Ah! I fondly recall the afternoon in Ashridge woods constructing the Andy Goldsworthy homage from thirty-two twigs and a puddle.
How it rained! IT RAINED. The puddle became a bog and we all stood on the twigs by accident. But we went home happy, for that day we made art.
Review some of the extraordinary output of the real Andy Goldsworthy here.
He has set me on a lifetime of deliberate arrangement.
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