Moon Pieces

#37—Conceptual art, the power of words and Yoko Ono.

Welcome to Mind Flexing, your weekly thought expedition to everywhere and anywhere. Strap on your boots (or put your feet up), take a deep breath, and let’s get flexing.  

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Imagine the clouds dripping.
Dig a hole in your garden to
put them in.

1963 spring

—Cloud Piece, by Yoko Ono

How does this work of art make you feel as it unfolds in your mind? What colour are your clouds? And how do they drip? In long oozing lines, or tulip-shaped drops? Is it big, the hole you dug in your garden? Did you use a spade? Is there sunlight?

Ideas can be beautiful. They can be equally as harrowing. And words wield the power to take us to each of these destinations and the spaces between.

When we think of writing as an artform, we most often think of the story, the characters, the rhythm of the words and their lyricism. And while it’s widely accepted that the writer loses control of their words the moment they’re gifted to the people, the art that takes place in readers’ minds is rarely incorporated into the original work.

This is what makes Yoko Ono’s work as a conceptual and performance artist, the ‘High Priestess of the Happening”, so intriguing. She exposes how art needn’t be a material object. It’s the ideas—the ‘happenings’—that trigger the creations. She says:

“What I’m trying to do is make something happen by throwing a pebble into the water and creating ripples… I don’t want to control the ripples.”

We are the ripples.

For writers, Ono’s work with words is particularly inspiring. Her book Grapefruit, first published in 1964, is a book of instructions that can be completed by the reader either through action or imagination. (Imagination. Imagine. We’ll come back to that word.) At the time, the book performed poorly and Ono resorted to giving copies away from fruit crates on the streets of Tokyo. It wasn’t until John Lennon turned up to one of her art exhibitions two years later, setting in motion one of the most famous love stories of the modern era, that people began to take a greater interest in her work, although not necessarily for the right reasons.

Cloud Piece, water colour sketch by Alia Parker

It's easy to look back in hindsight and see the influence Ono had on Lennon’s work as a solo artist during the period of their relationship. But it wasn’t always appreciated or recognised. Even Lennon himself failed to credit Ono for co-writing his most famous song Imagine, which was released in 1971. The instruction-like lyrics and its conceptualisations are characteristically Ono and divergent from Lennon’s former works. Yet it took 46 years to have Ono formally attributed as a co-writer. In the end, the addition of her name wasn’t controversial in the least because Lennon had admitted the omission in a video recorded by the BBC in 1980. He said:

"[Imagine] should be credited as a Lennon-Ono song because a lot of it— the lyric and the concept—came from Yoko. But those days I was a bit more selfish, a bit more macho, and I sort of omitted to mention her contribution. But it was right out of Grapefruit, her book. There’s a whole pile of pieces about ‘Imagine this’ and ‘Imagine that.’... But if it had been Bowie, I would have put ‘Lennon-Bowie,’ you see… But when we did [Imagine], I just put ‘Lennon’ because, you know, she’s just the wife and you don't put her name on, right?"

But it wasn’t right, and Lennon came to know it. Ono was immensely happy to have her name added as co-writer of the song in 2017 because she’s always considered Imagine to be one of her greatest works. In many ways, her relationship with Lennon, their collaboration as artists, and the creation of Imagine was her ‘happening’. It’s the ripple that spread from the moment she first put pen to paper to write Grapefruit.

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people living life in peace

—Excerpt from Imagine, by John Lennon and Yoko Ono

The images and concepts that form in the minds of readers and listeners are an art unto themselves. They are what connects us with art, allowing a work to enter our individual worlds. And Ono reminds us to celebrate this. We too can throw pebbles into that pond of imagination.

Let’s throw a pebble right now.

Moon Pieces

Crumble the moon in a bowl.
Mix with water and cinnamon then
shape into nine pieces
and bake.
Place them in the sky.

—by Alia Parker

What art formed in your mind? I’d love for you to share your thoughts in the comments.

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Things I’ve enjoyed on Substack this week

• Short Story Club: Kafka—by

  M. E. Rothwell

  A great way to get the mind flexing is with this short story by Kafka and the insightful collective analysis in the comments.

• Expanding My Definition of Self on My 60th—by

  Don Boivin

  A beautiful reflection that invites us to re-examine the definition of ‘I’.

• How to return to your life—by

  Kate Bown

  There are many adventures in life and Kate shares her greatest yet.

  

Etymology Monday

It appears this week’s word may perhaps still be considered vulgar as it was the worst performing Etymology Monday since inception. It’s been interesting to observe. I promise to take you out of the sewer next week.

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