Seemingly elusive, some artists abandon the field of identity and establish themselves in a different, fascinating and necessary land. Isamu Noguchi, a Japanese-American sculptor, architect, landscape architect, designer, and set designer, is just one such artist, who worked in every possible material, from paper to bone and cement, and travelled and lived all over the world. He set up a number of different studios in the areas key to his biography and inspiration – the USA, the Mediterranean, and Japan – only to unceasingly self-displace to explore, synthesize and deterritorialize, as Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari would have it. The displacement was, however, inversely proportional in distance to how decisive the move was for his creative and existential parabola, when in 1961 Noguchi moved his studio from frenetic Greenwich Village, Manhattan’s artistic and bohemian centre, where the Sixties counterculture was getting into gear, to the then-remote and dilapidated Long Island City in Queens – today, a hyper-gentrified neighbourhood with the highest density of artistic spaces in NYC. Noguchi found a warehouse whose vast open spaces were perfect for working on large-scale sculptures, big enough to install a living space too. In 1974, he purchased the triangular, red-brick corner building on the opposite side of the street to use as a future museum space. As the project expanded, Noguchi took over the adjacent gas station, razing it to the ground and replacing it with an entrance pavilion and indoor/outdoor gallery, transforming the courtyard into the sculpture garden that is today the complex’s flagship space. He transformed this derelict terrain vague, strewn with garbage and debris, into a landscape creation of the calibre of the Garden of Peace at the UNESCO Palace in Paris, or the Billy Rose Art Garden at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.