I knew someone, now sadly dead, who spent a whole summer travelling by train through the English countryside for the sole purpose of having his picture taken outside of every football league ground. This combined the two loves of his life in train spotting and footie, and started his addiction on real ale and unhealthy steak pies which may have contributed to his demise- although it was a car crash that did it.
This, if you knew his character, was certainly an impulsive and downright reckless endeavour. He usually made John Major look exciting. It took him from the farthest north in Newcastle, although he did go to Berwick Rangers which is on the English side of the border but who play in the Scottish League, to the most eastern in Norwich,and the dual westernmost and southern ground in Plymouth and many points in between.
Of course the whole trip was out of season so he did not get to see a single game, not even an impromptu kick about in the players car park if his photographic session happened to coincide with the team's reluctant return for pre-season training.
He dined out on the experience for many years after although we often had to stifle a yawn or rapidly claim a poorly tummy and vacate the room. The Eulogy at his very well attended funeral was from his best friend who had accompanied him and actually revealed more about the trip than we had known about. It was very touching and we were sad to bade him farewell. It had been quite an endeavour in logistical and financial terms and one that may not ever be attempted subsequently for just such reasons.
Knowing the man, the meticulous planning of a methodical mind will have ensured that no stretch of railway line was travelled more than once and no railway station platform, apart from the main transport hubs , alighted on more than could be avoided.
As a family the nearest we have got to a collective obsession has been the ticking off, in our self made and frankly imagined Anthony Gormley spotters book, places in the UK where we have seen some of his sculptures and installations.
Of course The Angel of the North needs no introduction. If travelling with Durham behind you on the A1 this spectacular red oxide tarnished structure comes majestically into view just above and to the right of a few blocks of flats in the Gateshead suburb of Low Fell itself on the southern edge of the large Newcastle sprawl.
Travelling south by car , however the opportunity to view the Angel seems a lot shorter and my wife has never really forgiven me for not having enough time to wake her from a car nap before it disappeared out of view as we returned from a holiday in Scotland a couple of years ago. When the children were younger we found our way off the motorway to a lay-by at the feet of the aircraft wing span and climbed the short, steep incline to get a proper sense of scale in that very open and rolling landscape.
I had not personally heard of Anthony Gormley before the publicity for the AOTN which was erected in 1998. The interest only really began with a clearance sale at our local Sainsbury Homebase. Amongst the power drills, torches and shop soiled goods was a small pyramid of unmarked cardboard tubes an after rooting about amongst them I was pleasantly surprised to find each contained a satin brushed finished stainless steel coat peg and a pre-drilled hole for a bolt mount (missing from all the packaging) . I liked the simple and functional look of the pegs and at only £4 each ( reduced from well into double figures ) two of the bargains soon found their way into my basket to the detriment of what I had actually come in to buy which I quickly pushed to the back of the nearest display shelf. The flush mechanism on the bathroom toilet would have to drip leak for a few more days. No big shakes.
It was only upon showing the purchases to my wife that she pointed out the etched signature of Anthony Gormley. It was apparently part of a celebratory and limited edition release of the designed and endorsed work commissioned by the DIY store. I later returned to the shop but all of the stacked stock of pegs had been sold. I have not to this day seen or heard of their existence even with the world market place that is E-Bay.
Our very own Gormleys, a bit more manageable than the Angel of the North ,tied in nicely with my wife's artist friend Cynthia's tiny terracotta figure which had been presented and held pride of place on the mantelpiece in our back sitting room. Cynthia had based her figure on a large outdoor and later gallery installation of 35,000 little figures by the same man. I never got to weave my hamfisted DIY skills on the coat pegs as they were sent to Cynthia as a much appreciated gift.
After that we kept an eye out for any Gormley stuff and over the subsequent years any trips away on holiday attempted to take in at least one of his pieces of work.
In the Millenium year we got to see Quantum Cloud just offshore in the Thames at the Dome. It you stood on one leg and squinted and given the right light it was possible to make out a humanoid shape amongst the geometric framework of tightly grouped welded metal rods.
The Sound II is a solitary standing metal figure in the crypt at Winchester Cathedral and on the fairly regular flooding of the chamber the image assumes an actual reflective state. This was a brief visit on our way to a beach holiday in Cornwall. The undercroft of the Cathedral was bone dry at the time which boded well for our week at the seaside.
Next on the wish list, and still to be seen is the Crosby Beach permanent installation of Another Place although the striking and erect bronze cast figures have caused much controversy being seen, for example, as a threat to sailing boats and the public at large. As for the simplified penises there have been calls for modesty and less pornographic detail but you do get people like that opposed to any revolutionary and poignant attempts at art and culture.
Well, on reflection our I-Spy book of Gormleys remains quite empty but it has been a fun and very stimulating quest so far. We will keep going come rain or shine, such are the vaguaries of the British climate and because, lets face it we have nothing to hang up our cagoules on anyway.
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