Approaching the monument (1)
Henry Moore's Large Reclining Figure (1984); Perry Green, Much Hadham, Hertfordshire (the place where the sculptor lived and had his studio). There is plenty of information on Henry Moore and this sculpture too. I just want to restrict myself to giving an account of my inner landscape when approaching this sculpture and the topography around it. Using a short lens (Leica M8 plus Voigtlaender 35/1.4) I have to walk a long way towards the monument. I can see the figure of a reclining person (a woman) from far away. Through the pastures where the sheep are grazing. As if art and nature were undivided. As if approaching a sanctuary with animals under divine protection. There is an aura of sacredness, and I am perplexed whether the figure on the mount has a religious quality. Am I on a pilgrimage? The figure can't be "explained", it is impervious to my analysis. But this bronze figure cuts straight into my emotional underbelly, and makes me forget for a moment the clutter of institutional normality. An encounter. A conversation that was all the time within me, but me not listening.
Approaching the monument (1)
Henry Moore's Large Reclining Figure (1984); Perry Green, Much Hadham, Hertfordshire (the place where the sculptor lived and had his studio). There is plenty of information on Henry Moore and this sculpture too. I just want to restrict myself to giving an account of my inner landscape when approaching this sculpture and the topography around it. Using a short lens (Leica M8 plus Voigtlaender 35/1.4) I have to walk a long way towards the monument. I can see the figure of a reclining person (a woman) from far away. Through the pastures where the sheep are grazing. As if art and nature were undivided. As if approaching a sanctuary with animals under divine protection. There is an aura of sacredness, and I am perplexed whether the figure on the mount has a religious quality. Am I on a pilgrimage? The figure can't be "explained", it is impervious to my analysis. But this bronze figure cuts straight into my emotional underbelly, and makes me forget for a moment the clutter of institutional normality. An encounter. A conversation that was all the time within me, but me not listening.