We saw Andy Goldsworthy's movie Rivers and Tides in drawing class yesterday. Don't know why, maybe because we were out drawing trees and plants the Tuesday before? I hadn't seen it, though it did come to our little river theatre (bless Sue, she always got really good films). What I admire most about Andy is his vision. He found the muse that works for him. In fact, without the work, he feels rootless. He is most focussed when executing one of his nature sculptures (out of leaves or ice or sticks or flowers or driftwood or rocks, etc.), even though they are transitory and will be swept away by wind or tide. (His most permanent are what he calls seeds, but actually look like teardrops, markers of some sort, that squat in pastures or at roadsides, just being themselves.) The scenes in the movie with his family, (wife and four little ones, all so amazingly healthy-looking) show Andy as kind of remote, as if his process percolates all the time beneath that smooth brow. He appears to be the world's most healthy man, not young with white hair, but his skin blooms with pinkness and his eyes are clear as the rivers he decorates. He speaks of art as his roots, of being rootless when not creating. I resonated with his idea of being layered, peeling them away to reveal the beauty within. Probably none of this is new to anyone but me. Just glad to be in on it now. God, I love college!
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