Since 1903, members of Arts and Letters have delivered commemorative tributes to fellow members who have passed away. These remarks celebrate and reflect on the lives and work of the members being honored and acknowledge their contribution to the arts. A selection of tributes is now available in the digital archive below. As we prepared this archive, we were reminded that these tributes reflect their times, and, in some instances, include terminology and social and moral judgments we do not endorse.
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He’s up there somewhere—at least I hope so. I think he’s up there because he loved the sky. It seems few people have traveled such distances by air as Isamu—I'd like to think of him as Daedalus. But unlike Daedalus, who fled from Crete to the mainland, lsamu flew innumerable times to his cherished destinations—Japan, India, Italy, Greece, and of course the United States, because he loved to explore, live, and create. And like Daedalus he was a great inventor and craftsman.
My own personal and earliest encounter with this poet of sculpture was many years ago. It was as a student in the 1940s that I walked into the Egan Gallery, where he was having an exhibition. I was instantaneously stunned by the contrast between the lightest of materials—balsa—and the heaviest—stone—my life was transformed, although I wasn't to know it at the time. This was one of the first galleries I ever visited as a war veteran, with great hopes, starting a new career in art. How fortunate I was to have experienced Isamu Noguchi's work so early in my new career.
What was Isamu’s world? It was a world of work, places, and friends. The work—the serene, yet hidden power of the stones, ever intriguing imagery—conceals the intensity, the nervousness, and energetic intelligence that created them. And yet, the unexpected, dramatic, flamboyant, and breathtaking use of water in some of his fountains had never before been imagined.
Though Isamu had traveled worldwide, and across this country, his main bases were always New York City and Shikoku, Japan—with frequent stops to India and Italy. It was in Italy, where I had made my home; in Rome that I got to know him well—and because of my foundry experience I was able to assist him in casting into bronze those early balsa wood pieces which I remembered so well as a student; it equally excited me to see them transformed into the heavier, classical material—bronze.
I felt he was particularly happy in Pietrasanta, where he enjoyed the warmth and openness of the Tuscan stonemen and also enjoyed and welcomed the special joys of a Mediterranean culture. And of course, there was the stone, the intriguing stone, to be selected, carved, and loved.
While Italy had its delicate marble and colored stone, it was in Japan where he discovered the igneous granite and volcanic basalt. It was overwhelming to see the huge blocks of stone stored near his samurai house in Shikoku—where I was fortunate to have been his guest. It was here that one becomes aware that stone was really his métier—from the Cycladic wall which he built, to the raised hill and stage area where he had hoped performances would be given—to the stone shop where his dedicated carvers worked with great affection for their master. What a contrast to Daedalus's use of paper and bamboo, to create those intriguing forms that became the ethereal light sculptures. It was also here that I was shown the hangarlike building holding several granite and basalt sculptures that is to be Isamu’s museum in Japan.
Perhaps it was Isamu’s understanding of stone, spaces, and gardens that attracted Gordon Bunshaft to invite him to work together on several major projects. For the most part it was an uneasy relationship, but it produced some of the most outstanding public spaces—or imaginary landscapes—in this country, such as the Connecticut General Life Insurance Company, the Chase Manhattan Plaza, and the Beinecke Library at Yale.
Of course there were many other important works here and abroad: the Rose Museum in Israel, the public piazza in Bologna, the UNESCO garden in Paris, the bridges in Hiroshima, the Detroit Civic Plaza and fountain....
Early friendship with Martha Graham produced some of the twentieth century's most ingenious and inventive stage settings and costumes. This collaboration stimulated his deep interest in mythology and early primitive cultures. His continuous creative search and curiosity brought him into close contact with poets, composers, writers, and thinkers of his time.
One was always impressed by his features, which were an attractive amalgam of the East and West—and his slim, strong, athletic figure—moving rapidly. It was his searching eye and curious mind that were appealing. He talked quickly, quietly, almost in short bursts—always fascinating with wonderful insights. His wit was also sharp and quite often cutting! He demanded a great deal from his friends, and they responded because they loved him, and his genius.