WALKING

I have been staying with my cousin in South London recently.  She has a beautiful labrador, and I love joining them on their daily ritual; walking .  And of course talking.  It’s the best way to clear your head. 

I am reminded of a show, well piece I saw last year.  It unlocked a lot of ideas in my mind about our relationship with art as individuals, and the responsibilities of an artist. I wrote this reflection for a job application recently.  

One of the most memorable and, mind the pun, moving pieces of work I experienced recently over the summer was called Walking by Robert Wilson; part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival and London 2012.  Taking place over an expanse of Norfolk coastline at Holkham estate, the piece itself was a three-hour solitary slow walk through nature, peppered with outdoor installation.

Experiencing the work required a genuine commitment on the audience’s behalf.  Taking part was a full day trip, adorned in wet weather gear and asked for willingness to temporarily sever contact with time and outside communication, parting from mobile phones and watches.  No small feat in a fast moving world.

Walking commenced as the audience was staggered, released individually following one by one to walk alone through a specific and varying path of landscape and sculpture, at a particular slow pace set by a guide.  And it was with this commitment, alone with your own thoughts, which carried a liberating opportunity to fully immerse in the experience, and being open to your individual interpretation.  Here is mine:

The first sculpture was a grand enclosed space centred on a giant and illusionary bottomless hole in the earth, emitting a thick drone; I could not help but feel reminded of an energy and presence greater than the individual.  Then following white round stones I walked through open pastures, later punctuated with another sculpture directly juxtaposing any sense of space- a long runway of tall wood planks closed in on either side.  After extensive meandering, through woods and dunes, only ever hearing the distant call of the ocean, came a large cone shaped structure that reached towards the sky, bookending the opening piece.  And out the other side, all of a sudden came the most simple and perfect ending- the expansive horizon of the sea herself; particularly powerful after feeling her presence throughout.  At this moment my journey felt complete.  But there was more delight to be had.  I was then invited to stand on a platform that tilted backward, to lie facing the sky and was then slowly winched back down to see the horizon from new perspective.  I felt unusually peaceful in those moments – to be lying horizontal on a beach in the rain; yet somehow I delighted in feeling the rain tickle my face.

What I love about Wilson’s work is his playfulness with the concept of time and creative exploration of meditative thought.  And the immense contract with the audience somehow felt so personal but carefully guided; yet you are given so much control over the outcome or meaning.

The work boasted tremendous production values and claimed tireless effort from an immense number of volunteers to operate it.  I understand it received criticism for its simplicity, most notably raising the question “why did I pay money for a walk in the countryside?” And indeed this was the very discussion raised with my companion moments after the finishing the experience. Ultimately the answer is yes, in a way it is just a walk in the countryside. But I was reminded of something much greater at play here, in that the primary role of art is sometimes to act as a frame; taking something pure like nature and changing the focus in which it is viewed to give new meaning and perspective on the world.  And for that, in my own individual experience and interpretation I felt enriched.