“How about Dracula 2000 for tonight?” was my answer.
But when I did eventually get around to watching Rivers and Tides, I was entranced. Both by what the artist made and by how he made it. His name is Andy Goldsworthy, and in the documentary, he would just walk into the forest or onto a beach, grab some leaves or sticks or rocks (or ice and snow if it was winter) and create amazing-looking pieces like that was the purpose of leaves and sticks in the first place. I immediately wanted to see his work in person.
That art park is called Storm King Art Center, which I effused about here. Goldsworthy’s piece can be found in a copse of trees near a creek. It’s a rock wall.
That’s it. Sort of.
The wall doesn’t really wall, though. It weaves like a snake, throwing its loops around trees on its way down to a pond. It’s exactly what a wall shouldn’t do. I mean, we put those things up to subjugate the wild, to order it, claim it. Here, Goldsworthy’s wall defers to nature, getting out of the way of the trees as it wends back and forth and down to the water where it doesn’t so much end as disappears. On the far bank, the wall seems to resurface, this time forming a conventional straight light up an empty stretch of hill.
|Five Men, Seventeen Days, Fifteen Boulders, One Wall|