Is it obligatory to revere the work of Richard Long? To read what is written about him you might well believe it. For almost 40 years Long has been walking the world in the interests of art, leaving occasional traces in the landscape, bringing fragments back, evoking the experience in photographs and texts. In these he is as prone to bathos as any other rambler, noting what he ate, how far he traipsed, descending from stupendous nature to the dampness of his socks. Yet everything he makes seems to bring on a swoon: it is sublime, shamanistic, transcendent.
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