Rural life hits you in the face like the stink of cow dung as soon as you step into the Royal Scottish Academy. Andy Goldsworthy has laid a sheepskin rug up the classical gallery’s grand staircase – very luxurious, except it’s made from the scraps thrown away after shearing, stained blue or red with farmers’ marks, all painstakingly stitched together with thorns.
This is the Clarkson’s Farm of art retrospectives, plunging today’s urbanites into the raw sadness and beauty, the violence and slow natural cycles of the British countryside. Goldsworthy may love nature but he doesn’t sentimentalise it. At the top of the stairs there’s a screen and through its gaps you glimpse the galleries beyond. It feels mystical and calming, until you realise it’s made of rusty barbed wire strung between two of the building’s columns that serve as tightly-wound wire rollers. It made me think of Magnus Mills’ darkly hilarious rural novel about hapless fencers, The Restraint of Beasts.
