The hidden message behind the Noguchi Museum

The distant noise of cars and the crunch of the pebbles as people walk through the courtyard are all that you can hear, a far cry from Manhattan.

Standing in the cloistered courtyard of the Noguchi museum makes you feel like you could be anywhere, and that's exactly what Isamu Noguchi, a famous artist of the 20th century, wanted.

In his autobiography, a sculptor's world, Noguchi wrote that the move to Long Island City was motivated by the “freedom from inhibiting factors, real or imaginary,” releasing “a tide of creation.”

Why mention this? Because to understand the work of Noguchi, you need to understand the purpose he gave to the building where he produced and kept these works. It changes your perception of his work and life.

A factor in Noguchi's move from Manhattan was the economic boom of the 1950s. During this time, stone yards all along the East River were closing, meaning Noguchi found stone “at a much cheaper rate,” according to Max Kirsch, Curator of Research and Digital Content at the Noguchi Museum.

However, what’s become clear, is this was only a side factor.

Noguchi's move to Long Island City allowed for a “monastic” way of life, with less “distractions that came with being in Manhattan,” Kirsch added.

This vision Noguchi shaped over experience gained from “all different schools of art, and the realization that he didn’t belong to one of them,” explained Luned Palmer, a museum educator, who works at the museum.

Although he originally owned a studio across the street, he later purchased the building where the museum now lies. The museum opened its doors to the public in 1985, after 13 years of careful construction to ensure it fit his vision.

Palmer believes that this drawn-out process of “taking a factory and all its minimalistic bits is Noguchi.”

His work tries to capture “the modernity and prehistoric in one,” which, in the opinion of Palmer, he did to great effect and is shown in the simplistic nature of the museum.

But, sadly, “Noguchi was always looking for home,” said Palmer.

His father being Japanese, and his mother American, certainly played a factor in his “increasingly complex identity,” as referred to on the Noguchi website. A complex only added to by his consistent traveling throughout much of his life.

However, the courtyard of this unique museum suggests he found his home.

The courtyard is dominated by a Japanese Katsura tree, with most of his works sheltered underneath. Its significance? Noguchi planted it 40 years ago.

Barbara Leven, an assistant at the museum, explained the tree as being of “major significance” to the overall message Noguchi wanted his art to portray.

Noguchi's move from Manhattan was motivated by far more than rocks. It was to find a space and a home. It is only by exploring the real incentives for the move that you notice Noguchi's intention is still delivering, 34 years after his death. An intention described by Palmer, to make “people feel like this is their place.”