Isamu Noguchi, The Garden (Pyramid, Sun, and Cube), 1963
Hewitt University Quadrangle (Beinecke Plaza)
Wall Street between High and College Streets
If hell has its pit, then Isamu Noguchi designed one for another place. It is usual to forget — walking through Beinecke Plaza — that there is an opening to wonder just in front of the honeycomb rare book library. But in the late morning light, the precise hollow cut into the pavement contains a sun clock for some other dimension, or a suspended calendar that keeps past time in the present.
In his own discourse about what he called this “garden,” Noguchi betrays a literalism about its elements — the circle of the sun; the rolling of the dice — that registers as both obligatory and unconvincing. But this is an eccentric model for a solar system, like pieces from an immense orrery — one of those 18th century machines made to mimic the universe — broken and scattered on some abandoned city square.
Recently, some segments of the pyramid were removed to allow inspection of the supporting structure. Watching the workers pry the piece back into place was like having the world snap once more into order after what was, after all, only a temporary disarray.
Those standing above can see what the cloistered intellectuals in their subterranean carrels cannot. For those at their studies, it is merely a prohibited patio. But we can look down at geometry’s zoo, wondering when the animals will make a break for it.
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