by Andy Goldsworthy
When I began working outside, I had to establish instincts and feelings for Nature: some I never had, while others I had not used since childhood. I needed a physical link before a personal approach and relationship could be formed. I splashed in water, covered myself in mud, went barefoot and woke with the dawn.
When I began working outside, I had to establish instincts and feelings for Nature: some I never had, while others I had not used since childhood. I needed a physical link before a personal approach and relationship could be formed. I splashed in water, covered myself in mud, went barefoot and woke with the dawn.
I have become aware of how nature is in a state of change and how that change is the key to understanding. I want my art to be sensitive and alert to changes in material, season and weather.
Beech leaves collected only the deepest orange from within the undergrowth protected from sunlight unfaded each leaf threaded to the next by its own stalk Hampstead Heath, London 26 December 1985 |
Beech leaves, 1985 (detail) |
A rock is not independent of its surroundings. The way it sits tells how it came to be there. The energy and space around a rock are as important as the energy and space within. The weather - rain, sun, snow, hail, mist, calm - is that external space made visible. When I touch a rock, I am touching and working the space around it. In an effort to understand why that rock is there and where it is going, I do not take it away from the area in which I found it.
Balanced rocks Morecambe Bay, Lancashire May 1978 |
I work with some materials and places many times over. Each time is different. Often I can only follow a train of thought while a particular weather condition persists. When a change comes, the idea must alter or it will, and often does, fail.
Sometimes a work is at its best when most threatened by the weather. A balanced rock is given enormous tension and force by a wind that might cause its collapse. I have worked with colourful leaves, delicate grasses and feathers made extra vivid by a dark, rain-laden sky that casts no shadow. Had it rained, the work would have become mud-splattered and washed away.
Grass stalk line through trees thin end of one pushed up wider hollow end of other Bentham, Yorkshire January 1980 |
I make one or two sculptures each day I go out. From a month's work, two or three pieces are successful. The 'mistakes' are very important. Each new sculpture is a result of knowledge accumulated through past experience. A good work is result of being in the right place at the right time with the right material.
Slate arch made over two days fourth attempt Blaenau Ffestiniog, Wales 18-19 May 1982 |
I document what I have made with notes, drawings and photographs. For me the photograph is a memory which evokes the experience of making and of being outside.
In the main my approach is intuitive. Sometimes an idea travels with me until conditions are right for it to appear; even then, I need my intuition to bring the idea out.
The ball, patch, line, arch, spire and hole are recurring forms in my work. I often feel with my sculpture that I am treading deep water and that these forms are familiar rocks that I can always out a foot to. In that respect they are important and probably necessary. They are also an effective way of exploring and extending a work over time, materials and locations.
The hole has become an important element in my sculpture. Looking into a deep hole unnerves me. My concept of stability is questioned and I am made aware of the potent energies within the earth. The black is that energy made visible.
Hole covered with small pointed rocks,Clapham, YorkshireJanuary 1980 |
Horse chestnut tree torn hole stitched around the edge with grass stalks moving in the wind Trinity College, Cambridge 24 July 1986 |
I do not use glue or rope, preferring to explore the bonds and tensions that exist in nature. If I used glue I would forfeit the joy of discovering how materials join together by their own nature. The coloured leaf patches were discovered when I found one dark and one light leaf of the same size. I tore the dark leaf in two, spat underneath it and pressed it on to the light leaf: the result was what appeared to be a single, tow-coloured leaf. Excited by this discovery, I went on to make yellow (Elm), green (Elm), orange (Beech), white (Sycamore) and red (Cherry) patches.
Yellow patch (elm) [Leaf patches edges made by finding leaves the same size tearing one in two spitting underneath and pressing flat on to another] Middleton Woods, Yorkshire 6 November 1980 |
Green patch (elm) Middleton Woods, Yorkshire 7 November 1980 |
Because I do not use conventional tools, I am forces to be more inventive and responsive to Nature. I enjoy the unpredictability of breaking rock on rock - hand against rock against rock. Touching is essential to understanding and my art gives direction to touch.
Line to follow colour in stones St. Abbs, Scotland 31 May 1985 |
Cairn to follow colours in stones St. Abbs, Scotland 1 June 1985 |
These limitations that I work under are not set rules and I will not be bound by them. I have always felt uncomfortable making an image from what is a very physical, outdoor process and have welcomed the recent opportunity at Grizedale Forest in Cumbria to make a sculpture that will last longer.
Working at Grizedale has felt natural to me. I want an art that makes sense of, and uses my past experiences. Since the age of thirteen, I have worked part-time on farms and in gardens. The billhook, axe, chain saw, gavley, spade and hammer are familiar tools in my hand. I am accustomed to using tools, equipment and people to shift large quantities of material within the landscape: building haystacks, ploughing fields, planting crops, fencing, walling.
River stone supported by hazel sticks collapsed several times the last four or five stone being the most awkward made across a path at the entrance to a glade Swindale Beck Wood, Cumbria 13 September 1982 |
In many ways my approach to the earth has been a reaction against the abuse of the land by the industrial farmer. Among other things the work I have done at Grizedale represents a reconciliation between my art and my experiences on the farm. My approach to the earth has evolved it still evolving and will continue to change.
Snow Circles, December 19, 1987, Izumi-Mura, Japan |
Storm King Wall (1997-98) 2,278-foot stone wall, Storm King Art Center at the Hudson River in Mountainville, New York, 1997-98 |
Hanging Trees, Yorkshire Sculpture Park, Yorkshire, England, 2007 |
Clay Steps, Folkestone Triennial, England, 2014‘Working with change is to also work with the future.’ |
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