Wednesday, December 8, 2010

process and decay are implicit

The work of Andy Goldsworthy is worthy of acclamation as well as envy.


His intricate sculptures, unassuming at first glimpse, inspire me to appreciate our world that is often under-exalted.
Generally, leaves are recognized at the time of their death. They have their fifteen minutes of fame as they slide brilliantly through the color wheel and then to the ground. 
Andy Goldsworthy  helps us to see the divinity that exists in the normalcy of nature.  The patience and delicacy that his completed pieces emit hint at the obvious respect for the Earth that he surely fosters within.
He gathers the tiniest of leaves and places each one in a specific position only to allow the wind or the river to carry off his offering of beauty.




His larger works are bold and often seem impossible.  I almost hold my breath so as not to send tumbling down the gravity defying boulders perched upon precarious peaks. His archways, often achieved after various attempts and missteps, seem effortless in their stability. He uses no cement, no glue, to ensure the durability of his pieces yet accepts and welcomes the passage of time and what destruction it may bring to the sculptures.
Andy Goldworthy works with what he finds, wherever he may find himself. I am envious of his vast travels that have not only led to his worldwide fame, but also have opened doors to a large range of different mediums. The snow and ice structures are some of the most obviously fleeting that he creates. As the sun warms or the seasons change, the inevitable dissipation of the water molecules transforms the sculptures into living works. Every moment is transient and the only residue left is that which is captured by the camera.




The fact that Goldworthy allows nature to take its course and reabsorb what it has produced, ultimately destroying the art which he spent time to create, makes his work even more precious.

At its most successful, my "touch" looks into the heart of nature; most days I don't even get close.  These things are all part of a transient process that I cannot understand unless my touch is also transient; only in this way can the cycle remain unbroken and the process be complete.