The museum was pretty boring, like a fifth-grade history book — lots of official seals and timelines. I had been excited to see Yoko’s exhibit. I do like her wish trees
I get that Yoko Ono’s thing is this kind of pure simplicity, like
But taken all together in one small white room it felt very kindergarten-ish. There were pieces of broken pottery you could fix, But instead of the gold used to mend broken pots that she was referencing, there was just clear packing tape and brown twine. The low table provided added to the kindergarten feel. I didn’t even take a picture of the people involved in that activity because I felt embarrassed for them.
There was a room with screens depicting Nobel Peace Prize winners. You were supposed to be able to touch the screen and the name and a short bio would pop up, but it just wouldn’t work for me.
It just flashed lights on the screen, along with the other LED lights that were giving me a headache. There was one particular guy who looked sooo familiar and I was so frustrated trying to identify him. seriously, who is this guy on the left???
Who am I????
The frustration plus the headache finally got to me and I flounced out, declaring, “Fuck all these people!”
A guy with a Norwegian accent said in English, “Oooh, I think somebody is tired.”
Later, Bob would randomly inquire, “Fuck Nelson Mandela? Really??? Fuck Mother Teresa?”