In order to accomplish this task time and time again, Goldsworthy has learned to account for many considerations when producing his work. One is that he must deem how long the materials he is utilizing will survive within the environment he is using them. This will affect how long he has to work and to what limits he can push his project. Another consideration is in relation to the natural elements, such as wind, rain, temperature, and more, for the presence of any combination of these elements can shorten or lengthen the time he has to finish working. In order to fully account for this, it helps for Goldsworthy to be very familiar with the place he has chosen to work. Something else to account for is how the sun will be the primary light source for his pieces. Since he works mainly outdoors and does not utilize artificial lighting, the only control he has over how his works will be lit is where he places them in the environment in respect to the path the sun takes as it rises and sets.
As previously mentioned, one of Goldsworthy’s main methods for anticipating time is being thoroughly familiar with the places he chooses to work. He explains in the video that living somewhere for even four or five years and then moving on is not enough time to get to know a place. He expresses importance in not only having a sense of how the landscape and the seasons change, but paying attention to how the people living there have changed as well. These ongoing observations lead him to fully understand the workings of time and how he can make them work to his advantage in producing his work. The effects of his methods on his projects are extremely positive. He explains in the video that he has lived in his hometown of Penpont, Scotland for many years and that is still where he produces his best work. This is due to the fact that he has been fully able to get to know this place and, therefore, understand more and more its workings of time.
What is being implied by Goldsworthy’s feeling like an uprooted stranger around this tide, even though he has worked with tides before and they are repeated all over the world, is the fact that just because something looks familiar does not necessarily mean that it is familiar. In a new place, something familiar-looking can just as easily be something strange and new. What is implied here is that we can use things which are familiar to explain and comprehend the workings of something which is strange and new. Knowledge of the familiar allows Goldsworthy to “shake hands” with the new place before beginning his work. This serves to help him feel more rooted and comfortable in the environment and, therefore, create more successful work.
When Goldsworthy begins to get excited about “discovering” something about his project which he did not initially expect, he is working on a serpent-like form made out of icicles weaving in and out of a large boulder. What he did not anticipate with this work is that the sun would illuminate the icicles and create a striking contrast between them and the dark cliff in the background. What he is referring to in terms of the potential of this simple piece is that it has laid the groundwork for larger pieces which can be created with this technique. A larger, more intricate piece built in this manner would have extraordinary optical effects on the viewer. In other words, this work has the potential to become something even greater and more striking in the future.
Goldsworthy states in the video that “the very thing that brings a work to life can also cause its death.” Place/site gives birth to possibility and can then destroy it through the passage of time. For example, in the icicle project described above, it is the illuminative quality of the ice which brings the work to life. However, even more so than illuminative capabilities, the icicles have melting capabilities. Once the ice is melted, the work is destroyed. It can also be said that the sun brings the work to life by illuminating the icicles. However, the sun will later destroy the project by melting it with its intense rays. This inevitable paradox is consistently present throughout Goldsworthy’s works.
The difference between destruction and mutation/shifting/evolving of an ephemeral piece is seen at the end of any of these processes. At the end of destruction, nothing remains of whatever thing it was that was destructed. In other words, the piece is completely destroyed without the possibility of leaving behind any salvageable component. Mutation, shifting, and evolving, however, start with one work and end with a rearrangement of, alteration to, subtraction from, or addition to that original work. While some sort of change does take place during these processes, total destruction is not a factor; there will always be some recognizable aspect of the original piece present. For example, look at the hollow mound Goldsworthy made entirely out of stacking wooden logs. In order to cause complete destruction to this piece, he would have had to douse it in gasoline, set fire to it, and repeat this process until nothing remained but a pile of ashes. In this instance, no recognizable aspect of the original work would remain. The actual deconstruction of this piece, however, is classified as more of a mutation/shifting/evolving process. Once Goldsworthy was finished building this work, the tide slowly came in, gently lifted it off the shore, and carried it floating away. The structure of the mound remained intact as the logs which comprised it floated away one by one. Even though the structure was no more, it mutated/shifted/evolved back into its original forms: the individual logs.
The edge of collapse which Goldsworthy refers to is powerful in the sense that it is a beautiful balance between the extreme limits of what these materials could potentially withhold and the point at which they will actually give in and deconstruct. Pushing materials and projects to these limits demonstrates an unwillingness to take the safe route and a willingness to experiment with and present new, uncharted ideas. This notion is reflected in the human experience as well in the sense that you never know what you are capable of until you push yourself to the limit, fail, and then try again. You will only be able to live life to the fullest if you know for certain what you are capable of.
Through his experiences, Goldsworthy has discovered that time is relentless and its passing is inevitable. No matter what, it always creeps up on you whether you are ready for it or not. Time has taught him that places change and in order to successfully work within them, you have to anticipate these changes and be capable of either working with them or around them. For example, when working on the beach, he knows that there is no getting away from the fact that the tide will eventually come and he will have to cease working on his piece. His understanding of time and how much he has left intensifies his relationship with the place, for he must take advantage of his access to the space while time allows.
I sometimes forget that it is okay to make mistakes during the art-making process. It is comforting to hear such an accomplished artist as Andy Goldsworthy talk about how he learns from his mistakes and is even able to further determine his place with each one. Although the feeling of disappointment can be overwhelming at times, it is important to keep trying so as to gain more understanding of what can be done better. This will eventually lead to a full understanding of the materials at hand as well as the knowledge of how to best utilize them. I have come across this understanding in photography through my multiple experiences with handling film. I have had many failures in terms of exposing, developing, and everything in between, but each failure leaves me with an extended knowledge of this material and how I may attempt to master it.
Goldsworthy’s cones are “markers” to his journey and places he has become attached to. When one of the cones is placed in the controlled environment of a museum, its purpose changes from being an object of personal significance and attachment to being an object primarily meant for display and the unattached gaze of the public. In a museum (something Goldsworthy is not attached to), it would be easy to look at the cone for only a few seconds and then casually move on to the next exhibit. The video even shows people walking by the piece in a museum without giving it as much as a glance. When displayed in the outdoors, however, the cones take on a stronger presence; almost as if they are protecting the environment around them. If someone were to see this form in nature, they would most likely look at it and contemplate it more than if it were in a museum. This is because even though the cones are comprised of natural materials, they would not naturally take this form. One would ponder how the cone got there and why it may be significant to that particular location.
Goldsworthy states that “in order to get to the essence of the sheep, you must get through its wooliness.” Stereotypes, first impressions, fear, and wrong associations of a place, person, or thing are comparable to the wooliness or thick outer layer of the sheep. This wooliness can inhibit us from experiencing what is honest about a place, person, or thing by diverting our attention from its true essence or attributes. Stereotypes and first impressions are not always accurate, and fear and wrong associations tend to steer people away altogether. To experience the true essence of someone or something, one must train themselves to sift through the wooliness no matter how difficult it may be.
Goldsworthy is able to get at the reality of how “sheep” impact place by working with the sheep and understanding them to the core. In order to get in touch with the reality of the place itself, he must be willing to work with the sheep which so deeply impact that place.
Goldsworthy explains that the sheep leave their story behind by engraving it into the landscape. Joel Sternfeld captures a similar notion in his photographic series titled “On This Site”. While these photographs may appear to be merely serene images of the rural, urban, or suburban landscape, they are actually snapshots of sites where actual tragedies took place. Although the photographs are not of the tragedies themselves, their absence is permanently recorded into the landscape. The nature of the tragedy seems to resonate in the atmosphere, making these sites hauntingly familiar to the viewer. Any event, no matter how insignificant, has some sort of effect on the environment in which it occurred. It would be impossible for it to not have some sort of impression on the surrounding landscape.
Goldsworthy states at one point in the film that “total control can be the death of a work.” I have found this to be true in my own recent practices and am still trying to completely wrap my mind around this notion. In the past and even occasionally now, I preferred to have complete control over my processes and methods. I found comfort in knowing exactly how things would turn out and how I was going to reach the point of completion. However, letting loose and leaving certain aspects to chance may be the most successful way to work. During my future explorations of site, I plan to keep this mentality since it has proven to be greatly successful in the past.
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