The cover art for Yoko Ono’s Season of Glass could be one of the most famous photos of the 20th century, but somehow isn’t. It shows the glasses pulled off John Lennon’s face after his assassination in December 1980, the left frame opaque with dried blood. Next to them is a glass of water, with a misty view of Central Park in the distance. It was taken in January 1981, from the Dakota building apartment Ono and Lennon shared. When the album was released in February 1981, the cover was widely condemned as in bad taste – almost as bad as making a record so soon after he died (it was her highest-selling record to date).
I’ve been thinking about the photo for a day now, and I’ve noticed telling questions sliding into my mind. Did she save the glasses knowing she would take this shot? Was it real blood? This is the Yoko phenomenon: decades of suspicion, putting Lennon’s lover under the microscope in an attempt to prove she a) broke up the Beatles on purpose, and b) cashed in on Lennon’s death, and has been ever since the ultimate professional widow. Perhaps, in the photo’s composition, is her commentary on her role in the Beatles story: if Lennon was bigger than Jesus, she was the Devil, and here was the holy relic – my piece of him, while you got yours. Downstairs at the Dakota, fans sang Lennon’s songs in a constant vigil, making it hard for her to leave. Maybe she set out to repulse. The photo is exploitative, but it is art. The artist mindset can feel alien – and to everyone apart from Lennon, Ono was an alien too.
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