Installation and computerized performance for Intersection for the Arts,
San Francisco, CA, 1992
The images and ideas of the exhibition “If I were a pigeon” came during my observation and taking care of pigeons at the California Wildlife Center of Marin as a volunteer for seven years. The installation consisted of seven pieces.
- 1992 : 457 pigeons were accepted at a wildlife rehabilitation facility in 1992. 50% of the pigeons were released. The others did not recover. Candles represented the plight of these unlucky birds.
- 1000 : The number 1000 represents fulfillment of desire within my native Japanese culture. The 1000 wish bones image was created by computer graphic.
- Broken Toes : 9 photographic images of broken pigeon toes
- What I like : Many people feed pigeons bread crumbs. The nutritive value of bread crumbs is minimal in comparison to the grain an seeds: corn, peas, millet, sunflower, flax, buckwheat, alfalfa, wheat that are parts of their natural diet.
- Feed Correct Food for the Bird : The printed text said, “SECTION 486: FEEDING BIRDS AND WILD ANIMALS IS PROHIBITED” Breaking open the bag to feed the hungry creatures on city streets transforms an act of kindness into an act of civil disobedience.
- If I were a pigeon : A computer graphic (38”x23”) combining a pigeon and the artist’s faces.
- If I were a pigeon : A performance with a blind pigeon. The movement of the pigeon created a shadow play and sound through the mechanical system.
*Computer programming: Richard Reed
*Engineering: David Nelson
Artweek Review
Goto’s If I were a pigeon , at Intersection for the arts, features installations that transform the artist into an urban bird. In her translation of the plight of these often unwanted city creatures, Goto sets up an eerie parallel to the homeless humans of American’s metropolitan areas.
When Goto approaches her thematic material in a way that might be construed as exacting or scientific, the effect is calculated and clinical. In What I like , a series of jars featuring such contents as birdseed, water and gravel, or 1992, rows of birdseed piles alternating with candles placed on thin planks that symbolize the log of an animal rehabilitation facility, almost nothing is left to the viewer’s interpretative imagination. Feed Correct Food for the Bird , a sculpture that incorporates a basket full of seed bags labeled with a city ordinance that states “feeding birds and wild animal is prohibited,” humanize the cosmopolitan wildfowl, as does 1000 , a series of multiple computer images of wishbones, and If I were a pigeon , an electronic portrait that melts the artist’s face with that of a bird. The interplay of identities of person and pigeon conjures up a disturbing analogy with the other fellow urban “pest” – the homeless. The effect is chilling
By Reena Jana
Artweek, March, 1993
Rats with wings? This artist beg to differ
Yes, they are messy. Who doesn’t dread that unexpected slat while riding on a ferry or sitting on a park bench? But artist Reiko Goto, a woman of limitless compassion, has taken lowly pigeons under her wing.
She has even erected a shrine to the common birds at Intersection for the Arts, a San Francisco gallery.
Goto grew to love pigeons while working at the California Marine Wildlife Center. Last year alone the center took in 475 injured or abandoned baby pigeons. “During summer, the pigeons, they don’t have any place to go, and that means they have to euthanize pigeons,” she says.
To rescue them, Goto welcomed the birds into her warehouse home. What the heck, she already has tree frogs and other small birds; and summers she baby-sits opossums and young squirrels. She used to take care of laboratory rats.
“I’m interested, always, in living things, especially animals and insects that live close to humans,” Goto says. “Some people might change a little their notions to see the pigeons. They might learn something, some different things they have never thought about.”
One wall of the gallery is lined with narrow shelves. Logs denote where Goto found a pigeon, its condition and its release date. There is a pile of birdseed if the bird lived; a snuffed-out candle if it didn’t.
Photographs point out prime pigeon hangouts – Civic Center, Chinatown, Japantown, and their all-time favorite, Union Square. The “What I Like” display informs visitors that pigeons couldn’t care less about dried Wonder Bread – they prefer grains.
Little seed packets are offered to go, sealed with a copy of a San Francisco ordinance that prohibits feeding any wildlife, including pigeons. “Many, many people feed pigeons on the street, but you could be arrested,” Goto says.
Opening night, he blind pet pigeon, Oedipus, stole the show with a musical performance. He scooted across a synthesizer keyboard, mixing up bars of the song “Feed the Birds” from “Mary Poppings.”
A computerized portrait fuses Goto’s face with a pigeon’s. “The notion of the pigeon is very negative,” she says. “But I am Japanese. In a way I believe after I die I might become a plant or insect, or bird. I might become a pigeon, too.”
Karen Hershenson
Calendar, February, 1993
Two Pigeons
During the summer of 1995, my husband and I were working on the Anchorage Program in Brooklyn, which was organized by an art organization called Creative Time. We were staying at Hano Ahrene’s studio at Hudson and Spring in Manhattan. I stayed there from June 17 to July 15, but Tim was there a little longer.
On July 5 th we were walking towards Soho, and I saw a pigeon in the middle of parking lot right across from Hano’s studio. It was already dark, and very few cars were there. I went near the pigeon to check whether it was injured or not. The pigeon could move, but it didn’t fly. A couple of hours later the pigeon was still there. Why was the pigeon all alone during the night? Why didn’t it fly? Was it sick? If it were sick, what could I do? I could not answer these questions. I also felt that if I rescued the bird, it might put stress on Tim. Construction was taking place near by, and I saw rats running around. I was worried the pigeon would be harmed.
I asked Tim about the pigeon. “The pigeon might be very ill, and waiting to die. But don’t you think it deserves a better death than to be attacked by rats? Don’t you think Hano’s studio will be a better place than the parking lot for the dieing pigeon?” Tim said he would be willing to help catch the pigeon, so we brought an old blanket to the parking lot to catch the bird. But it was not necessary, because the pigeon did not panic as we approached it. I set a milk crate up side down to create a temporary cage. The pigeon was placed in it with water and birdseed. The next morning the pigeon was still alive. I checked him carefully in the morning light. He still had a baby voice, but was fully grown. His feathers were oily, but there were no lice on the wings. The pigeon was not eating a lot, but pecked sporadically at some seed. We soaked dry dog food in water, and force-fed him morning and evening. The bird was calm, and got used to us very quickly. I felt we could release him soon.
The Anchorage Program had an exhibition opening. Joan Bankemper, one of the artists in the Anchorage Program, told us that her pit bull found a baby pigeon in her piece medicinal garden. Joan tried to find the nest, but she could not find one nearby. She asked us about the other pigeon, and if we wouldn’t mind adopting the new one. This pigeon was smaller, darker, and more nervous than the other. I didn’t mind taking care of two pigeons, but our schedules were complicated. I had to go to San Francisco for a week to install the next show. Tim was driving to Cape Cod to see his parents and sister’s families, where they had rented a summer-house near the beach for a of weeks. I could not imagine how Tim could take care of the birds without bothering his family. I had three days to help the birds adjust to living together. If one had a contagious disease such as Trichomoniasis or Coccidiosis, it would be wrong to put the two birds together in a small cage. I had good tablets for Trichomoniasis at home in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but not in New York.
A week later Tim picked me up at Boston airport and drove to Cape Code. The two pigeons were doing well together. Tim’s family was very kind in allowing us to have the pigeons in the middle of their vacation. We talked about where to release them. We considered releasing them in Brooklyn on the way home, but Harry, Tim’s father, suggested that winter might be milder in Rhode Island, and pointed out that many pigeons live by the old mill grounds in his neighborhood. A few days later we went to Tim’s parents’ house in West Warwick, Rhode Island. The place was surrounded by woods, which was probably an unusual location for pigeons. We opened the cage to let the pigeons go with the expectation that the pigeons might not leave immediately. In the mean time we planned to support them by providing food and water. We were surprised to find out they didn’t fly at all. When the sun became hot, they stayed under the bushes, and ate and drank water from the dishes. In the evening, they came to the screen door, so we had to put them in the cage in the house during the night. They were very comfortable being in Tim’s parents’ yard and house. Every day, they stayed in the yard, walking around like ducks, and came back home in the evening. Sometimes, we tossed them in the air to see how they could fly. I noticed the older one was not doing well, but the younger one became bigger and stronger. I also felt as though the younger one was taking care of the older one. I told Harry I would mail some tablets for the pigeons when I got home.
Every weekend Tim’s parents would tell us about how the pigeons were doing. A few weeks later we heard that the older pigeon was caught by a cat. After the incident the younger one still hung around, and a neighboring pigeon started visiting. Tim’s parents went to travel, and when they came back the pigeon visited them once, but after that it stopped coming.
Reiko Goto 1996