Creating: A Personal Exploration

When I set out to make my own environmental sculpture, I didn’t know exactly where it would take me. I knew I wanted to create something from nature, but that was about it. For the past weeks, I have been exploring the works of established artists and writing about their different approaches and methods. Some, like Dougherty, take nature and shape it to their own expression. Others, like Goldsworthy, let their expressions be shaped by nature. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was headed, which route I would lean towards more.

I began on a sunny day, a day that positively invited you outside. I walked around campus, considering where I should begin with my sculpture. There were branches strewn all around, owing to a windy night, and so I began collecting them. I amassed quite a pile, and brought them back by the fistful to my dorm. Over the following days, I kept my eyes open, stopping every time I saw another branch that stood out to me.

Before long, I had what I deemed to be a sufficient number of branches for whatever shape they would take. They were stored in an alcove next to my dorm, and for a long time they just sat there. Although I had been thinking and sketching for a while, I had not yet alighted on a definite course of action.

Then I realized that I had been going about it all wrong. This was not a process that could be pre-meditated, but one that had to be experienced and done in the moment. I left my room and went downstairs to gather together my pile of branches.

I then spent some time really looking at them and contemplating them. They were all so similar and yet so different. Each served the same function, but there were differences in color, shape, and texture. I began breaking them into roughly uniform lengths, a process which accentuated the differences and gave each a certain individuality.

Next, I started to mess around with their placement. I stacked them, piled them, arranged them into color gradations and then rearranged them, trying to get acquainted with the subtleties of their differences and similarities.

After a bit, I got up and walked around until I found a spot that felt right. I settled on a tree on the quiet green, right near the Van Wickle gates. I laid my sticks out and paused, really looking at the tree. I picked up one stick and put it down near the base of the tree. Then I picked up another and put it by the first. I did this again and again, spiraling out and away from the tree trunk. Each twig was separate, but together they flowed into one another to form a whole.

It was not much, indeed I felt rather silly just putting twigs around a tree. But then I stopped thinking about what I was doing externally and focused on the process itself. It became meditative, an organic act.

From far away, the spiral fades into obscurity. In fact, until you are walking by it, it is hard to notice it at all.

But then you are upon it, and it makes you stop for a minute. No longer is it just a tree on the quiet green, no longer is it ordinary. But then you must pause and consider: is not all of nature extraordinary?

That which we take for granted every day – trees, grass, leaves – is actually quite amazing when you think about it. Our environment is far more complex and beautiful than we often credit it for. When we think of the natural world as being spectacular, we tend to call the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls to mind. Yes, these are wonders of nature, but there are just as astounding systems that surround us right at home. The environment is not some far-off, unreachable concept, but an immediate reality. The sooner we can begin to appreciate the wonder of nature as it truly is, the sooner we can merge our immediate environment with the concept of the Environment at large and begin to understand and connect with the essence of nature.

Evolving: Robert Smithson

There is a beauty in the picturesque and the pastoral, but for Robert Smithson, this was not enough. An American land artist born in 1938, Smithson sought to explore nature in its context with man. He felt that there is a continually transforming relationship between humanity and the landscape, and the more destructive this relationship, the better a place it was for his art.

He sought locations that were scarred by industry, urbanization, or the rage of nature itself. This fascination with ruin began in the sixties, when he began to see potential in former industrial areas in New Jersey and the excavation of earth and rock, calling that which the dump trucks hauled out “the monuments of antiquity.”

Smithson’s interest was not only in the relationship between nature and man, but also in that of nature with itself. Oftentimes the destructive powers of the natural world supercede those of humanity, and he wished this to be reflected in his work. To this end, he saw his artwork as continual processes, as many environmental artists do. The creation of the piece was only the beginning. Its life lasted far longer, and never existed in a static state. This temporality was a cornerstone of his work, and he welcomed the changes nature would make in his handiwork.

In 1970, Smithson created his most famous work, Spiral Jetty. Located on the northeastern shore of the Great Salt Lake near Rozel Point in Utah, it is a 1,500 foot long spiral-shaped jetty made entirely of mud, salt crystals, and basalt rocks. Fifteen feet wide, it extends counterclockwise from the shore into the lake.

Smithson constructed the jetty during a drought, and so the water level of the lake was unusually low. When, in the next few years, the water level returned to normal, the jetty was entirely submerged. It remained that way for over three decades until another drought in 2004 exposed it once again. The next spring, though, the water level rose once again, partially submerging the jetty.

Water level change is not the only difference the piece has seen over its lifetime, though. Originally the jetty was black rock against ruddy waters, but now, due to salt encrustation and increased algae populations, it is mainly white rock against pink-hued water.

Smithson’s life was cut short in 1973, leaving the legacy of his works behind. Controversy has arisen over the conservation of his art – some feel that the jetty should be made to resemble its original form by putting a new layer of basalt rocks over it.

Surely, though, this would have contradicted his most fundamental views. He felt that land art should evolve with its surroundings, whether they are changes for the better or the worse. Destruction is a part of the life cycle, and art should be no exception. Nature is beautiful, but it is strong and powerful. Its effects should not be hidden or overlooked, but instead embraced as a continuation of creation.

Understanding: Andy Goldsworthy

“Process and decay are implicit. Transience in my work reflects what I find in nature.”

It may be twigs, it may be leaves, or it may be snow. Andy Goldsworthy, a British-born sculptor, does not discriminate with his materials, but uses whatever he finds at hand. For him, nature is his inspiration, his medium, and his reflection.

He is intimately connected with the natural world, and just as his work comes from the land, he lets it return. There is nothing precious, nothing beyond the grasp of nature. His art is all about the creation and the destruction, the process of life itself.

Generally his only tools are what he, as a human, has at his disposal. He will rip, tear, and bite his materials as necessary, for rarely do man-made tools enter the picture. His aim is to embrace nature as fully as he can in his art, so he keeps away from objects that would interrupt this. Instead of nails, for instance, he will employ small twigs, grass connections, or as in the case of his ice sculptures, his own saliva.

Although some of Goldsworthy’s work is permanent, the majority of it is extremely temporary. For him, the process of its destruction is just as important as that of its creation. Nature is cyclical and changeable, and his art reflects this as it evolves with the environment around it.

To capture the essence of the artwork at its various stages, Goldsworthy relies on the documentation of photography. Although the photos are hardly comparable to actually experiencing the sculptures in real life, many of them are pieces of artwork unto themselves. Without them, there would be little chance for the average person to see his work, for not only are many of his works fleeting, they are also often located deep in nature, out of the reach of most.

There is something magical about the work of Andy Goldsworthy. There is a silence, a peacefulness, and a patience that he captures in each and every work. Whether it is a piece that will remain standing for years to come or one that will get washed away with the tide, there is a beauty that extends beyond the physical presence of the art. His works capture an essence of nature that is all too often overlooked in everyday life.

By simply rearranging that which nature provides, Goldsworthy exposes something that is present all around, something that should not be forgotten. It is the inherent beauty, fragility, and intensity of our natural world.

Experiencing: Patrick Dougherty

Vast, spiraling forms are drawn out of the landscape. Peaks of twisted branches rise and surge, growing as if from the Earth itself. Some seem a natural extension of their environment, others are conspicuously manipulated. Unassumingly they sit, massive weavings conjured not from nature, but from the thoughts of one man: Patrick Dougherty.

Inspiration for these sculptures can be traced all the way back to his youth. As he says, “my affinity for trees as a material seems to come from a childhood spent wandering the forest around Southern Pines, NC – a place with thick underbrush and many intersecting lines evident in the bare winter branches of trees.”

Dougherty takes these lines and uses them as though he is drawing with them. One critic captures it perfectly, saying that his process is that he “weaves and threads sticks as if each one were a stroke of a pencil, crayon or paintbrush, filling side surfaces with crosshatched and scribbled concentrations of the wood’s natural reds, greens, tans, grays and browns.”

His actual process is quite intensive. Each sculpture is a journey that focuses as much on the creation as the end product. When the site of a sculpture is determined, he will stay there for about a month to create it. He places great importance on connecting with a place, on absorbing the subtleties of the location that consequently inform his artwork.

After he feels he has properly intuited the essence of a place, about a week is spent harvesting renewable materials from the area, mainly willow or maple saplings. Dougherty does this with the help of community members such as students and volunteers.

Once enough materials are collected, he and his team of helpers begin to construct the sculpture. First it is made structurally sound, then it is fleshed out, concealing its structural elements to give it the flowing appearance that marks so much of Dougherty’s work.

The majority of his work takes the form of outside installations, but many, too, are done inside. These pieces are likewise site specific, and he treats them just like his outside pieces, making them as much a part of their environment as if they were a natural extension of the building.

Dougherty began working in this style in 1980, though his first works were much smaller-scale, fashioned in his backyard for display on pedestals. He quickly moved towards the more monumental work he is now known for. By this point, he has built over two hundred massive, site-specific sculptures. They have been located all over the world, in museums, parks, universities, and more. For a short time he even had a sculpture here at Brown.

When you are face-to-face with one of Dougherty’s sculptures, it is an awe-inspiring experience. It is as though a tornado has been frozen or a dust storm captured. It is the embodiment of the potential force of nature. You are swept off your feet, swirled into an appreciation of the power of the natural environment. They cease to be saplings and become instead the manifestation of pure energy.

Seeing

 

“You feel as though you’ve touched the heart of the place… That’s the way of understanding; seeing something you never saw before that was always there but you were blind to.”

-Andy Goldsworthy

 

How many stones have you walked by without noticing; how many fallen leaves or twigs? Do you look at a puddle and see potential or do you see an obstacle? How do we assign value to our surroundings? What is our natural environment worth?

 

 

For many, environmentalism is a lofty and disconnected goal. It is seen as an ideal towards which to strive, but not as an immediate reality. Oftentimes the concentration is towards distant and somewhat abstract issues. Take shorter showers, turn off your lights when you’re out, get a hybrid car. Protest the construction of new coal plants, petition for carbon emission limits. All of these make a difference, but not always one that we can immediately perceive in our daily lives. Because of this, it often seems that there is a divide between the Environment – the conceptual entity that activism strives to protect – and the environment – the tangible, natural surroundings of our everyday.

 

To bridge this gap, we must take pause. Go outside, find a tree. Put your hand up to it, behold its bark, its branches, its leaves. This is a tree. This is the environment. This is the Environment.

 

Now think: how many times have you passed this tree before? How often do you really take a moment to appreciate what it is? Environmentalism is an all-encompassing concept, not restricted to far-off, larger problems, but inclusive of each and every part of nature.

 

 

How then, can this be realized? Most will not take that moment on their own to recognize the interconnectivity of it all, to realize how we can understand other forms of life around us. To make people see this, some have taken the step to foster greater appreciation for the natural world. Some have manipulated their natural environment just enough to capture attention. These people are a group of artists who, in reverting back to the most primitive medium, have created something new. They make art from the land; they create environmental art.

 

These are artists like Andy Goldsworthy and Patrick Dougherty. They have taken nature and pushed it further, exploring the natural beauty of our world in new ways. Their art is temporary, seasonal, tidal. Like nature, it is about both the creation and the destruction. It is about the cycles of life.

 

It makes us ponder the Earth and see its beauty. This is nature we cannot take for granted, and so it opens our eyes to the fact that there really is no nature that we can take as such.

We must understand both the volatility and the fragility of the land, and environmental art is a pathway towards this. It is a road open to all who pass, beckoning towards a greater, more holistic understanding of our world and natural environment.

 

 

(Photos: 1^st and 2^nd: Andy Goldsworthy, 3^rd: Patrick Dougherty)