“A lot of my work is like picking potatoes; you have to get into the rhythm of it.”

-Andy Goldsworthy

Thomas Riedelsheimer’s criminally unheard of documentary on British artist Andy Goldsworthy could be, for most people, just as much a test in patience as the process of making the works of art is for the artist. The pace of any film is dictated by character and if your only character is a methodical, patient and philosophical man who has taken, in essence, the simple act of making art in, and with, nature to a profound and inspiring level you can imagine the above quote being more than accurate. If you can get into the rhythm (more of an ebb and flow really) of Rivers and Tides you will however, find a simple and touching portrait of an artist and, along with Lars Von Trier’s The Five Obstructions, a masterpiece of wondering what art is and over coming it’s beady eye.

Shot over a year of extremely different seasons we follow the part wild man part science teacher Goldsworthy to Canada, France, the USA and to his much loved home in Scotland and observe the method behind his mad love for mother earth. Be it biting icicles and freezing them together into twisted shapes or building one of his iconic stone seeds on some faraway beach, his frustration and then acceptance at the point of his intricate and delicate work’s collapse are some of the films most humbling moments. It’s like watching someone build a giant house of cards again and again without so much a cursed word.

Using both obvious and bizarre materials such as leaves, rocks, clay, ice and snow and water taken purely from areas he intendeds to work, Goldsworthy’s ethos is that of using the place itself  to make something alien to it but that can live with in it and force a change in the way the view looks at the environment from that point on…

…which in turn forces you to look deeper at the beauty of nature. At least thats’ my art theory 101 punch line version of it.

I never said I was an art critic.

What Riedelsheimer’s film does so well is stand up on its own a piece of art. The images are often breathtaking, sometimes candid and always carry with them a purpose which not only enhance the themes of Goldsworthy’s works but help to set out a unique style in documentary making. The fluid soundtrack by guitar virtuoso turned composer Fred Firth is also a standout even in a film packed to the brim with sparkling beauty.

As big as the inspiring blow which the film delivers is, not much can really be written about it. I suppose because like most great art it’s all about the feeling.

Essential.