On a mild October half-term holiday, I drove the children, all three of them, to Somerset, seeking solace in colourful outdoor autumnal surroundings and art. It’s an hour and a half from home, across and through wonderfully expansive views, as we traverse three counties before reaching Hauser and Wirth. It’s been a few years since I last saw any work by Eduardo Chillida, one of my favourite sculptors. It was just after he’d died (2002) and a London gallery was exhibiting a selection of his drawings spanning fifty years. Whilst nothing beats seeing his monumental works in the landscape, in Spain, preferably on the coast, his ability to work in almost every material imaginable and at every scale, sets him apart from most other sculptors of the 20th century.
My kids are hardened to gallery visits, indoors and outside, near and far. They are used to be driven about and dragged around, and
