Yoko Ono's Wishing Tree Holds a Ripe Orange

I'm writing from notes made April 27, 2007, made during a visit to the Getty Center in the Santa Monica Mountains, Los Angeles, California. The Getty had a scholarly exhibition of Japanese cultural artifacts at the research institute on the campus: Art, Anti-Art, Non-Art: Experimentations in the Public Sphere in Postwar Japan. Covering the period from 1950 - 1970, the exhibition closes June 3, 2007. Yoko Ono emerged out of this period of ferment, and the Getty realized her artistic prescription, "Wishing Tree, with Yoko Ono's permission.

I hope someone enjoys eating that single orange when it detatches and falls from its interior limb. Why can't I be the one to pluck it, peel it and partition it into sections now, and consume its juicy sections, sucking them dry and peeling off the membrane, swallowing the pulp? The docent who offers the opportunity of filling out and attaching a wish tag to the orange tree's full limbs might be the one who busts me should I act on my wish and harvest, grabbing and twisting. I could write this urge as a wish to be hung upon a limb: save the orange for me. Who would read the request before the orange falls and how would the museum notify me to come and collect the orange?

When the limbs are full, is the tree retired, planted in a garden and a new one brought out? What are done with the wishes? Are they harvested and disposed of in a landfill, or are the wishes read aloud in a ceremony, given the privilege of being recorded on tape?

I kept observing the wishing tree as I wrote on a pleasant cafe table amongst the travertine deck's well-trimmed sycamores. Students ride the tram up to the Getty deck, bringing their books to read until the generous 9:00 PM closing time. Soon, a pair of art docents rolled out a cart, and began clipping the wishes from the limbs. The docents carefully placed the wish requests into a paper 11 * 8.5 envelope.