"Noguchi's Monument to Mankind: A One-Mile Nose Job That Only Aliens Could Love"
Bold Concepts or Bold Delusions?
Tim and LeeAnna's Effigy Press Alchemy podcast kicks off with the usual TGIF vibes and a promise to "mint a few new writers"—because who doesn’t love a fresh, shiny writer right out of the mold? But today, they’re going extraterrestrial, or at least, Tim is hinting at it. He’s practically giddy over something that involves “terrestrial and extraterrestrial” influences and a mysterious "face." No, it’s not his own mug—thankfully. Instead, we’re talking about a photo of a sculpture that Tim insists is the most fascinating piece of modern art you've never heard of. And it’s got more names than a celebrity baby: “Sculpture to be Seen from Mars,” “Monument to Mankind,” or “Memorial to Man.” Apparently, naming was the least of Noguchi’s problems.
The photograph reveals a sand sculpture—size: small enough to sit on your desk, but with ambitions bigger than Elon Musk's Mars fantasies. Noguchi’s dream? A face so massive, with a nose a mile high (yes, you read that right), that it could be spotted from Mars. Because, sure, if humanity wipes itself out, what better way to say "we were here" than with a giant stone schnoz? And who knows, maybe the aliens have telescopes that make ours look like dollar-store binoculars. It’s bold, it’s bleak, and frankly, it's a bit bonkers.
The Sad (and Sadder) Story of the Not-So-Jolly Green Giant
Tim is all in on the emotions this sculpture stirs—loneliness, shock, grief. If you’re into contemplating the end of mankind, this is your jam. As LeeAnna puts it, it’s like the last emo anthem of Earth: “We're here, and no one else is. Probably because we messed everything up.” Apparently, this whole one-mile-high project was Noguchi’s way of saying, "Hey, aliens! We were here, but we couldn't keep our act together." And just in case that wasn’t depressing enough, Tim doubles down with some backstory.
Noguchi was going through the rough patch in 1947—death of his father, breakup, starving artist struggles. You know, the kind of stuff that makes you wonder if it’s all worth it. So what does he do? Naturally, he designs a monument to humanity's demise. A fun little reminder to all of space that Earth was once home to a species that self-destructed. Not quite the “We come in peace” message, huh?
LeeAnna, ever the optimist, clings to her knowledge of Noguchi’s coffee tables. Those sleek mid-century designs that scream "I’ve made it!" Apparently, this is where she checks out of the misery train and into design heaven. But the parallels are hard to miss: just like most writers’ lives, Noguchi’s work was more setback than success, more struggle than stardom. The only difference? Most writers don’t dream of sculpting their heartbreak into mile-high monuments.
From Zero to Hero: Noguchi's Surprising Comeback
Now, here’s where things take a twist that even the most imaginative sci-fi writer might struggle with. For 30 years, Noguchi's monument to human misery was forgotten—until space travel fever gripped the 1970s, courtesy of Star Trek and moon landings. And suddenly, people are seeing faces everywhere—including on Mars. That’s right, in 1976, Viking One snaps a photo of a rock formation on Mars that looks suspiciously like Noguchi's "Monument to Mankind." A mesa, about 800 feet high, just chilling on Mars, looking back at Earth like, “Remember me?”
LeeAnna is over the moon (or should I say, over Mars) about this. Because what’s better than aliens? Space! Aliens and space? It’s practically her birthday. Tim, on the other hand, plays it cool. The face on Mars might look like a long-lost Noguchi sculpture, but let’s be real—it’s just a rock. Still, it’s enough to catapult Noguchi from obscurity to fame. The Denver Art Museum plastered the face all over its walls in a 1978 exhibition, and Noguchi finally got the recognition he deserved—albeit 30 years late and with a little help from outer space.
A Monument for the Morbid (and Writers)
Tim wraps things up by offering a bit of advice for writers (and artists, I guess) out there: embrace the bold, the outlandish, the mile-high noses of your imagination. Maybe your work will be ignored for decades, maybe it’ll take an alien conspiracy theory to bring it to light—but hey, it’s all part of the creative process, right? He invites writers to think about what drives them to bold concepts. Is it the desire to leave a mark, even if it's just a giant nose in the sand?
Meanwhile, LeeAnna is pondering what symbol she'd want to be remembered by. She’s leaning toward something faith-related, but who knows? After all, there’s no telling what future aliens might think when they stumble upon our remains—or our BBQs, if LeeAnna's alien-glamping and Tim’s alien-zoo theories are anything to go by.
So, here’s to Noguchi, the starving artist who aimed for Mars. And here’s to the writers (and aliens) who might just be crazy enough to follow in his footsteps.
The Snark
Official podcast name: "Alchemy... from Effigy Press" (don't forget the ellipsis, folks)
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