'Sunlight is necessary to it'

To what? Photosynthesis?

Actually, Henry Moore was talking about sculpture.

I'm doing quite a lot of work at the moment brokering partnerships between visual artists and agencies with green spaces where art might go. So I thought I'd post something on this blog about sculpture in the outdoors - my 'greatest hits' of the UK's open air galleries.

I would have started with Cowleaze Wood in Oxfordshire, previous home of the Chiltern Sculpture Trail, but sadly this has now closed. I've put in a proposal to re-imagine it as an outdoor arts space for the community, that Outdoor Culture would curate, so watch this space for news ...

The Eden Project in Cornwall, although not a specialist art site, has some accessible sculpture that reflects its mission to communicate the importance of plants. Best known for its iconic biomes (and therefore busiest on rainy days), Eden boasts some interesting artistic and horticultural attractions outside too. But my favourite is actually indoors, although lit by a giant skylight, and is set at the heart of Eden's education building, which was designed around it. This is 'Seed' by Peter Randall-Page.

'Seed' replicates the composition of seed heads within a flower. I enjoy work like this that responds to nature and relates to its setting. Randall-Page crops up in a few other sculpture sites, always exploring the mathematical beauty of the world. http://www.edenproject.com/

This piece by Neville Gable in the Forest of Dean Sculpture Trail is called 'Raw', which reminds the viewer that they are standing in a working timber forest with an industrial heritage:

It's an entire oak tree felled, cubed and re-installed in the clearing created by its felling. For me it has real authority and presence - a man-made form that could not be made of more natural or local material. It is completely at home in its setting because the tree lived and died here. I love its simplicity. The Forest of Dean has several other interesting pieces, including a nicely weathered Randall-Page piece, connected by a 4.5 mile trail. It's worth a visit. http://www.forestofdean-sculpture.org.uk/

The grandaddy of site-specific art in natural settings is the Forestry Commission's Grizedale Forest in Cumbria. It's a massive site - I spent a whole day in the woods there earlier this year, and I still only saw about half the art it contains. It's a fantastic alternative to the Lake District's mountains in bad weather, with the fruits of over 30 years of artists making work in the woods, like this classic 1990 piece from Andy Goldsworthy, 'Taking a wall for a walk'.



Goldsworthy is a giant in terms of art in the environment, and justifiably popular. This piece continues to respond to its setting: when foresters harvested the pine around it, they exposed the trees within the wall's folds to higher winds, and a few have blown over, taking pieces of wall with them. Apparently Goldsworthy doesn't want it fixed, which is lucky because his labour's not as cheap as it used to be ...

My favourite piece in Grizedale is 'Habitat' by Richard Caink. It's so playful and fun, how could anyone resist sitting in the armchair and chilling out in front of the timber telly? The forest home of our ancestors now replete with modern conveniences:

I sat there for ages, still and alone. I'd like to see Caink do a series of these, maybe with a bedroom and a bathroom, a kitchen and a garage. Perhaps he'd do me an office? www.forestry.gov.uk/norwestenengland

The Cass Sculpture Park is a funny place. Loads of sculpture to look at, and nearly all of it for sale, but all too often the price tag is more amusing than the art itself, and the commodification is distracting. Interesting piece? Maybe. Worth £75,000? Not really. Because the setting is essentially a display cabinet, the work can't be expected to relate to its surroundings - the sculpture park is merely a stopover on the journey to a more permanent home. The presentation of some works is also fairly poor, with barriers intruding on the experience. I may not be a collector but I did pay to get in you know ...

Despite the niggles, there is lots of contemporary art in the Cass site that is worth seeing. Some works even succeed in feeling comfortable in their environment. This fabulous piece by Rob Ward is called 'Gate'.

With its endless reflections, it is indeed like a magic portal to a secret forest just beyond reality. Its own form is barely there, and it takes a lot of inspection to discover the simplicity of its construction. I wonder how many birds it kills? http://www.sculpture.org.uk/

Probably the best place in the UK to see a strong permanent collection of outdoor art alongside top notch temporary exhibitions is the Yorkshire Sculpture Park http://www.ysp.co.uk/ . They've got a Gormley, a few Goldsworthys and a plethora of Moores. I just love the Deer Shelter 'Sky Space' by James Turrell. A Victorian facade leads in to a kind of space-age temple, where a chamber lined with pale stone seating offers a stunning view of the sky through a crisp-edged opening in the ceiling. Turrell's success lies in creating the frame; for bringing the dynamic beauty of the sky close enough to touch. My photos of the sky space don't do it justice - but here's one from Dafydd Thomas:

Larger-scale 'land art' like this that helps people read the world differently has an appeal that stretches right back to Stonehenge. Stone circles probably deserve their own article at some point so I won't go into them here.

Henry Moore said that he would prefer to see his work presented in any landscape, rather than within a building. For me, it follows that the landscape is the obvious place to create your own sculptures. Here is an ephemeral piece that my 3 and 4 year old children made in Cornwall this year. They're available for commissions at very reasonable rates ...

Treasure from afar

I've come across a great blog - http://loveinatent.blogspot.com/ - by a writer in New Zealand called Maple Kiwi, or Michelle to her friends. She's written a book called 'Sex in a Tent' - now that's my kind of outdoor culture. Warmer and more private than sex under a tarp. Would that be wild dogging?


I miss New Zealand, I really do. What a cool country - big hills, loads of gorgeous beaches, a rich Maori culture, nice beer, plenty of dub and they drive on the left. My family and I are due back there in February 2010 for my 40th birthday, but I'd like to go in 2009 too. In fact, I'd like to go every year! The only problem is how to pay for the yeti-like carbon footprint of flying as far as you possibly can without actually going into orbit...



My 3 year old daughter said the other day that her favourite place in the world is Heather and Trevor's farm on South Island. It's alongside the Waimakariri river, down the road from Arthur's Pass and this limestone wonderland, Kura Tawhiti, meaning treasure from afar. This stunning location is a classic example of compromise between recreational, scientific and spiritual land users. The site has cultural significance to the ngai tahu people, and is also a designated conservation area for its rare plants. Despite the offence it causes to ngai tahu, the area is popular with rock climbers and boulderers. It's hard to avoid comparisons with Uluru in Australia, where Aboriginal wishes are ignored by hundreds of climbers on a daily basis and the cultural divide is shocking: 'It's just a rock' said the taxi driver. In the UK, we can't even touch Stonehenge, and I'm not sure which is the worse state of affairs.


My friends Matt and Janelle had a baby boy recently in their Auckland home. They married in 2004 at the aforementioned South Island farm. I wrote a song for the occasion called Festival of Love, which you can hear at www.reverbnation.com/wilburkyle . I can't wait to get back to Aotearoa and meet the boy.



Did I mention the gorgeous beaches? This is Maitai Bay, at the end of Northland's Karikari peninsula. It's perhaps my favourite beach in the world. We got up there in February this year, and were just thinking about Barry and Marlene, a Kiwi couple we'd last seen there on our previous visit in 2001. Naturally, they rocked up again in 2008 within minutes of our arrival. Now I know NZ has a small population, but come on!

Get off the moor!

I knew something was amiss when I noticed the pools of water inside my tent. I’d set off the previous afternoon for a 3 day walk over Dartmoor, and the last forecast I’d seen was for showers and sunny spells. I’d walked over Water Hill in the rain, enjoying the irony, got a bit lost in Fernworthy Forest, admired a rainbow and set up my tent at Teignhead Farm, an old abandoned homestead in a remote valley. I’d gathered some dead wood and impressed myself by getting a reasonable fire going despite the damp fuel and conditions. The evening was beautiful: moonlight, the warmth of a fire, a luxurious can of beer and even a shooting star to wish on.

I awoke to high winds and heavy rain lashing the tent around dawn. Fine. I hid in the tent, waiting for the weather to break. For ages. It kept raining. Then I noticed the tent starting to flood. Bugger. I got dressed and left the tent to have a look around. The stream that I’d camped next to was dividing and multiplying: a new course was flowing past right next to my tent. The hollow in which I’d made a fire was now 2 feet deep in water. The spare logs I’d stood up to keep them clear of the damp ground were now bobbing about like little boats. The stream was beginning to flow over the stone bridge by which I’d crossed it. Water was everywhere. I had the strong sense of a river rising from the ground beneath me. I’d planned a wild swim in the Dart below Mel Tor for later that evening, but the water feature had arrived earlier and less romantically.

I assessed my situation. Conditions overhead: rubbish. Conditions underfoot: rubbish. Sleeping bag: sodden. I’d brought my much-loved soft shell jacket but left my proper raincoat at home to save weight. No sign of a sunny interval anywhere. I was way beyond my comfort zone into the adventure zone, and I could almost see the border with misadventure. There was only one sensible option: get off the moor! I packed up and retreated.

Taking the easy forest road back past the sublime Fernworthy stone circle, I met a kindly forester who gave me a lift back to my car. When I told him where I’d camped, his response was ‘Oh shit!’

Dartmoor 1, Al 0.

I got the photo for this blog from http://www.dartmoorperspectives.co.uk/