Goldsworthy admires the way they channel water during a storm. Their arcs, and the way they were crafted, are the artist's nod to the humble, curved curbstones he sees lining New England streets. It reminds me of the ripples that form after a rock is tossed into a pond, only crisper and frozen in time. They radiate from the opening in a pattern. The "Watershed's" dramatic rear wall is an art piece made of smoother granite, cut and fitted like a puzzle to form concentric circles. All that water will seep through a carpet of gravel then back into the ground. Goldsworthy hopes it evokes the feeling of a flash flood, experienced up close, in a 9-by-15-foot space. You'll be threatened inside the building and I quite like that sense that nature doesn't stop at the walls of a building.” And if they get a really good storm, that will start to flow with a considerable force,” Goldsworthy predicted. “Then if it really carries on, the water will begin to trickle from the hole. Rain water will travel from that discovered parking lot drain to a 10-inch hole in the center of the back wall of "Watershed." “They'll hear the sound on the roof,” Goldsworthy said, “it's a tin roof, so there will be the sound.” The rustic shelter is like one you'd ramble past on a hike. Goldsworthy explained that when the "Watershed" is completed, visitors will be able to sit inside. Then Goldsworthy asked, “Want to go and have a look?” Jason Wilton from Derbyshire, U.K., cuts stone during the construction of "Watershed." (Robin Lubbock/WBUR) I like to look beyond the surface of things.” "And just conceptually, generally, that’s what I like to do. “I wanted something that would go under the surface of the place, be a little internal - not just out there to be on show, but to be felt and experienced," he said. Now it’s the entry point for a conduit that will feed rainwater to his new, site-specific project. The 62-year-old artist spotted an ordinary drain hole in the museum's back parking lot. "I love drain holes," Goldsworthy declared, "you know, that interface between what we see on the surface to below. Some of the works look like they could've been created by Druids.īut one of his muses at the sculpture park in Lincoln isn't quite as, well, earthy. He arranges fallen trees, boulders and lots of stones outdoors in varied terrains. They're made to last - maybe not forever, but for a good long while. Goldsworthy also designs and constructs rugged, large-scale installations like the one at deCordova. He rubs his eyes, then his hair, with one hand. Then, with one tiny wrong move, and a quietly uttered “oops,” the artist’s precarious piece made of sticks suspended from a tree branch crashes around him. “When I make a work I often take it to the very edge of its collapse,” he tells filmmaker Thomas Riedelsheimer, “and that’s a very beautiful balance.” They’re made in the spirit of adventure to strike awe - then to devolve, and eventually to disappear. The delicate objects Goldsworthy conjures are magical and fleeting. He uses decaying leaves, flower petals, mud, twigs, flowing water - even icicles he breaks with his teeth. I was introduced to Goldsworthy through the award-winning 2001 documentary, “Rivers and Tides.” In it, the artist treks through marshes, streams and forests to painstakingly craft intricate, fragile sculptures. It’s not a reach to say once it's built, the fans will come. Stone by stone, the popular land artist and his team of traditional British dry-stone “wallers” have been constructing his first publicly accessible project in New England. Artist Andy Goldsworthy during the construction of "Watershed" at deCordova Sculpture Park and Museum. Then he looked up, took off his wide-brimmed, khaki hat and protective face mask to say, “Hello.” It was Andy Goldsworthy. Paces away, a man in a dark, body-length work apron hovered over a granite slab laying prone at his feet.Ĭalm as Obi-Wan Kenobi, he wielded a loud, heavy-looking wet saw to etch long grooves in the monolith. They avoided heaps of stones and each other. A cement mixer churned at the base of a slope behind the main building.ĭusty workmen zipped in and out of a simple-looking, solid shed in process. On a sunny June morning, the plinking sounds of hammer and chisel rang through the woods at the deCordova Sculpture Park and Museum.
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