Mihoko Ogaki | www.mihoko-ogaki.com
In her ongoing series of figurative sculptures titled Milky Ways, artist Mihoko Ogakiexplores ideas of life, death, and rebirth. The dead or dying human forms are constructed from Fibre-reinforced plastic and embedded with bright LEDs that when lit project fields of light resembling stars in the surrounding space. You can see many more installation views over on her website.
we’re all made of stars
To the prosthetic person with the plastic pieces
That present a choke hazard to children
And adults alike,
Let Pegasus out.
I know he’s in there.
I can hear him banging a tin can
Against the bars of your rib cage.
I know your heart has horsepower.
Let’s be real here.
No one needs a stethoscope to hear it beat.
Everybody can hear your stampede.
Those aren’t butterflies in your stomach.
That is Pegasus trying to fly.
That is your factory of fantasy.
Your fulgurized larynx
That crystalized lightning.
That song or that story that’s stuck in your throat.
I know it’s scary.
But it’s okay if you never own anything imported
Or be anyone important.
You are more than mere acquaintance material.
You are not just novel.
You are a whole fucking festival of lights.
Spin like Sufis
In your Risky Business best.
Your eyes are geysers.
Your gut is growling.
Silent and violent like a library moshpit,
There is a coup inside of you.
Let it out.
I was just saying how I’d have liked to see you one time before you died.
How seventy-one was still too young.
How I had to fake the grief when my dog and my grandma died,
But not for you.
Now I’m not so sure.
Try as I might,
I can’t imagine Lou Reed the Walmart greeter.
Mr. Walk on the Wild Side cuddled up with two cats named Trebek and Sajak.
The father of punk playing checkers in the park,
Drinking coffee weak like Jay Leno jokes.
From tight pants to loose skin,
Heroin to insulin.
Live fast, live long.
Fold your poems into tiny paper lanterns and send them to the sky.
Light them up and let them go.
Don’t just be a writer.
Be a skywriter
Flying paper planes through restricted air.
Don’t just be an artist.
Be a Styrofoam sculptor,
So that in the event of a flood,
Something you make might keep you afloat.
When people tell you you don’t get gravity,
Tell them no,
It is they,
Who don’t understand
Let your words always be buoyant.
Let them be lifeboats blown up by big lungs of helium.
Hollow their bones.
Let them be brittle
But indomitable dirigibility.
Poetry is for the birds.
And if they must come down
Let them come down
Stuck with little bits of cloud
And miscellaneous sky-stuff.
Let them come down like pillowguts are down.
Let them quilt the ground.
Let them Mother Goose it
And kiss it good night.
Whatever you do,
Just let them be light.
Chris Cobb, an artist based in San Francisco, has created an amazing installation in bookshop called Adobe Books- he catalogued every single one of the 20,000 books by color. The project is titled There is Nothing Wrong in This Whole Wide World. They were arranged by hand over a 10 hour period, and he enlisted the help of 16 volunteers. Such beautiful results, they transformed the bookshop overnight.
Before I die I want to..
"Before I Die" is a project by TED Fellow Candy Chang that asks strangers to share what they most want to accomplish in their lives. Since Candy created the first “Before I Die” wall in New Orleans in 2011, people have installed “Before I Die” walls in 62 countries around the world, including at many TEDx events.
Above, a selection of a few TEDx “Before I Die” installations at TEDxHonolulu in Hawaii, TEDxJerusalem in Jerusalem, TEDxRiyadh in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and TEDxBerkeley at the University of California, Berkeley.
Below, Candy’s 10 favorite “Before I Die” responses, from her interview with the TED Blog:
Before I die I want to…
- be completely myself (New Orleans, LA, USA).
- stare at the stars with the people I love (Pohang City, South Korea).
- own my own ice cream factory (Asunción, Paraguay).
- be a stripper and a nun at the same time (Santiago, Chile).
- see where my grandma grew up (Townsville, Australia).
- have my own theme song (Johannesburg, South Africa).
- overcome depression (Newport News, VA, USA).
- create a typeface of my own (Almaty, Kazakhstan).
- try lots of things (Brooklyn, NY, USA).
- stop being afraid (Jerusalem, Israel).
You’re a hot mess in a sundress
Bikini Kill Barbie I wanna undress.
Talk the kind of poetry make Amanda Palmer get wet.
You’re the kind of potpourri
Smell like cinnamon and sex sweat..
Your evil twin got her picture
On the post office wall,
And you don’t get offended
When I suggest ménage e trois.
Say I may have heard of her,
The manic pixie murderer.
Headspace is hectic.
The style – eclectic
The body – electric
Its language, poetic.
Body language speaks in sonnets and songs
Of eidolons long gone.
Eidolon and you’re gone.
Gone like Roanoke
Gone in a cloud
Of pheromone and clove smoke.