Lucie.

Stage Manager, Actress, MUA, Photographer and general Cat Person. I play Cora in NMTD and drink far too much Ribena. I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine.

asylum-art:

Isamu Noguchi (1904–1988)

© The Isamu Noguchi Foundation and Garden Museum, NY

Noguchi did not belong to any particular movement, but collaborated with artists working in a range of different mediums and schools.  He created stage sets as early as 1935 for the dancer/choreographer Martha Graham, that began a lifelong collaboration, as well as for dancers/choreographers Merce Cunningham, Erick Hawkins, and George Balanchine and composer John Cage.  In the 1960s he began working with stone carver Masatoshi Izumi on the island of Shikoku, Japan, a collaboration that would also continue for the rest of his life, and from 1960 to 1966 he worked on a playground design with the architect Louis Kahn.

When given the opportunity to venture into the mass-production of his interior designs, Noguchi seized it.  In 1937 he designed a Bakelite intercom for the Zenith Radio Corporation, and in 1947, his glass-topped table was produced by Herman Miller.  This design—along with others such as his designs for Akari Light Sculptures which was developed in 1951 using traditional Japanese materials—are still being produced today.

In 1985 Noguchi opened The Isamu Noguchi Garden Museum (now known as The Noguchi Museum), in Long Island City, New York.  The Museum, established and designed by the artist, marked the culmination of his commitment to public spaces.  Located in a 1920s industrial building across the street from where the artist had established a studio in 1960, it has a serene outdoor sculpture garden, and many galleries that display Noguchi’s work, along with photographs and models from his career.

Noguchi’s first retrospective in the United States was in 1968, at the Whitney Museum of American Art, in New York City.  In 1986, he represented the United States at the Venice Biennale.  Noguchi received the Edward MacDowell Medal for Outstanding Lifetime Contribution to the Arts in 1982; the Kyoto Prize in Arts in 1986; the National Medal of Arts in 1987; and the Order of Sacred Treasure from the Japanese government in 1988.  He died in New York City in 1988.

This scene in Inglourious Bastards, this particular part, was so brilliantly written. The characters are playing a game where you sit in a circle and write a famous person’s name on a card, flip it over, pass the card to the person next to you and stick it to your head without looking. Then you ask everyone questions to figure out who it is. This man- a Nazi commander- asked “Am I American?” (no but..) “Have I visited America?” (yes) “Was my visit fruitious?” (no) “Did I go against my will?” (yes) “Am I from a place you’d call exotic?” (yes) “Am I from the jungle?” (yes) “Did I go by boat?” (yes) “And when I got there was I bound with chains and presented in front of a crowd?” (yes!) “Well then. I know who I am. An African slave. No? Oh then I’m King Kong.” — and in one instance the viewer realizes the metaphor which King Kong was to the African slave trade (a truly Tarantino way of inserting social awareness through dialogue spoken by social oppressors) as well as takes a moment of almost comic relief to a very strange middle ground since we see just how intelligent and foolproof this man is. This is good filmmaking. 
This scene in Inglourious Bastards, this particular part, was so brilliantly written. The characters are playing a game where you sit in a circle and write a famous person’s name on a card, flip it over, pass the card to the person next to you and stick it to your head without looking. Then you ask everyone questions to figure out who it is. This man- a Nazi commander- asked “Am I American?” (no but..) “Have I visited America?” (yes) “Was my visit fruitious?” (no) “Did I go against my will?” (yes) “Am I from a place you’d call exotic?” (yes) “Am I from the jungle?” (yes) “Did I go by boat?” (yes) “And when I got there was I bound with chains and presented in front of a crowd?” (yes!) “Well then. I know who I am. An African slave. No? Oh then I’m King Kong.” — and in one instance the viewer realizes the metaphor which King Kong was to the African slave trade (a truly Tarantino way of inserting social awareness through dialogue spoken by social oppressors) as well as takes a moment of almost comic relief to a very strange middle ground since we see just how intelligent and foolproof this man is. This is good filmmaking.