How in the world do you end up with a career like the one Andy Goldsworthy has? Imagine just waking up one day and saying, "You know, I'm going to be an artist who uses nature as a palette. I'm going to travel the world. And I'll be able to earn a living to support a family with three kids." Can someone really just do that? It's incredible. Goldsworthy is either lucky or strongly determined -- probably both. I'm jealous of him.

That said, I find myself grooving on his work. Rivers and Tides is a documentary that follows this Scotsman to several locations and shows him actively creating his art. At each new place -- a beach, a pasture, a forest, etc. -- Goldsworthy explores his surroundings, searching for its inherent flow and energy. He proceeds to use the natural elements available -- such as stones, icicles, leaves, and even shedded wool from sheep -- to create a sculpture. What is fascinating is how his sculptures take into account their transient nature. They are not meant to be permanent -- their eventual deconstruction through time and the elements are an essential part of the work.

This is refreshing. I know within my own life, I have found more peace by continuing to accept the temporary nature of all objects and concepts in this world. Change happens, but most people spend their lives fighting it -- and are miserable as a result. Goldsworthy's approach to his art speaks volumes to me. Each of his pieces are exquisite -- branches arranged on the grass to form patterns, stones piled carefully in the shape of an egg, a daisy chain of lilypads floating in the river. To any average art-lover, all of them are worth saving, but Goldsworthy acknowledges how nature's energy will inevitably change his works -- that there is beauty in artwork not maintained in a singular state. Such a state would be in defiance of life's flow.

Director Thomas Riedelsheimer gives the documentary a casual, laid-back feel. Goldsworthy does all of the talking, ruminating aloud about his concepts of flow, his inspirations, and his philosophies. The camera watches him assemble his sculptures; once they are completed, we are allowed to see not only the finished products, but also what happens to them through the course of time -- some of them stay intact less than a day, others survive the whole year. Meanwhile, Goldsworthy is welcome, easy-going company -- he has a good humor about what he does. We see at least a couple of his works collapse while he is making them, and his reactions reflect a thoughtfulness in his defeats, as well as little evidence of frustration.

Riedelsheimer never gives the impression that his film is meant to record Goldsworthy's works for the sake of posterity -- that would be antithetical to its subject. Rivers and Tides acts more as a spread-the-word vehicle, a way for the art to gain more exposure. It's probably the closest thing to a true exhibit featuring this work. But one gets the feeling the exhibit isn't for the sake of benefitting Goldsworthy; rather, it exists for the benefit of its audiences, enriching their views and knowledge of art. The film attacks the notion that one of art's functions is to stand the test of time. Goldsworthy's works find their value in the changing moments of their existence. Goldsworthy understands, accepts, and can demonstrate this flow -- more reasons why I envy him.

(Released by Roxie Releasing; not rated by MPAA.) 

Review also posted at www.windowtothemovies.com.