My question for Mr. Andy Goldsworthy….. [please forward]

I am sorry to say that this isn’t a joke…. if anyone, EVER, knows how to reach Mr. Goldsworthy, I would love you to pass this along to him.  I am quite serious… and I believe that others would be enthralled by the concept and answer.  If that’s arrogant, I pray you never see true vanity.

At the end of the City Arts & Lecture series featuring Mr. Goldsworthy, who spent much time telling the local San Francisco audience about his work in the Presidio, the floor was opened up to questions in a somewhat haphazard and dizzying way.  Surely I may enjoy hearing myself speak, from time to time, as it is known, like the yawning, babbling words that tap out on this keyboard – but I legitimately wanted to ask him a question that was, unfortunately, not meant to be. A lucky little hipster got to ramble about something that made him feel smart, while vapidly filling space with a question that had been answered earlier.  It was a deflating way to end the eve, to be sure.

But my question had to do with permanence – something so deeply held by myself…. a mortal awareness of permanence, or complete lack thereof.  It really has to do with the nature of art and his relationship to his own works.

For those in attendance, the following should make a modicum of sense:

(My question which would be politely shorter than this):

One of my favorite paintings, Caspar Von Friedrich’s “Cloister graveyard in snow”, doesn’t exist. Well it does. But it doesn’t.

Lost Works that do not exist still exist and are not so lost.

It was destroyed by fire in the Friedrichshain Flakturm, following the capture of Berlin, in May 1945.

It doesn’t exist. But there are high quality images and somehow scans that exist of it.

How does that impact the existence of it as art?

This would be the reference point I could use… however it is more of a subtle background to my question, and likely not as important as the direct question for Andy….

I wanted to ask about the temporal nature of art, what it means to have art “exist” and how it exists, and what it means to him to have “permanent art” that no longer exists, but which he can view on film… and see as “existing”, long after it’s permanent nature has evaporated.

I would love to buy him a pint or a tea and then chat with him about elaborating on what relationship he has to his art as it exists in reality, as it exists on film, and as it exists in memory.

a) I assume this would be a documentary length answer, and b) he would never have time to sit down with me.

However, I am part of building an adorable 22 room inn about 100 yards from the Spire, so there’s that too. If you know him well, as I assume all artists do, please pass this along to him. Yes, that is sarcasm.  I am sure that few know him; do not strike with swift retort.

=)

After the lecture, I took Lauren to the Spire right at dusk… it was still light enough to see, for a moment…. and as the night waxed it was all about texture and relationship to the space it created.  Even from day to night it isn’t permanent, to some extent.  I am *no* Derrida fan, but how does it exist when you can’t see it?  If you haven’t seen it and it exists during the veil of night, and you stare at it…. what is your relationship to that work?  Is it simply memory as a placeholder to what exists? As it disappears into the dark sky and becomes little more than shadow and texture… what is the relationship between you, or the Presidio?  What if, upon dawn’s crack… it wasn’t there.  Does memory suffice? What about a photo?  How would Mr. Goldsworthy relate to either each of the three, and how do they interact?

I had been there many times, but never really noticed all the saplings that have grown so fast. He is quite rare…. and it REALLY comforts me, if not of grandiose assumption, that someone else contemplates things far too deeply, while still breaking out of preconceptions and assumptions of time, and again, permanence.

To explain my rambly nature, I am in Mexico, just lost my mind on tequila and a spider vein sky of lightning and madness. I’ve never seen anything like it so I am feeling slightly uppity with a more poetic lexicon. =) I know you won’t mind. I would be in trouble but the liquor acted much swifter on the wifey. Such is my nature to sit in the dark and ponder. HUZZAH!

Say hi to Andy for me.