Today shall henceforth be known as The Day of Getting Very Wet for my Art. With just a month to go of the fantastic Jaume Plensa exhibition at Yorkshire Sculpture Park and most of those working days, dammit, I needed get over there with my camera.
The fact that it was so wet I passed two partially-completed arks and a queue of animals and birds in pairs, looking quite anxious, except for the ducks, didn’t deter me. It was, I told the cagoule-clad hikers waiting for their cappuccinos at the cafe, an opportunity to explore textures, reflections and the slippery properties of mud. I’m not sure they were convinced as I headed out into the deluge, my camera concealed in my own cagoule and lenses protected by a huge umbrella.
It’s quite a skill to focus the camera while wedging an umbrella between my armpit and shoulder, and avoid slipping on the mud. I can honestly say I was the only person daft enough to splash across the waterlogged fields. I didn’t do much science at school, but I remember very well the lesson where we learned about capillary action. Our wonderful and diminutive physics teacher Mr Fry pointed out to us first formers that within five minutes of standing in a puddle, the wet would have reached our knees. He was wrong, within five minutes my knickers were wet through and my scarf was starting to shrink – that’s wool for you. Fortunately the camera stayed dry. Oh the sacrifices I make for my art!