Leaning Into the Wind
Scottish landscape artist Andy Goldsworthy creates his stunning works of art from natural materials foraged from the landscape itself: stones, leaves, twigs, thorns, branches, flower petals, water, ice—documenting his creations (still photography, video) before leaving them in situ to be worked on by the elements. Leaning Into the Wind is a look at Goldsworthy's recent work in a range of settings around the globe: Brazil, Gabon, the United States, the south of France, the south coast of England, and Scotland, where he lives.
One of the main preoccupations of Goldsworthy's art is time: in particular the changes wrought—on the landscape, on his art—by the passage of time. One site that Goldsworthy has visited repeatedly, over many years, and in all seasons, is a small streambed, situated (I imagine) not far from his home. The path of this stream is marked out by a thin line of Dutch elms that follow the rill of water that tumbles endlessly downhill, over rocks, forming pools, carving a path through the green and rolling countryside. The elms, though, are dying, victims of Dutch elm disease. One particularly magnificent specimen died years ago, the trunk falling across the stream and shattering. Goldsworthy has made the fallen carcass of this tree the focus of many pieces—outlining the dark cracks in the trunk with golden leaves, for example, or filling them with snow—to highlight the process of death and decay.
Goldsworthy is a soft-spoken, thoughtful man, and when you spend two hours with him (as you do via this film) you find yourself gradually drawn into his slower way of thinking about and looking at the world. At one point Goldsworthy tells us that his definition of "nature" has changed; he now has a much broader sense of the word than he did when he first began, a definition that includes the urban environment—and even himself—as valid settings and elements for his art. There are significant differences, he points out, to what one sees, and therefore, what one thinks, when taking a slightly different path: following the hedge itself, for example (as he does in the photograph above) rather than the well-trodden footpath beside it.
This is a lovely film, and a lot of credit should be given to the camera operators, who make subtle and effective use of drones to achieve some amazing results.
Leaning Into the Wind is a sequel of sorts to Rivers and Tides, the 2001 documentary which was an audience favorite at that year's VIFF, and I would not be surprised to see Leaning Into the Wind earn similar accolades at this year's festival.
There's one more showing of Leaning Into the Wind during this year's VIFF: on Tuesday, October 10, 2017 at 10:30 AM.
