Nothing that I have physically produced, nor thoughts or literary works of mine, are original. I am the combined effort of everyone that I have and haven’t met; a granule of earth from every corner of the globe that I have visited, as well as from those that I am yet to travel to..
I draw inspiration, subconsciously, from most aspects of life, but try to keep my chosen influences limited (in order to avoid directly copying from another source or work).
If i do create something that appears to be my own; an original design, that is only the case due to my attempt at emulating someone else’s work and failing or falling short, thus the creating of something new.
I am an optimist – perhaps on too large a scale. You see, I get myself worked up in looking forward to things that I hope to happen – dreams. When they don’t, I come crashing down to earth - it hurts. And, unfortunately, I bruise like an elderly grape. At least, I guess, old grapes can/do get turned into alcohol..which is one small up-side to it all.
Oh, woe.
Andy Goldsworthy is a Scottish ? artist who i really got into after doing a partial assignment on him either earlier this year or maybe in '08..i really can't remember which.
he works with nature to incredible extents, and often creates sculptures and structures that are only temporary - being slowly washed away by the ocean after being built in front of an incoming tide, or being made of loosely but skilfully-placed leaves and twigs - always always made out of natural things out of the environment around him. part of the reason that he does these temporary works is to mirror the constant movement and change within nature and the world around us, i think. i find that really interesting.
image via
this was about part of a rare indoor exhibition that he did in 07, with one room having the walls coated with a gorgeous thick layer of pre-made cracking clay:
another, called the Wood Room was just as impressively beautiful, but also a little haunting - at least from what i can gather from photographs.
the room is 'an intricate dome of coppiced chestnut branches that looks like an upturned nest. Inside, it's claustrophobic, oppressive.'
'I hope the room feels like entering the stomach of a tree, it's very intestinal.'
'The piece was inspired by his memory of a visit to the park in 1983. A much skinnier Goldsworthy tried to wriggle through a small opening at the base of a sycamore into a rotting cavity (the manoeuvre is recorded in a series of photographs also on display in the show).'
'I was under threat when I went inside that dead tree, I really didn't know if I'd get stuck halfway.'
andy has all of his works beautifully photographed (i'd like to grab one of his books for my own coffee table) at the time of creation, as a lot of them do not stay around for long.
this was also said by AG about the Wood Room:
[i created the Wood Room]'..because of the number of times I've been in woods, working in a strong wind, and have felt threatened. Big trees have fallen right on two places where I've worked a lot recently. This has happened throughout my life. When I was a student, I worked on one particular rock at Morecambe that I called my workbench rock. When I returned a couple of years later, a big boulder from the cliff had smashed the stone. In geological time, that was a near-miss.'
this was a whole heap of twigs stitched together with thorns, obviously a very slow and delicate process. like this one, he has included a lot of perfectly formed circles within his pieces. maybe that's got to do again with the continuation and impermanence of nature, i'm really not sure.:
andy g: 'since I have had my own children, and seen how intensely a child looks at things, you really can't describe that looking as naive.'
'After a visit to the Arctic in the late 80s, Goldsworthy experimented with snow and ice. Thus perhaps his greatest coup: thirteen large snowballs from the Scottish Highlands left to melt beside London's high streets and tube stations on Midsummer's Day, 2000. As they melted, bucolic debris packed inside - wool, crow feathers, branches, Scots pinecones, elderberries - rolled out onto the concrete. These melancholic acts don't disappear entirely, of course. They're documented and preserved, and sold, through Goldsworthy's photography.'
i could go on and on and on, but i'll refrain and instead leave you with the following images of some of his stuff. i had found a whole heap of great photos of his pieces earlier today but lost the site, so i just found these after a quick internet search in google images. oopz.
i hope you enjoy as much as i have and do:
images via
image via
so the fashn fest is on next saturday, better be there or be rhombus.
(& lately i've been listening to:
White Lies, The Big Pink, The Whitlams, Crowded House more than ever).
OH WOAH. just heard the best new song by the Basics, features the most awesome harmonies. woahaoahoahaha. google it or something. woah. WOAH.
I draw inspiration, subconsciously, from most aspects of life, but try to keep my chosen influences limited (in order to avoid directly copying from another source or work).
If i do create something that appears to be my own; an original design, that is only the case due to my attempt at emulating someone else’s work and failing or falling short, thus the creating of something new.
I am an optimist – perhaps on too large a scale. You see, I get myself worked up in looking forward to things that I hope to happen – dreams. When they don’t, I come crashing down to earth - it hurts. And, unfortunately, I bruise like an elderly grape. At least, I guess, old grapes can/do get turned into alcohol..which is one small up-side to it all.
Oh, woe.
Andy Goldsworthy is a Scottish ? artist who i really got into after doing a partial assignment on him either earlier this year or maybe in '08..i really can't remember which.
he works with nature to incredible extents, and often creates sculptures and structures that are only temporary - being slowly washed away by the ocean after being built in front of an incoming tide, or being made of loosely but skilfully-placed leaves and twigs - always always made out of natural things out of the environment around him. part of the reason that he does these temporary works is to mirror the constant movement and change within nature and the world around us, i think. i find that really interesting.
image via
this was about part of a rare indoor exhibition that he did in 07, with one room having the walls coated with a gorgeous thick layer of pre-made cracking clay:
another, called the Wood Room was just as impressively beautiful, but also a little haunting - at least from what i can gather from photographs.
the room is 'an intricate dome of coppiced chestnut branches that looks like an upturned nest. Inside, it's claustrophobic, oppressive.'
'I hope the room feels like entering the stomach of a tree, it's very intestinal.'
'The piece was inspired by his memory of a visit to the park in 1983. A much skinnier Goldsworthy tried to wriggle through a small opening at the base of a sycamore into a rotting cavity (the manoeuvre is recorded in a series of photographs also on display in the show).'
'I was under threat when I went inside that dead tree, I really didn't know if I'd get stuck halfway.'
andy has all of his works beautifully photographed (i'd like to grab one of his books for my own coffee table) at the time of creation, as a lot of them do not stay around for long.
this was also said by AG about the Wood Room:
[i created the Wood Room]'..because of the number of times I've been in woods, working in a strong wind, and have felt threatened. Big trees have fallen right on two places where I've worked a lot recently. This has happened throughout my life. When I was a student, I worked on one particular rock at Morecambe that I called my workbench rock. When I returned a couple of years later, a big boulder from the cliff had smashed the stone. In geological time, that was a near-miss.'
this was a whole heap of twigs stitched together with thorns, obviously a very slow and delicate process. like this one, he has included a lot of perfectly formed circles within his pieces. maybe that's got to do again with the continuation and impermanence of nature, i'm really not sure.:
andy g: 'since I have had my own children, and seen how intensely a child looks at things, you really can't describe that looking as naive.'
'After a visit to the Arctic in the late 80s, Goldsworthy experimented with snow and ice. Thus perhaps his greatest coup: thirteen large snowballs from the Scottish Highlands left to melt beside London's high streets and tube stations on Midsummer's Day, 2000. As they melted, bucolic debris packed inside - wool, crow feathers, branches, Scots pinecones, elderberries - rolled out onto the concrete. These melancholic acts don't disappear entirely, of course. They're documented and preserved, and sold, through Goldsworthy's photography.'
i could go on and on and on, but i'll refrain and instead leave you with the following images of some of his stuff. i had found a whole heap of great photos of his pieces earlier today but lost the site, so i just found these after a quick internet search in google images. oopz.
i hope you enjoy as much as i have and do:
images via
image via
so the fashn fest is on next saturday, better be there or be rhombus.
(& lately i've been listening to:
White Lies, The Big Pink, The Whitlams, Crowded House more than ever).
OH WOAH. just heard the best new song by the Basics, features the most awesome harmonies. woahaoahoahaha. google it or something. woah. WOAH.
now you're the one who's said what i've been thinking, but i didn't know how to say it
ReplyDeleteaww maaaan