Force Of Nature: David Nash, sculptor

[belfastguzzi]

Programme on BBC4 now brings back great memories. A documentary on sculptor, David Nash: one of the new nature/landscape artists of the late sixties/seventies (through to now).

 

 

He bought a dis-used chapel, Capel Rhiw, in Blaenau Ffestiniog (the wettest place/highest rainfall in wet Wales) and built it as a home and studio. I stayed there for a week in 1978. He wasn't around much because he was busy with filming – and here in the doc is archive from that very film. Pictures of the Chapel and the great slate mines of Blaenau, exactly as I remember. The chapel space, wood, great boughs of wood; the Tripod, the Running Table; slate.

 

 

The other important part of that great 1978 memory was a marvellous bike trip, with the Blaenau visit in the middle.

Honda XL250 trail bike, rucsack strapped on the back, packed with minimal gear of small tent, food and thin down sleeping bag. A weekend camping and climbing in the Lake District; down into Wales, riding through the mountains; camping down by rivers, waking early, damp and riding cold 'til the sun would warm the air, then stopping to spread matted sleeping bag and clothes to be revived by sun-ray.

Opening clink of steel Optimus box preceding the hiss and roar of the petrol stove.

 

Single cylinder bike, knobbly tyres, canvas and down, wood, water, stone, air, steel and brass and petrol, a fork, a spoon, a map.

Some photos in a box now

and happy surprise of switching on midnight tv, into an expanse of something rare: mostly forgotten, yet it will always be there.

 

Nothing much on youtube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vrQ8I98b9o&feature=related

 

 

Found this mention on a blog > jamesewin.blogspot.com/2011/02/force-of-nature-sculpture-of-david-nash

[jrt]

XL250, eh? I knew there was something not-quite right with you. I used to ride my XL250 all over central Texas when I worked in the oil field. Summer, winter, rain or shine....well, it was never 'shine', as I worked the night tour. I remember some ferocious cold mornings and many a ride down a riverbed, though! I liked how the exhaust would gurgle under the water.

 

Really, those are great windows into the past, Belfast. Your descriptions transcend individuals or locals; I have similar fond memories of youthful discretions.

Cheers,