"That
critic who said Rivers
and Tides 'could have
been half as long,' what
was he going to do with the
time he saved? Go shopping
at Safeway? A
fast food joint?" -- Sylvie, my partner
"Time travels in divers paces with divers persons." --As You
Like It, III, ii, 304.
Andy Goldsworthy
regards all his creations
as temporary. He photographs
each piece once right
after he makes it. His
goal is to understand nature
by directly participating
in nature as intimately
as he can. He generally
works with whatever he
notices: twigs, leaves,
stones, snow and ice,
reeds and thorns.
Goldsworthy
fine-tuning an arch of
slate.
THE PHONEY FOG in Casablanca was designed to hide the cheap airport,
shroud the plywood plane...not to create the romantic atmosphere we
all associate with the cinematic classic's ending. (1A)
Ending? Real fog comes and goes, transforming what it will, enveloping
as it sees fit...and terminating, tweaking much to give us fits...under its
enchanting cover.
Careful planning doesn't make art happen. Meticulous consideration --while
it has its place-- certainly doesn't guarantee a thing in Nature. And
what endures (and what tsunamis away* without warning or sign of sympathy)
is contingent upon...what can't be labeled, verbalized or anticipated.
We're always trying to clear away the Fog of Life...to get at The Truth.
Most activists believe they are dealing with truths which are objects of knowledge. But
they (the truths) are, rather, holes made in established/accepted knowledge...at
best "a subtraction from the particularity of what is currently known." (1B)
Andy Goldsworthy, the British environmental artist, gives one a singular perspective
on such subtraction.
In five words, he is a breath of fresh air.
For activists who are spinning their wheels on...one side of their brain. Can't
take a vacation. Believe most fundamental concerns can be verbalized. Think
they've seen it all. And so on. For them, I recommend any one of
Goldsworthy's books...or the recently released (on DVD) Rivers and Tides:
Working with Time.
For those who know the glorious images and inspiration of his work, but don't
know the motion picture, I urge you to see the out-of-this-world collaboration
between the Scotsman and German filmmaker Thomas Riedelsheimer. It is
truly a sensual, poetic masterpiece.
When my partner Sylvie and I first saw it over a year ago in Santa Cruz, California,
we went with a woman who had just lost her husband (of many decades). It
transformed her. It spoke to the depths of what troubled her...without
many words. And it left us speechless.
For want of a better expression, I'd say that Andy is an Outdoor Artist. Readers
can get all the general (fancy footwork) descriptions by punching his name
and/or Rivers
and Tides into a Search, but they'll never capture what can be experienced
with the screened offering.
"The artist's intention is not to 'make his mark' on the landscape, but
rather to work with it instinctively, so that a delicate screen of bamboo or
massive snow rings or a circle of leaves floating in a pool create a new perception
and an evergrowing understanding of the land."
The above words are from Andy Goldsworthy: A Collaboration with Nature (Harry
N. Abrams, Inc. Publishers, 1990). One can easily see how indigenous
people might appreciate what he is about (with his reverence for the land),
but that's really a facile take on his raison d'etre.
"I have held ice to ice seemingly for ages waiting for it to freeze, only
to let go and see it drop off." With this observation from the Introduction of
the above work, one can sense a soul focused beyond the pedestrian art world,
operating in a realm different even from our most cherished Masters. Or
perhaps you can't.
It might be that you'll have to see what he creates. I may be
drawing upon much more than I acknowledge in writing this tribute.
I've walked the forests around Castres, France where he's worked...not far
from the Musee Goya. But one can't partake of Andy's art by simply walking
into a museum. (1C)
It's of another world, and it's that that I want my fellow activists to experience,
to restore their sense of humility, to jump outside of the box they've got
all art locked up in (perhaps), to rejuvenate their depths, to believe...again. To
not depend upon results. (1D) To not insult the Intelligence of the Universe. To
see Beauty Bare.
In the late eighties, he was working on Honshu and Kyushu the same time that
I was teaching ESL in Japan. I hate the cold, but....
Leaves torn between the veins...stitched together with pine needles...hung
from a tree...raining...calm...cold. A slab a snow carved into...leaving a translucent
layer...horse chestnut stalks pinned together with thin bamboo. This was
Izumi-Mura. At Kiinagashima-cho there were the simplest of pebbles around
a hole.
But the words fail here...as much as they ever failed Beckett...and us all...again
and again.
When he says "The energy and space around a material are as important as
the energy and space within" he reminds me that the weather...is that external
space made visible...but only in part. It harks to the above remarks about
subtraction. And truths.
I drove a taxi in New York City for two-and-a-half years. I got to know
the boroughs deeply, in part, 'cause I would see the same territory at different
times of the day...during different seasons. AG: "I might have walked
past or worked there many times. Some places I return to over and over
again, going deeper -- a relationship made in layers over a long time." I
have something in common with Andy. We all do.
For those who want to come away from Rivers and Tides with something "tangible," they
can look forward to what he has to say about the impact of sheep on history,
etc. But...none of the things one can pigeon-hole so has as much to offer
as the look on his face as he sits at the family's kitchen table, eyes on The
Impossible, as his kids wander in their worlds side by side. Or as much
as one's kinaesthesia connected with the unexpected collapse of...Wonder. You'll
see, you'll feel it.
Then there are the birdseye views of what could not possibly have been created.
I walked into a brand new library in San Jose, California the other day, and
I asked whether or not there was a dictionary to be had. "I'll see," came
the surprising reply. After a few steps of searching, following the librarian's
lead (like a character in Monte Python), she added: "No one's asked that." I
began to descend to Hell. We arrived at the Reference section, and as I
was explaining that what I was looking for was one of those huge Webster deals
that were usually found on a swivel in the center of a reading room, she pulled
something of the sort down from the shelves...to satisfy her...customer. No
sense of irony. No sense of significant change in process. (2)
Andy IS the dripping walls and small pools at Glenmarlin Falls on the River
Scaur in Dumfriesshire...in the face of this caricature of a caricature.
He will make you scream that you will never die...because you were never born...that
you've just forgotten who you are. And you'll be a better activist for
it.
Most moviegoers don't know that character Rick never said "Play it again,
Sam" in Casablanca. Don't ever let it be said that character
Rick didn't say "Play it again, Andy."
Let's bless our bowels with beatific visions, and mock the midnight bell...for
fun, if nothing else.
Though time and tides wait for no man or woman, there's time enough for that.
NOTES:
*Used
as a verb here.
(1A) Wonderful rundown of the song's history vis-a-vis the film plus is in
Will Friedwald's Stardust Melodies, courtesy of New York's Pantheon
Books (2002). Other
forms of "phoney fog" include Errol Morris' disingenuous McNamara "fog" in The
Fog of War.
(1B) Alain Badiou, On Beckett (Manchester: Clinamen Press, 2003), p.
124.
(1C) One CAN imbibe his spirit at a spot that he and his art have long departed
from, however.
(1D) As in results which are under the auspices of...those in the Social
Sciences...and most activists (measuring their lives away).
(2) Know that you're off on the wrong foot if you start to rationalize that
one can look up whatever you need on the computer...and so on.
Richard Oxman welcomes back and forth respecting Goldsworthy's mesmerizing
ephemera, and can be reached at dueleft@yahoo.com. BLESSINGS
FOR THE NEW YEAR...THE DAYS...AND NIGHTS TO COME.
WELCOME TO CYRANO'S PAGE! 
