Delighted that my friend Melior and I were present when Richard
Long talked about his work, with an accompanying slide show at the V&A this
evening. This was a lecture in memory of
silversmith, Pamela Rawnsley, who shared
Long’s appreciation of walking and landscape.
I first came across Long, along with David Nash and Andy Goldsworthy
about thirty years ago and was inspired to go into the woods and make sculpture
from found materials. I have seen his
work in a number of exhibitions including a major retrospective, Heaven and
Earth, at Tate Britain a few years ago that included: large scale mud drawings
on walls, stone circles on floors and books. (See the link below for more
information about that exhibition.)
At seventy, Long continues to work with energy and
enthusiasm, still walking and still exploring new processes. He is an imposing figure, at least 6’ tall
and he speaks quietly but confidently.
The talk began with standard information about Long’s work,
disarmingly unconnected to the accompanying slide show which was on a loop. He read from notes describing his way of
working and some of the actual projects; he several times reinforced the
concept of his work being about place, time and himself.
It was when people started asking questions that it got more
interesting. Not that any were
controversial or challenging – it’s just that the conversational aspect of this
section made it seem more lively and potent.
Some of the questions that were addressed and the responses can be read
below. (Please excuse the paraphrasing and bear in mind that these are the
things I noticed, rightly or wrongly!):
How important is the
photography to you and what is the process, camera etc?
Answer – very important, a crucial part of the art, to
document and explain what has been created, made, thought. Real black and white film, developed by an
expert (who was sitting in the front row).
The photographs can be art in their own right, part of a book, or part
of an explanatory slide show ‘like this’.
Is it a compromise
making work in a gallery, compared with responding to walking in the great
outdoors?
Answer – no. I am the
same artist, responding to different situations, opportunities.
Do you make any
connection between pre-Christian religious symbolism (are you picking up on
some earthly force) in view of the fact that some of your work looks like those
kind of prehistoric sculptures?
Answer – no. I am not
religious. Clearly many of the simple
shapes and symbols in my work coincide with simple shapes and symbols from
other cultures, religions, ways of thinking.
(Long made it clear that he is interested in working with simple
universal shapes rather than creating his own shapes.)
Other questions led to explanations of how he started
working on the walks as a student. He
described how Anthony Caro ruled at St Martin’s but his modernist steel work was
considered uninteresting by Long and his close contemporaries. He described the way Henry Moore seemed
ancient and beside the point. He said he
was young and wanted to find new ways of making art. Earlier on he had explained that his work was
influenced by many things including Art Povera and Land Art. He also said that as a teenager he liked Van
Gough, Cezanne and made drawings and paintings.
Long considers himself an artist and not an explorer. Neither does he think of himself as a
performer (despite that fact that his work can seem like a performance at
times). He was very quick to respond to
all of the questions and very sure about how to respond, presumably having met
the same questions quite a few times over the past fifty years.
Overall I really enjoyed the evening, particularly the
questions and answers (for which I was suddenly wide-awake).
As I had moved all my stuff out of my studio this morning, I
was particularly heartened by the idea of the whole world serving as a studio,
rather than a particular room acting as a purveyor for particular
processes/materials.
He said that the only thing he takes in his rucksack apart
from a camera is a ball of string (this was in response to a question about how
he marks out the circles).
He also explained that most walks are made alone or with a
guide if necessary, although he has walked (collaborated) with other
artists. He said that as he gets older
the walks might become shorter or slower.
Occasionally he answered ‘no’ to something very quickly and
then proceeded to contradict himself. I
got the feeling that his firm dismissal of people’s misunderstanding of the
intentions behind his work emanates from years of irritating misunderstandings,
leading to emphasis on aspects of the work that are not important to him. For instance somebody asked him about maths
in his work and he was very quick to point out that he is not a mathematician
and can’t add up. However he clearly
does have some interest in maths, in universal shapes and even in concepts like
the Fibonacci sequence (which was used for at least one of his walks).
Happiness
by Emily Carr
Last week I went to see Canadian artist Emily Carr's work at Dulwich Picture Gallery with my friend Lise. Although Carr is best known for work inspired by aboriginal coastal communities: totem poles, and other symbolic cultural icons, the works I particularly
like are the paintings made in woods.
One, called ‘Happiness’ was made in the last years of her working
life. It looks as if it was made quite
quickly, on large paper, using oil paints, thinned with some kind of mixer
(not sure what it was). Apparently she
would spend time in a wood, looking at a particular view and then, eventually
paint quite quickly. That is how I like
to work too and probably why I feel such an affinity with these paintings, of
which there are many, all very moving and exciting.
Here's "Happiness" by Emily Carr
