On this day, 92 years ago, February 18, 1933 (January 24, 1933 in the lunar calendar), Yoko Ono was born. Yoko Ono was born Yoko Ono (Japanese:? YokoOno Lennon, February 18, 1933-now 86 years old) was a Japanese-American musician, avant-garde artist, and the second wife of John Lennon. She was born into a wealthy family in Tokyo. Her ancestors were Museu Ono, an important minister of Tachibana Munege. In Japan, her name, like other Japanese people, is usually given Katakana. Akira Ku said. Her family moved to New York when she was 14. In the early 1960s, she had widespread influence in literature, philosophy and film creation, and became an important representative figure of the Mountain Dew School. In 1970, she published the famous poem "Grapefruit" and directed the films "Apotheosis" and "FLY"(also translated as "The Fly "). She is good at creating artistic events, breaking people's habitual thinking, and making people question the existing worldview. John Lennon once described his wife as follows: "The most famous but least known artist in the world: everyone knows her name, but no one knows what she did." In the late Beatles era, she collaborated with John Lennon on their first work, called "Two Virgins," and later formed the Plastic OnoBand and went on to collaborate on many musical works, all of which were very different from the Beatles. Yoko Ono was born How did Lennon meet Yoko? John: I'm sure I've told you many times. How do I know Yoko? There is a group of underground cliques in London: John Dunbar, who married Marianne Faithfull and opened an art gallery called Indica 86 in London. During my vacation between recording, I occasionally visit some art galleries. I once saw an exhibition by Takis--I don't know if you know what it is--and he does a kind of multimedia electro-magnetic sculptures. I have also seen some exhibitions, as well as exhibitions of works by unknown authors or underground artists in different art galleries. I heard news that there was an incredible woman preparing for next week's exhibition, and I heard that there would be people in bags, black bags, and there would be a show like an incident. I went to see the preview the night before the opening, and I walked in-she didn't know who I was, she didn't know anything-and wandered around in it, and there were some artistic students in the art gallery helping set up, and I saw what they were doing and was shocked. There was an apple there for two hundred pounds, which I thought was wonderful-I understood the sense of humor in her work instantly. I didn't need to know much about avant-garde or underground art before, but this sense of humor immediately caught my attention. There is a fresh apple on the shelf-before Apple was founded-and you have to pay two hundred pounds to watch it rot. But there was another work present that made me decide whether to like or hate the artist: a ladder that leads you to a painting hanging from the ceiling above, which looks like a black oil painting, with a chain hanging over there with a magnifying glass at the end. This piece was right where I came in from the door, and I climbed up the ladder and looked through the magnifying glass and saw a row of very small letters that said yes, so it was a very positive meaning, and I was relieved. It's a real relief because you climb up the ladder and you see through the magnifying glass a "yes" instead of a "no" or a "fuck you" or something like that, and it says "yes." I was so impressed by it that John Dunbar introduced us-we didn't know each other, she didn't know who I was, she had only heard of Ringo, which I think means apple in Japanese. John Dunbar seemed to be urging her to speak. He said,"This is a good patron. You must go and talk to him and do something." I was waiting for someone to take action, expecting an accidental incident or something. John Dunbar insisted that she say hello to the millionaire, and then she came over and handed me a little card that said "breathe", which was one of her instructions, so I started...(panting hard). This is how we met 88. Then I left. The second time I met her was at the Art Gallery of Claes Oldenburg's opening exhibition in London. We were very shy and just nodded at each other. We didn't know-she was standing behind me and I looked somewhere else because I was very shy when dealing with people, especially when there were girls around. We just smiled at each other at the cocktail party and froze. The next time she came to me, she was looking for sponsorship for the show she was doing-just like all asshole underground artists. She gave me a copy of her book "Grapefruit". I often pick it up and read it. Occasionally, I find it annoying to read something written in it, such as "paintuntilyoudropdead" or "bleed"; But sometimes I feel very inspired. From her works, I have also experienced the transformation that people have experienced in her works-occasionally I put it on the bedside of the bed and open it to read, and it talks about something good, which I think is quite good: sometimes when it comes to some heavy things, I don't like very much, but it's all like this. Then she came to me to sponsor the show, which was the Halfa Wind Show. I gave her the sponsorship fee, and the show--it was at an art gallery called Lisson, another underground venue. Everything in the entire exhibition was cut in half: half a bed, half a room, all half. All were beautifully cut in half and painted white 89. I asked her,"Why don't you put the other half in a bottle and sell it?" She immediately understood what a game it was and did it-before we entered into any engagement-and we still have the bottle from that exhibition, which was the first time I've been involved in anything like this, and this work was presented in a "Yoko plus Me" way-it was the first time we had publicly collaborated, and I didn't even go to the exhibition, I was so nervous. When did John realize that he was in love with her? John: Here's what happened at first: I would read her books, but I wasn't quite sure what was happening to me, and then she did something called "Dance Event", and all kinds of cards were brought in from my door every day with the words "Breathe","Dance" and "Watch all the lights until dawn", making me suddenly annoyed and happy, depending on how I felt at the time. I am very annoyed by this intellectual stuff and the whole damn avant-garde art, sometimes I like it, sometimes I don't like it. Later, after Maharishi and I went to India, we still maintained correspondence. The content of the letter is still very serious, but there is already some room for ambiguity in the letter. Like I said, I was almost taking her to India, but I wasn't sure what reason to use, and I was still deceiving myself that it was for some kind of artistic reason, some kind of reason. After returning from India, we chatted with each other on the phone. I called her over, and it was midnight and Cyn 90 was not there, so I thought,"Well, if I want to get to know her better, it's time." She came to my house, and I didn't know what to do, so we went upstairs to my recording studio, and I played her the tapes I had made, all the crazy weird stuff, some comedy stuff, and some electronic music. There were very few people who could let me play the tape to them, so she was naturally moved and said,"Hey, let's make something ourselves." So we recorded TwoVirgins (31). It was midnight when we started recording TwoVirgins, and when we finished recording, it was already dawn. So we had sex at dawn, and it was really beautiful.