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Spiral Jetty
Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty (1970) is a 1,500-foot-long earthwork made from 6,000 tons of basalt rock, winding into the Great Salt Lake. The spiral form reflects salt crystal deposits and explores themes of entropy, transformation, and the passage of time in the landscape.
Walking images into place: WAC encounters and the anima of Prespa
In summer 2025, for one entire week, walking became the defining activity in Prespa, a mountainous transboundary landscape where two ancient freshwater lakes traverse Greece, Albania, and North Macedonia. Through acts of healing, experiencing, resisting and becoming, WAC 25 explored walking as a multifaceted practice as part of the wider, four-year Creative Europe project “Walking
Related
Spiral Jetty
Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty (1970) is a 1,500-foot-long earthwork made from 6,000 tons of basalt rock, winding into the Great Salt Lake. The spiral form reflects salt crystal deposits and explores themes of entropy, transformation, and the passage of time in the landscape.
Walking images into place: WAC encounters and the anima of Prespa
In summer 2025, for one entire week, walking became the defining activity in Prespa, a mountainous transboundary landscape where two ancient freshwater lakes traverse Greece, Albania, and North Macedonia. Through acts of healing, experiencing, resisting and becoming, WAC 25 explored walking as a multifaceted practice as part of the wider, four-year Creative Europe project “Walking
In an essay for 3 Quarks Daily, Liam Heneghan explains that Connemara Sculpture was a site-specific land artwork created by British artist Richard Long during a walking journey through the west of Ireland in 1971. Composed of beach pebbles gathered from the rugged coastal terrain near Roundstone in Connemara, the work took the form of a deliberate, geometric arrangement set directly onto the natural ground. Like many of Long’s early sculptures, it was made from materials found on site and left exposed to the elements, intended to exist within – and ultimately be transformed by – the dynamic forces of the landscape.
The pattern of stones recorded Long’s bodily encounter with place: the physical act of walking, gathering, and placing. Long later noted that the sculpture was an intuitive response to an antique rock carving he had seen in a Dublin museum shortly before his visit, giving the piece an echo of ancient marks inscribed upon the land. A photograph of the completed sculpture, taken by the artist, became the primary surviving trace of the work and has been exhibited in major institutions, including the Tate.
Over the decades, wind, rain, tides, grazing animals, and human visitors gradually dispersed the pebbles. By the time writer and cartographer Tim Robinson sought out the work—having marked its location on his meticulous map of Connemara—the form had largely eroded, though still recognizable enough to enter Robinson’s own artistic and geographic record. When revisited nearly fifty years after its creation, the sculpture had vanished entirely, leaving only an unmarked patch of terrain where Long once worked.
Today, Connemara Sculpture endures not as an intact arrangement of stones but as a story, a memory, and a gesture. Its disappearance forms part of its meaning. Long’s practice embraces ephemerality; his sculptures in remote landscapes are allowed to live, shift, and dissolve. In this way, the absent artwork continues its conversation with the land—its “career,” as Robinson noted, extending into the perceptions, writings, and wanderings of those who seek it.

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