Years ago Linda was on the board of the International Sculpture Center and met Peter Murray, a genial Brit who was just as bemused as to its purpose as she was.  They kept in touch and when we were in London nine years ago we’d planned to visit his sculpture park in Yorkshire, but never made it.  This time we were determined, so our first Monday found us on the Virgin train for two hours at incredibly high speed [by third world/U.S. standards] to Wakefield, Yorkshire, long in the planning and much anticipated.

Trains are faster and quieter in the First World…dunno how fast, but it was fast.  Smooth and quiet, also; nothin’ to do but sit back and shoot hundreds of pictures…

We sailed past fields with mysteriously rising fogs to be picked up at the station in a Range Rover from the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, which dates to 1977 when Peter, an artist and lecturer at Bretton Hall College, put together an exhibition on the grounds which went over so well that by September he was able to open the Park with a small grant from the local Arts Council.

YSP was half an hour ride from the station, and considerably more impressive than anticipated; Peter came down to meet us and filled us in on the history as we walked to the new “underground gallery” for a look at a major show of peripatetic sculptor/architect Not Vital [pronounced like “Vidal”, a family from the same small Romansch tribe in the remote Engadin Valley of Switzerland], a world traveler ranging from his native village of Sent [where he has a sculpture park of his own] to do projects with craftspeople in studios worldwide…the polished hand-chased stainless steel heads above, for instance, realized in China. Crazy impressive, like the park itself…which, Peter Murray’s life’s work, now comprises 500 acres, a visitor center, restaurant, gift shop, four galleries, dozens of outdoor sculptures, year-round programs and more…

We were treated most graciously to lunch in the aforementioned restaurant [overlooking a portion of those groomed green acres], after which Linda had a chance to show some recent works and Peter then handed us off to Alan, head of grounds, facilities and installations, for a whirlwind [of necessity, given all there was to see in just a couple of hours] tour of the Vast Estate; a South African sound piece in the chapel [not shown here]; the ubiquitous Moores [a Yorkshireman, it turns out]; Bretton house, slated to soon become a five star hotel;

Dennis Oppenheim…

Nigel Hall, “Crossing [horizontal]”

KAWS, an American graffitti artist gone mainstream…

Julian Opie’s “Running Horse”

and an exhibit in the Longside Gallery, a former indoor riding arena they share with the British Arts Council, curated from the combined collections by Ryan Gander…

then a quick run back and across and to see Not’s drawings in the Garden Gallery [all these amazingly re-purposed agricultural spaces!] and works – “Tongue” and a version of his “House to Watch the Sunset” [the first one, 2005, built of mud bricks in Agadez, Niger] – on the upper lawn…

…finally Vital’s “Moon” and a cordial goodbye from Peter, whose own work, the result of a lifetime building this place, is so moving and impressive.  What a day…

Then again…

on down the line; even more pics as the sun sank

on a very fast train into nearly the night

to London

where Rick awaited at the Hampstead Tube in his immaculate 14 year old Saab wagon

with dinner waiting, squid pasta, cod, beans…

A rigorous life.

Tomorrow we Take to the Tate!

Ha.

M