An Encounter with Richard Long
Having had the pleasure of conversing (briefly) with Sir Richard Long, I find myself admiring his stubborn persistence.
He initially struck me as a moody old man, distant in memories of his own generation. He rejects all modern technology except the camera, which he only goes so far as to tolerate. Photography to him is just a tool to document his otherwise largely inaccessible land art, a concept I hesitated to understand. Moreover, in his lecture he spoke plainly on his thought process when making art, which boils down to intuition.
I guess I was initially unsatisfied by his blunt honesty and spontaneity. Having studied art history for a while now and trained to dissect every minute detail in composing an artistic narrative, I expected more complex ideologies behind the medium and his creation process.
Richard Long, Rhythm and Blues, 2011. Photograph: Ken Adlard/Courtesy Lisson Gallery
Such subjectivity in Long’s ideology was what puzzled me, so much so that I finally gave into his subjectivity, and realised perhaps this is where beauty lies. We tend to be so caught up on forms and appearance that we forget to look for the humanity in art. I thought I ought to focus on him as a person before approaching his art. Perhaps it is the art historian’s duty to listen to the artist before analysing their works.
I began understanding how he sees himself in accordance with nature. He places himself as a part of the natural world. Much like indigenous tribes who are self-sustainable, his works too leave a temporary mark on land and soon vanish themselves through nature’s self-recovery. He is not at all concerned with the transcendence of his works or his presence.
He enjoys what we consider as mundane activities like walking or placing stones in circles. It is the moment of creation he becomes immersed in, the mental state of meditation and of escape, unbothered by anything else. The moment belongs only to him and a piece of nature.
Richard Long, Circle in the Andes, 1972. Photograph: Courtesy Lisson Gallery
A strong sense of his personality started to come through. To confirm my thoughts, I asked him (rather timidly) ‘are you an idealist?’ He answered thoughtfully after a moment of hesitation, ‘yes, I believe so’. And I believe this shall be my starting point of analysis.
Yella Qui is a budding art historian studying at the University of St Andrews. Yella is passionate about all visual forms of creativity, aesthetic or ugly. She spends most of her time contemplating on the ethics behind her love for Gaugin. But fear not, as she also found passion in Jacob van Ruisdael, Yumeji Takehisa and Harry Clarke, whose moralities as artists remain less of a debate (therefore she is not morally plagued, leave her alone for liking Gauguin). She only writes on ideas that press into her chest and feels cannot be ignored. To see more of her work, check out her instagram page on art-related writings, each one a relief from chest pain felt at some point in her life.