And you cannot feel that commitment without feeling or having a deep sense of loss when they do collapse or fail, and that's inevitable. To achieve what I want, to achieve the works that I make, I have to be fully committed to them succeeding. So there's a really odd sort of state of mind that I guess I get into when I'm making these works, that is necessary for me to extract the finished piece extract the right kind of feeling for the work as I'm making it. And if I start making this work with the intention of it collapsing, then I've lost that intensity of the will for it to succeed, which makes the failure that much more poignant and significant. But if I don't, I think the act of building and rebuilding, collapse, could become the work.įailure is really, really important, but failures have to hurt. I don't know if I will be able to achieve what I want to or I will, with a huge amount of luck and chance. I may have bitten off something I cannot make here. The actual act of collapse and the attempt is becoming interesting enough to become the work. This particular piece - it has fallen down now three times: three days, three collapses. On rebuilding a piece that keeps collapsing It's a lot more unpredictable, the process is far more unpredictable, and with far more compromises with the day, the weather, the material. And the process of growth is obviously critical to my understanding of the land and myself. So in the making of a work - layer by layer, stone by stone, branch by branch, leaf by leaf, petal by petal, one being added to the next - something grows in front of you.
On why he doesn't see himself as "designing" his worksĭesign implies a sense of mapping something out, and then you follow the plan these things grow, and the process of making it parallels that of growth. Your purchase helps support NPR programming. Close overlay Buy Featured Book Title Andy Goldsworthy Subtitle Ephemeral Works 2004-2014 Author Andy Goldsworthy
0 kommentar(er)
