100 photographs of Jupiter

 

9th September.
For a while I'd been thinking about a trip to Jupiter Artland on the outskirts of Edinburgh. So when Nick said he had some time off work and how about we meet for a catch up, I proposed we do the out-of-town sculpture park. I did some homework the day before, printing out maps and having an online look at the place so I knew where we'd be going and what we'd be seeing. As it turned out although that proved useful preparation and instructive, all you really need to know is on a double sided A3 (free) handout (map one side, list of works and artists on the other) which they give you in exchange for the entry fee as you go up the driveway to this West Lothian country estate.

very easy to follow map showing what is where,

on the reverse is a sketch and descrition of each piece with name of work and artist

Nicky and Robert Wilson bought Bonnington House in 1999, a hundred acre estate between Kirknewton and Ratho, in gently undulating countryside. Since then they have been commissioning artists to make work for the grounds, opening it to the public ten years later in 2009.

They see themselves as philanthropists; his background is homeopathy, hers is sculpture, and clearly they have a lot of money that they have put into this project. How many of us, having had enough cash to buy a country estate (from which to escape from London), would then throw open the gates to the great unwashed to come have a poke around what they've created. It is an impressively generous circumstance although the distance out of town and the sizeable entry fee probably keeps a large proportion of the riff-raff out. £13 a head is somewhere between cake'n'coffee and a meal. (Quite a bit less than entry to the zoo, but £13 more than going to the Botanics, Chamber St Museum, and a walk in the Pentlands.) Would it feel value for money, would it satisfy our art hunger? 

I suspect Nick and I could easily name ten activities we'd do before pencilling in Jupiter Artland for a visit. The fact neither of us has been in the 17 years it has been available tells you all you need to know. That said Nick was at The Oresteia (in London) recently; 3.5hrs of Greek tragedy, (two intervals) and stayed to the end. And, more impressively, enjoyed it.

How would Jupiter Artland fare by comparison? 

hideous plastic flower

I originally had Wednesday set aside for another trip to Saltoun. It was the best weather forecast of the week although as it got closer, so the forecast faded. It would still be dry but less sunshine made an outdoor gallery a better choice for the day. Nick kindly offered to pick me up and drive us to the venue. As a thank you for that, I'd buy our entry tickets and he could buy the coffee-and-cake at the cafe.

Unforeseen obligations set back the kick-off and we only arrived for a 2pm start. However the weather was possibly finer in the afternoon than the morning, so it was no great hardship. I had made a note of the route out of Edinburgh - West to Calder Road, cross the bypass, follow the A71 for 4.5 miles then turn off to the B7051 and you will see the sign. Easy.

It was mainly the travelling that discouraged a previous visit on my part. I hadn't got round to realising there is a bus stop virtually at the front gate, also it is a potential cycle, also you could walk 30mins (or cycle) from Kirknewton Rail Station. The estate is 100acres - compare that to the Edinburgh Botanics which is around 70. The info suggested 2hrs was enough to get round all the sculptures. We were nearer three but enjoyed chatting about the art and everything else, and weren't under any constraints other than the place closing around 5 and to get out the car park by 5.30pm.

Hare Hill by Henry Castle

The works are numbered but you can visit them in any order. We stuck with a mostly chronological version of the order on the back of the map, only missing a couple of the named works. The first one was a hideous plastic flower, top heavy and ugly as sin.

Moving quickly to number two I was much more taken by Hare Hill by Henry Castle, this large replica bomb sculpture is presented on a polished granite plinth. The bomb is cast bronze with rubber fins and it looks exactly like the one on the German Ju88 that failed to deliver it to Leith Docks when it ran aground on the Pentland Hills (Hare Hill) on the 25th March 1943, a handful of miles away, killing all 4 crewmen who were aged 21, 21, 23 and 30. A tragedy and yet...

If this rings a bell it might be due to a number of us visiting the crash site in 2018 as part of the final ever Tynecastle Bronze 30+mile run. I felt a sympathy for the 4 young airmen despite their mission, because they ended up forever resting in peace on our patch, a long way from home, at an age when I was daft and spent all my time doing considerably less responsible things.

I liked the simple form of the presentation here. A reminder of what the the four German airmen were endeavouring to deliver to a place where my grandfather occasionally worked. There was also a small plaque on the boundary endwall (pictured below) and there should have been a small 14" wingspan aeroplane model cast in bronze attached to the wall beside the plaque. It was unclear if the aeroplane had been removed for a reason other than theft. A second cast had been made of the plane and that one was buried in a shallow grave randomly near the hard-to-find memorial on Hare Hill. I have considered borrowing or renting a metal detector for a rainy day project.

I liked this one a lot: 9 out of 10

missing in action
should be a bronze Ju88 model here

Next up, Rivers by Tania Kovats. Sitting on the picturesque duck pond is a very lovely wood-built boathouse. The watery gap between its longer sides insists viewers stay on one side and the work on the other. Although the boathouse might also be the work. A white interior makes a good stage for the rare occasions the sunlight bounces off the water and throws shadows and reflections up the walls of the boathouse.

The different shaped bottles are pleasant but lack any gravitas beyond their chemistry lab quirkiness. Since the contained water has been distilled and is therefore identical in each vessel, the work is reduced to a concept. Do we really know or care it has been collected from a hundred different rivers, (all named in 2 neatly carved columns outside,) now it has had any distinguishing characteristics removed?

What was the point in that? You can be sure a kayaker, fisherfolk or swimmer would have a far more vibrant account of 100 different waterways. To me this is an almost asinine solution. A watered down story, a diluted truth, although anyone who enjoys sets or collecting similar items can easily savour the placing of some attractive glassware on shelves all sealed uniformly with big orange stoppers. What's not to like? As long as you don't ask the question what story does this tell, it passes muster and looks suitably gallery-worthy. Especially when the sun shines and throws reflections, refractions, shadows and twinkles up the white painted walls. 

I'd give this an 8 out of 10 as it stands. But if you took away the handsome boathouse and pond which add most of the ambience and structure, then I'd give the conceptual art of literally indifferent water samples from 100 rivers a 5 out of 10. Maybe even a 4 for the disservice to the 100 rivers which have probably never come in for such character assassination.

BTW looking at other people's youTubes of Jupiter Artland it seems they have to take the water vessels indoors during the Winter, presumably avoiding a freeze. Another half point deducted for lack of foresight and outdoors suitability, although I quite liked the circular dust rings left in the absence of flasks.

unmemorable waterways poorly recalled

but stored in a way to create an artwork more impressive than its consideration

Next: Animitas by Christian Boltanski. On the island of the duck pond are rust coloured pencil-thick wire stakes driven into the ground. From them hang small Japanese bells with labels hanging down from the clappers. Or to catch the wind and work as clappers. When the wind blows it makes a pleasant tinkling noise. One of the few installations to use auditory effects. In fact without the sound it might be a bit weak but the sound justifies the visuals while the whole thing sidesteps the accusation of oh it's just a wind chimes thing. No it's not just wind chimes, they are Japanese bells and they "let out the 'music of souls'" and reproduce the map of the stars on the night Boltanski was born.  

This piece works well as long as you don't analyse it too much. The isolation of the island helps with this as you can only see it from a distance and perhaps buy into the hype without too much scrutiny. In its favour the bells are a good choice of musical instrument and make a noise on the right side of the thin line that wind chimes can straddle. Sort of thing you think oh that's nice for the first five minutes you hear it then after a while you realise it was placed out of earshot for a reason. 

The tags look like they might be elevated evidence labels. Marking where the casings of a murderous spree fell as an island inhabitant went postal with a semi-automatic weapon. But other than that it's all in the ear department. 

I had neither loved nor hated this work. (Maybe a 6/10 as it had quite a bit of pretentious artspeak, and really it was just tinkling bells.) Nick reckoned a few stars of the night sky had come loose and there might have been some bell-less stakes or stake-less bells, but my eyes were not young enough to discern and I didn't have the wildlife zoom lens on my camera.

 

I had my street lens on and really enjoyed trying to take arty shots and reasonable likenesses of everything today with my 12~60 lens. I had the big zoom in my back pack in case any tigers crept out the undergrowth but there was no call for it today and the street (kit) lens is so light and bright by comparison that I really enjoyed using it. Oddly I forgot to shoot any video. There are a few youTubes folk have shot on phones or action cams if you want moving images. 

this was as close a crop as I could get with the 60mm lens
(120mm full frame equivalent)

Regular readers will know I didn't love Andy Goldsworthy's much-loved retrospective in the National Gallery recently. I knew he had several works here and I hoped they would be more like his earlier work, a clever celebration of natural materials in an outdoor setting, than of his later works; dire and gloomy reflections on death and misery, lacking a light touch, lacking a joy of materials or indeed any aesthetic considerations. This first piece, Stone Coppice was an abomination.

Coppiced trees were gifted a large sharp edged boulder and forced to support the ungainly weight for the rest of time, slowly contorting to absorb the punishment of the jagged rocks. Why would someone torture trees like this? It seemed like a form of deliberate cruelty and (worse still) with the promise of tending the work and perhaps placing more of these stones at a later date. Bet the trees can't wait. 

Nick was reminded of a similar accident we came across in Spain where a tree trunk had grown up through the spokes of an abandoned bicycle wheel. The sort of magic trick that requires years to mature into a puzzle that can never be disentangled (without a hacksaw.). A bicycle wheel has a certain charm. This installation, other than being part of a pleasant wood, had none.

It was like a deliberate cruelty and I suspect some of the ground based boulders, the ones of a size you could manipulate without mechanical help, had maybe been set free from their erstwhile treehouse lifestyles by concerned onlookers. Whatever the arboreal equivalent of the animal liberation front might be. 

Possibly the only work in the place employing malice. If that was the intention it should score more highly than 1 out of 10, but why would you do that?

We had a look for the Sara Barker painted metal construction piece somewhere between the duck pond and the large Jencks earthwork but could not find it. I wasn't unduly concerned as it didn't seem great (at all) on the website. However there were moments when I found the reality of the pieces considerably different from my anticipation of what they would be like. So we probably should have looked harder. Next time!

One of the most imposing pieces you can't help but notice on the drive into the place is the dominant form of Charles Jencks Cells of Life a massive terraced earthwork with swooping contours and summit sculptures. It is really impressive and so much more so if you have a quick look at the video of JCBs and earthmoving equipment working a massive field of mud in the video here.

To see it now it makes you think all they had to do was lift some soil from the excavated pond and put it in terraces making hills like the bunkers on a golf course. Then pat it down with a shovel and Bob's your uncle. To see the video you can get a tiny idea of seven years of mudslides, quagmire and wondering if it will ever be finished, an eternal nightmare and filthy shit-hole at the entrance to your lovely house!

Charles Jencks "was a pioneer of landforming as a synthesis of sculpture, garden design and conceptual thought. His large-scale landforms are inspired by prehistoric earthworks and by the most advanced scientific understandings of nature". 

It is now finished and apparently "comprises eight landforms and a connecting causeway which surround 4 lakes and flat parterre" (a what?) and apparently it references the "cellular process of mitosis". (Cell division.) Myself, I get tired very quickly of pretentious artspeak and expose it when I see it. I suspect Jencks of being a bit language-flamboyant (although I was glad to hear he favours science over spooky.) But I like his garden design. A lot. I have only seen his Belford Road piece for comparison and it is tiny compared to this which has to be the big brother of all Jencks's work. And this piece is very well made.

I am drawn to work that shows craft and skill. This has a very particular style and it must have been a pig to build. Walking around it I couldn't see any badly drawn curves or dislocated bits that didn't blend swooshily into other bits. I don't like large paintings that use scale as a stand-in for importance. Look-at-me ego-works when an artist says my painting is bigger than all the other paintings in this gallery and therefore better somehow. But the scale here allows for loads of different viewpoints and as you walk around it, it changes and presents aspects and designs that also change with the weather and the reflections on the watery bits. 

impressive!
(although something of a collaboration with the sky)

Nick looks for a hole in one
(nothing like a crazy golf course)

So has it earned a 10/10? Well, no.
A 9 maybe but (in my opinion) he snatched defeat from the jaws of victory with the small stuff. The silly wee add-ons which just don't make visual sense to me. There seemed to be some white stone or cement forms on the high points that looked from a distance like large sperms. I couldn't disassociate them from the white markers on gold courses at tee-off areas, that might tell you how long the next hole is and where you should aim. And there was a heart-shaped thing atop a column with water running down a leaded gutter over some (hand sized) spaghetti worm casts that trapped silt and sludge.

spag balls

I felt the tiny details on a massive sportsfield-of-an-earthwork were distractions and extraneous in the extreme. Jencks built an amazing place and then added some water feature I wouldn't look twice at in Homebase. I didn't see the white hump-top sperms close enough to understand what they represented but felt they did not add anything except cheese on top. (Normally I'm a fan.) But on this scale it felt like putting googly eyes on an otherwise sober artwork. Or a plate of pasta in the corner of a football field. Let's face it if you haven't pulled off the work with those terraces of manicured grass, a fistsized bowl of worms is not going to make it all fall into place. Oh now I get it! Nope. A solid nine. 

being fairly central (and large) the Jencks work
can be seen through the trees from all around the venue

I was very impressed they encourage folk to walk all over the work. (But keep off the steep slopes: and no rolling!) I think there are signs at the Belford Road Jencks saying not to climb up the mounds but here the work was being visited by people round the base and over the top and no security getting shirty. The whole place was fairly relaxed about rules and behaviour which was refreshing. We never saw any uniformed attendants or vigilant staff around the place. Treat people as adults and (mostly) they will behave as adults. There were a couple of exceptions but generally the place and works were in excellent shape maintenance-wise and people respectful of it. (The missing bronze Ju88 being about the only bit of bad news I noticed apart from a small bit of graffiti later on.)

sun comes out and it changes again

dead elephants to the left

Quarry by Phyllida Barlow. Interesting to note the ages of artists, many of whom are around my own age. Quite a few a lot younger, but Phyllida Barlow is a bit older and died aged 78 in 2023. I have a great respect for her process and work although I am not always drawn to it, nor understand it or her choice of materials and colours. I don't think she is wrong or misguided, she is just interested and excited by stuff I am not. She is concerned with industry and materials and construction rather than beauty. I saw a video of her recently carelessly joining lots of thin cardboard cylinders wrapped loosely in random pastel fabrics with expanding foam filler (the devil's work if ever a material was) and doubted we could be friends.

But like Rachel Whiteread I admire her commitment and integrity. (RW is one of the country's leading sculptors missing from this starry line up of contributers.) Quarry is three elements. Two enormous towering things built out of panels joined with some nasty cement and scruffily painted with those hovering rusting hoops, looking like industrial leftovers. Very impressive but I'd never have a large enough garden (or country) I'd want them for. The third element; a ruined flight of rock-like stairs was so ugly - like a pile of dead elephants - I couldn't take a photo of it. Although it looked like an indoor climbing wall and I'd like to try ascending it in climbing shoes after being reassured it wouldn't fall over and kill someone.

7+ out of 10 for integrity and orginality. Definitely her own person and getting stuff done. The photos of this work on the Jupiter Artland website are really good and show off the piece very well.

I had heard about this next piece beforehand and I think the way it is presented is very successful. A long flight of narrow downward pointing steps leads you single file down to a roofless basement, a dugout lined with encrusted walls of amethyst crystals. The Light Pours Out Of Me is by Anya Gallaccio and the visual drum roll of the entranceway descent is so inviting and compelling that the payoff struggles to match it. 

I think part of the problem is the light in this subterranean dungeon. It is kinda murky. I saw a youTuber saying they felt it was dark on account of being Winter and they thought it would be great to return in strong sunshine imagining it (the crystal walls) would sparkle. We were there on a sunny day and it did not. The purple crystals were just not as spectacular as the artist probably imagined when planning the piece. They were okay but not captivating visually. 

Also, at ground level were a few wheelbarrow-loads of unpolished obsidian. Again you had to look really carefully to get much return out of this naturally occurring (and fascinating) volcanic glass. I like the idea of employing potentially spectacular elements but feel both the amethyst and obsidian were punching below their weight and never quite realised their potential. I'm not sure how the artist could have resolved this. However the narrow descending stairway to the dungeon was I suspect why it was a memorable installation.

wall of amethyst crystal - needs better lighting

this should be more impressive but was more like meh
(I hate that word and the bored-teenager-shrug it engenders, but there we are)

sloping steps, like a descent into a pyramid

or similar Lara Croft experience

I want to give this project an 8 out of 10 as it has an original and dramatic entrance way and admirable ambition but sadly feel the crystal dungeon didn't match the anticipation. The reveal, the crystal walls and ignored obsidian garden above, featuring golden barbed wire and hedge; if I'm honest it only kept my attention for a moment and was disappointing. Maybe a roof and some interior lights to turn this into a dark crystal mine with sparkling walls would liven the whole piece up. The current reality is nearer 6 out of 10.

clearly people have been helping themselves
and chiselling off the crystals

Tracey Emin's I Lay Here For You

Nick shown for scale - it is twice (or more) lifesize
(although only half lifelike at best)

In its favour I thought this large bronze by enfant-terrible-turned-national-treasure Tracey Emin would be worse. It has all the trade marks of an Emin piece: no talent or skill employed at any point and I could spend a while pointing out the obvious: that it looks like a half-chewed toffee spat out and then made giant by people in a foundry, who were far more skillful than the artist, producing this bronze which any one of them could have done better. 

Just what is that raised lump around the kidneys? A massive goiter? A mistake she was too lazy to notice? When I first saw this piece I thought it might have been made face up of (using a tired Emin motif) a woman (the artist) masturbating, hand between legs. And then (because she lacks any critical or intellectual rigour) when she put it the other way up she thought it worked well. Despite the result being face down in the dirt the way nobody ever lies.

Either way up, it is what you'd expect from Emin. The emphasis on feelings, self pity and fumbling smut rather than any expertise in her scattergun choice of genres: from sewing, through drawing, from printing to sculpture, she displays a uniformly cack-handed lack of ability in every medium. If you like her stuff you'll probably like this. I imagine she made it desk top size and had cleverer people turn it into this massive bronze and deliver it here. 

Regulars will know I am not a fan. 3 or 4 out of 10 because the people at the foundry worked hard and did a good job and because there are dimples deep enough to form puddles and collect rain for the birds. The most expensive chewed-toffee bird bath in the woods.

One of the enjoyable things here is seeing works through the trees as you travel round the grounds. In the Summer there is far more foliage to disguise the works and occasionally they'll peep out unepectedly from behind vegetation giving you an sneak preview of upcoming art, or a different perspective on the one you visited already.

The paths are easy to explore, even without being signposted much, so there is more than an element of this being a treasure hunt in very pleasant surroundings. There is a respectable distance between most works, a palette cleanser on the dirt trails through the trees before the next one appears. A wrong turn adds to the experience and a view across a neighbouring field. Retrace your steps and continue to hunt for the next surprise. While many of the exhibits might not have produced gushing admiration (from me) the general enjoyment factor was consistently high and we were both relishing the surroundings a lot.

I liked this more. I have no idea what the artist was aiming for or why but it works well as an architectural folly. It is by Pablo Bronstein and called The Rose Walk. To quote the info on the map guide:

Wooden Gothic and Chinese porticos facing each other alongside a courtyard, lined by beds of roses.
Irony and pleasure co-exist in an emblem of 18th century tastes.

I thought the white paint finish showed the immaculate woodwork detailing very well against the chaos of the surrounding trees and shrubs. Not sure I saw irony other than a 21st century artist mimicking 18th century stylings. Is that ironic? And it was all so convincing, so well made, you forgot to comprehend the man-hours invested here.

Someone had to prepare and level the ground then build this complex and detailed design elsewhere then take it apart and transport it here and then paint and finish it after it was reconstructed and make sure it was weatherproof much in the same way you would with a real building. Did a team of employees do this? More questions than answers. How much would this cost to have as a decorative add-on to your house? (More than your house?) Certainly more than a very elaborate conservatory. And finished not to film set standards where you don't really have to weatherproof, but the full monty. Sat outdoors all year round. And why? Didn't we get this sort of thing out our systems a couple hundred years ago? Although attractive enough to revisit it perhaps.

Clearly I'm going to have to google him. Okay he is an Argentinia artist working in London. Architecture obsessed though dabbles in choreography too! Yeah me too! Usually does sketches of 18th century French architecture. So I'm guessing he gave the sketches to a team of woodworking geniuses who built this. This has to impress anyone who has ever used a coping saw in anger. Or panelled a withdrawing room. If you are big on feelings, crystals and sobbing, other works are available. At the risk of opening the gender can of worms this is a masculine piece that hides its emotional or sub-conscious intent unless the sole intent is to say those C18th Frenchies loved their decorative woodwork.

I'll dock 1.5 points for seeming a bit niche and having little to no human resonance or emotional depth other than really involved carving and brilliant construction skills. 8.5 out of 10. (Also I find roses much overrated and prefer any number of pretty shrubs that could have been used, but that is purely personal and roses are possibly more suitable for the structure.)

this was a happy coincidence

oh look, there's Jencks' crazy golf course again!

this wasn't a huge loss as it was bordeline dreamcatcher

In Memory by Nathan Coley

This was perhaps my favourite work today. I thought it very apt to use a simple poured concrete wall to isolate the work within an almost claustrophobic boundary. And have just a single thin entrance gap to squeeze through to what is a very familiar and yet uncanny exhibit. It is a cemetery facsimile about the size of a room.

I am VERY familiar with Scottish cemeteries and this is an absolutely accurate reproduction of one; from the modest path, to the plants and flowers growing. And, of course, the gravestones. They are the actual things, genuine articles, bought secondhand from a stonemason in central Scotland apparently, (I have been googling again.) They were either replaced or discarded for reasons unknown and I bet the stonemason was astonished and delighted when faced with the prospect of a resale. A once in a lifetime deal.

Partly to anonymise the deceased, the names of the dead have been sandblasted off. It looks a bit like they were chiselled off but the softer, smooth channels suggest sandblasting rather than the aggressive bite of a chisel. It also adds entirely to the unsettling nature of the piece. It is the only part of the artwork that would differ from a complete transplant of a cemetery corner and your eye is drawn to those ghosted lines. 

I have a profound fondness for graveyards and cemeteries. I grew up a fence away from Comely Bank cemetery and visit Warriston weekly. I long stopped reading the stones, instead searching for wildlife among the memorials. But I am well aware of the outpouring of grief expressed in solemn and heartbreaking sentiments you find on gravestones. And here they are just that, (Good Night Mummy) but with the names of the dead forcibly removed. Like Coley was explaining to aliens just what humans do when their loved ones die. Plus those missing names add the art and emotional depth to an already uncanny replica. Without those ghost-white channels this would just be found object art, a real thing displaced to a gallery setting, in order to pinder it and reflect.

Maybe using second-hand gravestones is cheating. That it is somehow stealing grief-steeped weather worn artifacts for the purposes of entertainment? And yet it is also solemn and respectful. And the cut through of artwork to real life and back again is what brings resonance to the work. It is not sensational or scaled up to impress, or painted in bright colours or with cheap fanfare. By contrast to some of the pieces around here that are trying too hard, this modest corner is quietly one of the most memorable things on Jupiter. 10 out of 10.

haunting

Japanese anemones are exactly right:
I regularly photograph them in Warriston

jap. an.

thank you to our model Nick for posing next to the gun

Several of the items absolutely needed a human in the photo for the purposes of scale and I regularly ordered Nick to stand over there, and he agreed without complaint! I probably didn't say thanks adequately. Here he is standing beside Cornelia Parker's Landscape with Gun and Tree.

I have a lot of time for this artist who has done some interesting things and often comes at art from an original angle. Running over pieces of silverware and brass band instruments with a steam roller before presenting the flattened results amusingly in galleries. Here is a brief bit from her wikipedia...

Parker is best known for large-scale installations such as Cold Dark Matter: An Exploded View (1991) – first shown at the Chisenhale Gallery, East London, and later shown at the Tate Gallery. For this, she had a garden shed blown up by the British Army at the Army School of Ammunition at Banbury.^[4] She then suspended the fragments on wires as if suspending the explosion process in time. In the centre was a light which cast the shadows of the wood on the walls of the room.^[31] The work inspired an orchestral composition of the same name by Joo Yeon Sir.

In 1997, Parker's Turner Prize exhibition showed Mass (Colder Darker Matter) (1997), consisting of suspended charred remains of a church that had been struck by lightening in Texas.^[32] Eight years later, Parker made a companion piece "Anti-Mass" (2005), using charcoal from a black congregation church in Kentucky, which had been destroyed by arson. Hanging Fire (Suspected Arson) (1999) is another example of Parker's suspended sculptures, featuring charred remains of an actual case of suspected arson.^[10]

Subconscious of a Monument (2005) is composed of fragments of dry soil suspended on wires from the gallery ceiling.^[3] These lumps are the now-desiccated clay which was removed from beneath the Leaning Tower of Pisa in order to prevent its collapse.

Sadly the two works she has at Jupiter are not her finest moments. (Again only my opinion not strictly fact.) This one is very workmanlike and fulfills the remit but is a one-trick pony. A giant version of a household object. Well it's a household object if you live in Bonnington House as it is a massive replica of the shotgun owned by Robert Wilson. Amusing use of scale but no resonance or conversation started. 7 out of 10.

Cornelia Parker's other work was a fleeting moment during the opening in 2009 where she sent some fragments of moon rock into the sky via fireworks which then scattered said fragments randomly over the estate. Now alluded to with a 'subverted National Trust sign'. Not really my bag. I prefer some of her other more earthbound efforts. And her fringe is great. Could teach Claudia a thing or two about haircuts.

Since Ian Hamilton Finlay's Little Sparta garden lies just 12.49miles South South West of here it is not surprising he has made his presence tangible. This Temple of Apollo was a cast off from Little Sparta and was crowned with a dome once it arrived. I thought it looked like it would be 20 feet tall but is maybe half that so I got Nick to dutifully stand beside. I also went to trouble of lying on my back underneath the blowhole for the following photo, although the reward did not merit the effort. 

blowhole

inscription round the interior

I went down an internet rabbithole chasing the meaning of the inscription which seemed to be some guff written by Louis Antoine Leon de Saint-Just. Nicknamed the Archangel of Terror he kept himself busy during the French Revolution before having an interview with a guillotine himself (the same day as his good mate Robespierre,) at the ripe old age of 26. I never really got any further with the inscription, of what or why, but I did find out the gaps in my historical knowledge are truly comprehensive.

I had Ian Hamilton Finlay down as an artist most likely to do his own work. He seemed kinda old school; Latin inscriptions and calling his home/garden Little Sparta. After Sparta where men were men and miltary discipline was more important than the foppish democracy and liberal arts of nearby Athens, (read Edinburgh, the Athens of the North.)

So it was something of a surprise to have A.I. disclose that Ian Hamilton Finlay pretty much did zero of the stonework that bears his name. Wow! Shocked! You mean he just paid someone more talented than himself to work the stone that bears only his name? AI reply...

In Finlay's philosophy, omitting the craftsman's name from the front of the artwork wasn't meant to devalue their work. Rather, he viewed his collaborators like musicians in an orchestra—he was the composer who wrote the music, and they were the masters who played the instruments.

I am really quite shocked. I have heard Damien Hirst argue the case for employing a workforce, suggesting an architect isn't expected to build the building he has designed. (That humpwork is for lesser mortals, or indeed more talented ones depending on who you ask.) However IHFs entire oeuvre* is carved latin letters and attractively hewn stone. And all he did was write the words on paper (and the cheques, which isn't nothing, although it clearly contradicts calling your gaff Little Sparta.)

Not only pimping out stone carvings but the idea he made them when really all he did was watch people working the stone. Did he not think to learn stonemasonry and dabble himself? Discuss. (I realise it is up for debate but I think the manual workers who produce the work should at least be given a name check and some credit for doing the majority of the important/difficult part.)

*erm not entire, he was also a concrete poet.
(Oh the irony.)

Here for the record (and because I think they are worth a mention as the musicians - without them there is no music) are those who likely do work that languishes under the name Ian Hamilton Finlay. More of a franchise than a single person.

Alexander Stoddart: A famous Scottish sculptor and the Sculptor in Ordinary to the King in Scotland. Stoddart collaborated extensively with Finlay on classical, neo-platonic, and figurative portrait busts during this exact era (such as Finlay's 1996 head of Gwyn Headley).

Nicholas Sloan: A master stone carver who worked with Finlay on complex classical monuments right up until the artist’s death. Sloan specifically carved the monumental Gods of the Earth/Gods of the Sea in 2005, the exact same year Xth Muse was conceived. 

Andrew Whittle: An expert letter-cutter and mason who executed much of the precise, high-contrast serif and sans-serif typography found on Finlay's stone plinths and columns throughout the late 1990s and 2000s. 

Annet Stirling was born in the Netherlands and studied graphic design at AKI Enschede, before moving to London to study and teach lettering at City and Guilds of London Art School.

  

Nick again, being used to show scale
not as tall as you'd think - the temple (not Nick)

words he never wrote nor carved
by a guillotined 26 year old

Okay so that temple is a little bit short and stout and pretentious for a garden folly but I really liked the tenth muse, written (horribly) as Xth Muse. It features the head of Sappho, the tenth muse (although Nick updated me that there were only 9 classical muses, hence the conceit) "who is the poetess of erotic lyricism" (ooh matron) "and the symbol of love and beauty". On a plinth of Portland stone.

Carved expertly by likely one of the above, NOT Ian Hamilton Finlay. Can you tell I'm still reeling a bit having found out he was an agoraphobic who hired stonemasons to produce the work that carries his name. And yet called his garden Little Sparta because he admired military fortitude. It makes me glad I pull his (albeit dead) leg each time I report how innaccurate his sundial is at the Botanic's Cafe. Which is quite handsome (as much of his work is) but it is never accurate.

I wonder how the person who carved this feels about it.
Do they refer to it as Ian Hamilton Finlay's work?

Okay, the scores on the doors! I'd have given the temple a 6 or 7 but that has fallen to 5 or 6 since authorship was rumbled. That bust of the tenth muse is great work, I think an 8 if we attribute it to IHF but I'd award 9 to the far more talented (and uncredited) sculptor who carved it. 

pleasant to view through the trees

This next work featuring about 4 or 5 "Weeping Girls" by Laura Ford is one I'd seen online and seems very popular with the public. Slightly better in real life although it is difficult to justify that comment. I had assumed the roughly worked figures were going to be plaster constructions. However they are cast bronze and painted white which gives them quite a bit more weight and substance (and cost!) and makes them less susceptible to the elements. They are weathering nicely and where rain has splashed earth and leaf dust up their legs it gives the impression of dirt-spattered children playing in the woods.

I found them to be quite cheery and playful but the title and the faceless-ness plus the poses suggest a melancholy that may be more evident on a drizzly day or in sepulchral evening gloom. I can imagine a Dr Who episode featuring ghost-like weeping girls. Easy to see why they are popular. 

(I did wonder if they were faceless because faces are harder to do than shapeless dresses, but given the skill involved in the hands and legs I feel Laura Ford would have been up to the task.)

I took several photos as I often do just in case one is less focussed. I noticed when I flipped from one (above) to the other (below) it gave a faintly 3D feel. This is how 3D cameras work. However if you flip between the two you get a slight feeling of 3D-ness. I made a quick video of about 15 seconds of flipping back and forth and when put on a facebook reel it endlessly flips. I thought it was a complimentary way to show the slightly wistful sculpture. (Haven't asked Laura for a collaborators aknowledgement yet. 😉)

weeping girls fake 3D collab!

4 of the girls (just) visible in this one photo
these are pretty good if a little artless
8.5 out of 10

opening where face would be

Stone House by Andy Goldsworthy. Made from locally quarried stone. This is an amazing building and the payoff, as it were, is the interior, which is paradoxically not a shelter, so much as exposed nature. I had a walk about in this. It was disconcerting to be clambering over very uneven bedrock, trying not to drop my camera or fall and bash my face on the unforgiving rock.

Once I was back out I had a closer look at the structure of the building which is immaculately laid morter-less stonework. Huge thick walls maybe 16 or 20 inches thick and each stone perfectly shaped to jigsaw into perfection between 5 or 6 others and all of it making walls so smooth you could almost wallpaper them without a problem. An astonishingly masterful construction that I imagine most will walk past without noticing, except for remarking on the discomforting floor. The roof timbers on the inside are also perfectly laid out and slated on the outside. It has been done so skillfully it looks easy. 

In fact it was so impressive I shuddered about asking AI if Goldsworthy made it with his own hands or had help, which has been known to happen. The handsome (if vacant) clay wall in his retrospective was a group effort. AI acknowledges while he has used assistants in the past, this was all his own work. Amazing skills when this appears to be just a pile of local rocks (no morter holding them tight) with some timber and slates stacked (supremely neatly) on top. 9.5 out of 10. It just drops half a point because I don't like it that much. I greatly admire the skill, but for what? A discomforting shelter. You think you are home and then the rug is whisked out from under you to reveal an unpleasant bed (rock). Not your best joke Andy.

interior, careful now!

Nick stands in the doorway

Only Connect by Ian Hamilton Finlay

The lack of water underneath, devalues this bridge. As does calling it Only Connect. Once someone has claimed a quote (or in this case the epigraph from Howard's End)(and not the closing words as reported in the map guidance notes) it suggests a cultural blindness to further put that phrase to work a second time.

Last time I saw this happen was John Gray call his book of philosophical enquiry Straw Dogs apparently unaware of the gristly 1971 (Dustin Hoffman/Sam Peckinpah) movie of the same name. He might well have disregarded such a violent flick as insignificant, but he might note it still comes up well ahead of his lofty book when you google Straw Dogs.

Similarly I suspect IHF was either unaware of Victoria Coren Mitchell's telly quiz or chose to ignore it. Mind you he couldn't fall much lower in my estimation. I'm not even going to score this bridge although there's nothing wrong with it. Other than the lack of water and the name which features on a milestone-like lump of lettered rock (not that sort of lettered rock) either side. Not his best work in the park.

pretty patterns against the sky

Talking of not his best work! This is Firmament by Antony Gormley. I wondered if JA approached him and he said he was busy but they could have this old piece from 2008 which first appeared in the White Cube Gallery. Inside!!! It's flippin HUGE. I can only imagine it arrived in bits and was crammed downstairs then built. Then part demolished to get back out then shipped here. Lifetime free storage and in the public view; a pretty good deal.

I like some Gormleys and others are okay. The Angel of the North is top dollar fantastic and I've never heard anyone express disapproval, which is amazing for such a public sculpture. His famous stuff using architypal bronze casts of himself, on beaches, in urban landscapes and in the Water of Leith is pleasantly inoffensive and after a while almost comforting. He works hard and his ratio of hits to misses is admirable. This is one of his misses, (in my humble opinion!) although there were aspects of it I liked.

What I did not like was it is almost a human form. But just as you see a foot and think oh I see, he's face down in the ground, there is a feeling someone joined a bit wrongly and the thing is a bit wonky? Best to regard the whole thing as random climbing-frame-shapes abstract and look at the pretty patterns against the sky. It is well made but not really dynamic enough. But not awful either. 5.5 or 6 out ot 10.

And another in the same canon of not his best work. This time Anish Kapoor's "Suck". Terrible title too. He did the amazing looking silvered bean in Chicago called Cloud Gate that everyone calls The Bean. In the time I have known his name he went from powdered paint covered simple shapes the size of a large shoe box to world famous installations. He notoriously uses the world's blackest black which nobody else uses and he is almost a household name. This 17 foot high cage certainly sucks. Looks like the bird enclosure at Edinburgh zoo and seems overkill to keep people away from this hole which resembles a bottleneck dungeon. Cage is ugly and clunky, hole is difficult to appreciate. 3 out of 10.

Jim Lambie, "A Forest." Chrome panels and ugly colours. Not my cup of tea. 3/10

Helen Chadwick's "Piss Flowers". Eye catching title, these are the results when you and your boyfriend cheekily pee in the snow and then cast the resultant holes. The map info says repulsive and beautiful. Which is at least half right. 3/10

back end of the cafe

taking a photo of Nick as he emerges from the cafe

Cafe Party by Nicolas Party

Colourful murals and paintings adorn the interior of the Jupiter Cafe. Not quite to my own tastes though it all hangs together well and makes for a cheerful environment. I like the colour of the walls and it hangs in with the colour of the main house which is also in a vivid peachy orange shade. 7 out of 10 because the theme is uniformly attractive in a mad hatters tea party flavour.

We were running out of time to get round the last few exhibits before chucking out time so just had a carry out cuppa and bakery, though I was then greatly distracted by the resident peahen and lured it over with bird snacks so I could get a photo. 

we never made it into the shop and other outhouses 
Goldsworthy has another gloomy interior crammed with lopped tree limbs.
which we missed, oh dear, never mind

but just had time for a quick nosy round the other nearby bits
including the swimming pool which is also very lively but not very big,
defo not made for swimming lengths, but cheerful and bold 

The pool is integrated into an art work by Joana Vasconcelos called Gateway
made of handpainted Portuguese tiles 8/10

I think this was closed, but having seen the interior online (Rachel MaClean's Upside Down Mimi) which is trying way too hard to be slightly sinister children's storybook dark Barbie, I wasn't that interested. I won't rate it because we didn't get the full experience but I doubt it would have made 5 out of 10. Only piece of graffiti vandalism (on door) I saw on any of the sculptures.

There was something about the multi coloured snails that worked well, or better than they should have done, in this snail fountain, A Cosmic Reset by Laura Aldridge. It incorporated a fountain that spilled water down itself in an undramatic yet attractive sounding way. I was mystified by the gold wedges which looked like they might help support the round shells but actually did nothing; and one was hanging loose, so they were presumably decorative rather than structural. Not sure what they added other than confusion. It is a recent addition and not yet on the map info, but is described on the website. 6 out of 10.

Nathan Coley again. You'll recognise his written text lightbulb scaffoldings (I wonder if he has a more succinct phrase for this format) from the one in Belford Rd which declares "There Will Be No Miracles Here". I think I already critiqued that one saying I really liked the gift shop postcard of the piece but the real life actual work left me a bit cold.

I know that sounds like I was being facetious, but oddly it's true. I liked it contained within a postcard form, but when I see the actual work I consider the men who had to build this and then connect a battery or worse, run a cable from a supply and then change bulbs when they blow and all for just one sentence. Seems like a lot of work for very little return. Just take a photo and look at that. Then change the sentence every week like those roadside churches which post weekly notices and nobody gets hurt.

Once you've got used to the magnificence of the format (open sarcasm here in case you wondered) it leaves just the choice of short sentence to mull over. This one is quite good quality and flips between one and a half meanings, and gets you thinking. Don't you think? Whether it was worth the effort of having some gents build a scaffolding and fit the bulbs...? 5 out of 10 or 6 if he built it himself.

I find it hard to reconcile Nathan Coley making these rather insipid lightbulb sentences and his other work here, the mini cemetery, In Memory as described above. He also made The Lamp of Sacrifice which I loved because it was 286 places of worship taken from the Edinburgh Yellow Pages which he made; each one a perfect scale model in brown cardboard. Crafting skills through the roof! 286 carefully made scale models of every church and place of worship in the Edinburgh area. 286!

How can the same artist then do a ten minute think piece in lightbulb text? And ten minutes is about 7 minutes longer than I spent thinking about the sentence here, even though it's better than the other two I've seen of his. More pithy. I wonder if he charges more for pith? Or maybe there's a flat rate. Or, like a signwriter he charges by the letter rather than the quality of the dissertation. Is it a discussion? Can a client choose a sentence and does it then become a collaboration? Could you build one yourself and would it be a forgery? Even if you used your own pithy phrase? Can you copyright or patent a scaffolding lightbulb text?

I hope he returns to crafting or chewing over spiritual places.

Nick for scale

A Variety of Cultures by Alec Finlay

I suddenly had the awful thought is this Alec the son of Ian Hamilton Finlay? It is. Oh dear. Not that nepotism is always a bad idea, I mean we've all enjoyed the wonderful projects the Beckham children have produced.

I saw website photos of the new ladders standing beside the small fruit trees and thought it awful. However as the ladders age and weather like the trunks of the trees and the trees gain height and substance, the work is improving. I later wondered about how firmly the ladders were planted and assumed they must be bedded into concrete. But that was the most I thought about this otherwise un-compelling work. 5.5 out of 10

Another mention of Alec Finlay on the JA website describes a case of Bach Remedy bottles with acrostic poems on the labels. More product placement (and sychophancy) than high-brow art when you remember who owns the company that produces these rescue remedies.

Before I visited Jupiter Artland I enquired of AI how Robert Wilson made his fortune and apparently the wee bottles of 27% alcohol and the other flower based homeopathic remedies have a turnover of something North of £30 million and the company is valued at £327 million, although lots of different figures turn up from AI and some of them, they say, might be in error. Not bad for a product that does no harm and is maybe as efficacious as a placebo according to AI.

In fact I had assumed that RW must be an arms manufacturer, hedge fund manager or something equally evil to have racked up such a fortune, so it is to his credit that he has made astonishing mountains of cash selling these popular little bottles of make-believe. I have never bought one nor have any notion to start doing so, although hats off for putting his profits into supporting artists and turning the grounds of his palace into a public gallery.

Another odd thing was this perspex sarcophagus with giant sleeping beauty inside. The Spell Or The Dream by Tai Shani, a Turner Prize winner I'd never heard of. Again thanks Nick for standing next to it for scale. It is huge. It is not placed that well in what felt like an auxiliary car park. I was very surprised to find I quite liked aspects of this recent addition. I think because it was playing ambient music and I'd only heard the sound of my own voice for 2hrs, so it was a nice break from that! I thought the glass coffin was skillfully built but badly designed and got in the way visually of the blue body inside. A cuboid would have worked better but maybe looked less sci-fi or fairytale. If I'd looked more closely I'd have seen the chest slowly rising and falling. 7 out of 10

tiny Nick, or giant coffin?

So I did a shallow dive into Tai Shani. I found this talking head of her (link here) explaining her enthusiasms which she does with great confidence and little clarity. I think having many artistic types in her family has encouraged this, although watching another video on youTube about dreams and dreaming is just remarkably amateurish (for a tutor at the RCA) and offers little insight. It would be very easy to make fun of her work (the massive suspended turd in her floor piece in the RCA link) which seems thoroughly self-indulgent and po-faced naivety writ large, but I don't need to because she does a splendid job of that herself.

I see she has done a collab with another of the Jupiter artists Florence Peake. Nick and I went past the greenhouse that seemed to be a work in progress although there was little to appreciate other than an empty space and the remains of some scuffed paint on the floor which may or may not have been art. I suspect Ms. Peake is another I'd find it hard to take seriously. This photo (below) is from the Jupiter Artland website and lets me know the artist maybe doesn't have that much to offer.

Florence Peake, To Love and To Cherish
that photo says all you need to know; neither original nor finely crafted or thoughtful

We didn't really have time to appreciate the 5 wooden WBC bee hives Finlay senior has installed near the car park. WBC stands for William Broughton Carr who invented the double walled beehive in 1890. The additional extra, added to raise them to works of art are the words carved handsomely (by an anonymous hand) into the top front of the five hives. They read as follows:

BEES         they lightly skim           and gently sip          the dimply rivers brim        BOATS

Make of that what you will. More concrete poetry? Maybe I was just getting tired but I knew what the beehives said and told Nick it wasn't worth the walk over to see it. We had both really enjoyed the day out and I was sorry to end it on a lower note of a few less-than-brilliant pieces.
Although there were plenty better works in this place, it is the place itself that is the star of the show.

I really enjoyed going round this outside gallery, which was a surprise. I fully anticipated it would be the disappointment that most contemporary galleries exude: indulgent claptrap dressed up as something noble and wonderful, when really the majority of contemporary art strikes me as self indulgent, unforthcoming and trite.

However the process of walking round a large wooded estate, trying to find the pieces like a giant treasure hunt, and then taking photos of them (and, to an extent, reviewing them later) was a real joy. In my art school days I was taken to the Yorkshire Sculpture park. Maybe it was the long transit van drive from Aberdeen Art School and back that coloured the expedition, but I don't remember enjoying it that much. Certainly not as much as today's trip to Jupiter Artland.

Regulars will know I generally follow a trip to an exhibition with a list of complaints. I think the man-in-the-street feels reluctant to complain about contemporary art because of the way it is displayed in rarified spaces and talked about in hushed voices, selling for unrealistic sums. (Banana / gaffer tape.)(Money / laundering.)  He feels that that world is beyond his comprehension and that he doesn't have the language or tools to interpret the subject in a meaningful way.

Having been through an art institution (4 years not hard labour) I feel less restrained by my ignorance and am happy to wade into an argument or express an opinion. I would also admit my opinion is not the defining critique on the subject and it is possible to present several entirely different opinions and that all of them are just as valid, if heartfelt. So if you feel I've got it all wrong, do go ahead and write your own review.

So while the man-in-the-street is puzzled by contemporary art he has no such problem with contemporary music. He likely has a music collection or at the very minimum a few playlists on streaming services and regularly chooses his favourite sounds to listen to. Why is it that he could name twenty or fifty living musicians he likes and listens to, and yet he'd struggle to name more than five contemporary artists and would probably stall after saying Banksy, the shark tank guy and her who pissed in the bed.

My feeling is the lack of communication in contemporary art leaves the man-in-the-street disengaged. The work looks like shit their kid could do and the only time they see any on the telly is when the Turner Prize is announced and their ideas are confirmed by yet more indifferent installation art that is desperately trying to be controversial. I reckon art is going through a rather unfortunate era (spawned by allowing art students to avoid traditional disciplines and just do what pleases them) and the majority from this generation will be swept under the carpet, forgotten, when a new era is realised. I wonder if I will live long enough to see it emerge? I would guess it will emerge from the disciplines of computer based work, motion graphics and digital manipulation as those seem to be the last bastion of intelligent art incorporating traditional values such as colour harmony, composition, drawing skills and visual dynamics.

However as I said, I really enjoyed this outdoor gallery experience. It did help that the walk round the estate would have been enjoyable before any art was installed, but the art did (to my surprise) increase the pleasure rather than just make me wonder why anyone would ruin a lovely countryside walk with all that metal, plastic and concrete. I'd advise a trip there but make sure it is on a bright day (wrap up well) and allow 3 hours or more. I can't believe I'm actually saying this about a contemporary art-space but I really recommend it, and say a big thank you to the Wilsons for turning their place into a memorable and fun day out.