been both an interesting and enlightening afternoon, but by the time that I had left the gallery, it was early evening and I was compelled to confess that I was relatively tired, an instance in which I would undoubtedly find time to collate my thoughts regarding the details of the show in the event of my return back home.
Curated by ‘John Studzinski’ in collaboration with ‘Dusseldorf’s’ ‘Kunt Sammiung Nordrhein-Westfalen’ art gallery, the ‘Tate Modern’s’ ‘Music Of The Mind’ Exhibition is scheduled to run until the first of September 2024 and, for those interested in both counter-culturalism and the gradual metamorphosis of pop music into the punk rock which served to distinguish the cultural predilections of those that experienced the 1970’s first hand, comes highly recommended.
For More Information Please Contact…
tate.org.uk
