Another place

It was the most beautiful day to be taken to Another Place.

Anthony Gormley’s 100 statues on Crosby beach near Liverpool could be a bit spooky, a bit hopeful, a bit sombre… It seems as if your interaction with and reaction to the figures is not only based on them as objects, and a set of objects, but their ever-changing costal environment and weather as well.

They are as statuesque as you’d expect from the man who created the Angel of the North: Gormley seems to have a preoccupation with the transformation and elevation of the human form, and equally its place amongst the rest of the built and natural environments.

The individual figures, which are spread across more than 6km of beach, were rarely left standing alone (although some yesterday were past their knees in water, and further too). They were most easily identifiable by looking for a small huddle of two or three people at random intervals across the sands, which I thought said something about the attraction of community and being in relationship with others, as well as the attraction of the meandering from figure to figure in a sort of haphazard pilgrimage. (We walked from figure no. 96 to no. 14, the rest being rendered inaccessible by the tide.)

And what are they “thinking” as they look out to the horizon? Each time I saw another face, another body, resolutely looking out to sea, I came up with another reason, maybe even 100 reasons…
Of the futility of human endeavour?
Of our human smallness?
Of our attempt to travel, to conquer, to bring back, to transport?
Of the monotony of the horizon and its unending barrier between sea and sky?
Of turning their backs on the mess of the power station and container port?
Of acting in defiance or solidarity?
Of hopefully waiting for help or a sign or an arrival?
Of America, new starts, loved ones left behind or en route?
Of what had been, what was, what could be?

Perhaps, I wondered idly as we wended our way back, they’re simply making a stand.