Review of Rivers and Tides
Directed by Thomas Riedelsheimer
"Art for me is a form of nourishment. I need the land. I need it."
- Andy Goldsworthy
Just recently, I experienced Andy Goldsworthy in the process of constructing his art, and it was truly invigorating. Although it was secondhand, through the documentary film Rivers and Tides, I couldn't help but feel as if I was standing or crouching beside him in nature as he assembled, laid out, and built his myriad of environmental sculptures.
The film, directed by Thomas Riedelsheimer, was released in 2001, but because the primary themes are patterns in nature, temporality, and the transmutations of time, seeing it some five years after its' initial release hardly seems to diminish its' impact or relevance.
Goldsworthy is a British photographer and artist living in Scotland who produces works from ice, driftwood, bracken, stones, snow, dirt, leaves, and flowers. Energized by the land, Goldsworthy collects these objects in their original setting, and, utilizing found tools, attaches, moves and arranges them in varying contexts, often in a highly original and fascinating manner. He seems to take a childlike joy in playing with forms, in altering our perceptions. The resulting pieces or scenes often appear as if they have grown from the ground or otherwise spontaneously appeared in nature.
In carefully spaced voiceover narration and interviews with the director Goldsworthy reveals that the two biggest influences on his work are the sea and the river. Indeed, we see various twisting, winding, serpentine, flowing forms which are presumably derived from these sources. For his part, director Riedelsheimer does an admirable job of maintaining a distance from his subject, and this accentuates the impact of the images. Whether orchestrated by Goldsworthy or Riedelsheimer, the composition in most frames is incredibly tasteful, and by good fortune or design, the lighting is often nothing short of breathtaking.
One senses a decidedly Eastern flavor in Goldsworthy's craft, and indeed, his comments on his work echo Taoist and Buddhist philosophical perspectives. At times however, he slips into an awareness of his standing as internationally respected artist, and seemingly catering to critics and gallery owners, produces semi-pretentious statements such as "I haven't simply made the piece to be destroyed by the sea. The work has been given to the sea as a gift, and the sea has taken the work and made more of it than I could have ever hoped for."
Despite rare moments like this where Goldsworthy comes off sounding contrived, the predominant impression one gets of him is that of a simple man who is striving to maintain, and/or reconnect to his archaic roots on a daily basis. Often, to find pristine open fields, beaches, and serene forests in which to work, Goldsworthy will travel, but he nonetheless professes a deep bond with his home base. We see him mingling with sheep and longhaired cows in the Scottish countryside where he lives, and he betrays a sincere respect for the complex functioning of the ecosystem.
In this day and age of increasing concerns with the threats to the planet represented by man's exploitation and disruption of the biosphere, Goldsworthy's message revives our long neglected impulses towards harmony and unity with nature.
If through his art he can spread a renewed appreciation for the delicate balance of our organic surroundings, then his work is much more than ephemerally aesthetic. At its' best it will inspire us to recover the respect for this living and breathing rock that we all inhabit.
