Mount Victor, South Australia, July-August 1993

The work has travelled down the slope. It made connections to other lines: the pathways that I used to follow down hills, old shepherd tracks in the English Lake District which were sensitive to the line of the mountain and invariably the easiest way down, although not always the most direct. The edge followed the hillside down, catching the early morning light. Dead trees lying on the bank dictated the path of the work. On top of the bank stood a dead tree stretching into the sky — my lines of sand reaching into the earth below. I heard thumpings, like a heartbeat: I had worked on a warren. It must have been the rabbits inside stamping their feet. [diary notes]

from Andy Goldsworthy, Wood
(New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1996), pp. 36-37