Anchored and present: contemporary art that’s always open
Without being in what you might consider a very cultural area, my house is within two miles from two different Lawrence Weiner works in Radcliffe, two and a half miles away from Ulrich Rückriem’s Untitled Stones at Outwood Trail, and less than one mile from David Appleyard’s Californian Fruits at Whitefield Park. Being so close to both Manchester and Bury, it has taken a pandemic-triggered national lockdown and abstinence from public transport to recognise more fully the art on my actual doorstep. Works by artists of international importance can be discovered less than thirty minutes away from my bowl of Rice Krispies. The destinations are perfect for planning walking or running routes I can do from my house, without a car, within one hour. If you live anywhere near the River Irwell, then the likelihood is, you can do the same.
Described on the Tate website as one of the central figures in the formation of conceptual art in the 1960s, Lawrence Weiner is best known for his text-based works. The two that reside at Radcliffe, illuminate what it is, to be anchored and present within those particular geographical locations, adjacent to the river-side environment. Water Made it Wet, sits open, proud, and bluntly honest — with as little subtlety as the bridge that frames it, or the old and unused Bury-Rochdale canal where it is seen from. To their credit, people in my area aren’t exactly backwards at coming forwards, and neither is this piece of contemporary art. It’s loud, but not obnoxious.
The second work by Weiner at Radcliffe, Over the Horizon is a sort of juxtaposed poem, that is somehow close, yet also beyond grasp as the words fall away from full view. The words are as close to the river as they can be, both physically and linguistically. This image was shot on an IPhone 6s, zoomed in a little, and as close to the work as possible, without actually being in the River. Only one side of the Irwell has a path on this particularly wide stretch, so I find myself leaning over one corner of the bridge, at the most favourable viewpoint, using the zoom of my IPhone to see it better. This is a work that’s difficult to see; photograph; or even read in its entirety, as we struggle to find the best position in which to read the words, they delineate the water and fall from view; along the curve and over the horizon, like the river itself.
These two works by Weiner provide moments for isolated stimulation and a sort of cognitive anchoring within the immediate environment — Internally I question, how does it feel to be in this precise location right now, looking at this thing, from this position, in this way. It’s the sort of clarity of thought one might look for in an art gallery completely immersed within a work — but this is outside, and near my house — remaining open all this time.
I long for this frame of mind when out running. I’ll consciously not listen to music in a bid to be more present, whilst using the activity as a vehicle to meditate on ideas, expand trailing thought, and examine internal monologues. Having public art as geographical markers opens new perimeters to the activity, and a new thing to process on the way back again. Using the river and canal as routes, I’ve discovered that there are art galleries surrounding me, all over the place, holding work by some of the leading figures of contemporary art and giving stimulus for new trailing thoughts as well as ideas for the return journey.
Rivers have always been vital to human civilisation; towns and cities are built around them for fundamental reasons — we need water for trade and sustenance. We’ve even created our own rivers, in the form of canals. I think it’s safe to say that canals have certainly found new use for leisure from their original industrial purpose, but perhaps Rivers have also found new purpose in our new world of globalisation and climate change — they provide respite from the built environment; habitats for wildlife; space for trees; and better air quality for cycling, running and walking. As cities expand and population increases, what does the future hold for rivers and waterways in a world where green spaces become more precious and wildlife abandons our paved landscapes? Will we find ourselves making more canals — but this time for the transportation of well-being, rather than manufactured goods?
