Holding Mr Gormley's Cold Cast Iron Hand

Waiting for the tide

Today I met some of Antony Gormley's cast iron, life size figures, which are spread out the foreshore at Crosby.  Known as Another Place, the installation is made up of 200 figures, all made from casts of the artist's own body, and shown at different stages of rising from the sand.  

Number 21 and I get acquainted.  

Antony Gormley states that Another Place "harnesses the ebb and flow of the tide to explore man's relationship with nature", saying: 

"This sculpture exposes to light and time the nakedness of a particular and peculiar body. It is no hero, no ideal, just the industrially reproduced body of a middle-aged man trying to remain standing and trying to breathe, facing a horizon busy with ships moving materials and manufactured things around the planet."

I don't remember when the awareness of Another Place first seeped into my consciousness, but I do know that it's been on my bucket list for some time.  We had hoped to drive to Crosby last month when we were in Chester, but were thwarted by snow, and lots of it.   Armed with a cheap rail ticket offer from London Midland, today was the day to go and meet the Gormleys.

Eager to see them, I fairly bounded up Hall Road to the coastguard station.  And there they were, as starkly outlined as I'd imagined against a low tide, the industrial landscape, and a line of wind turbines.

I had heard that they spent some time dressed up, and Number 22 had a particularly fetching outfit for the day, although somewhat unsuited for the weather.

His poor feet looked very chilly, and I loved the way that the sea life had taken over.

 

Number 22's bracelets: the original and the new.

This may sound rather odd, but tonight I feel strangely content.

Tomorrow - the superlambananas, some perspex, and more of Liverpool...