As we have said from time to time, one reason we retired and moved to Europe was to be able to take advantage of last minute events and exhibitions.

Back in June a little notice floated across our ‘feed’ and we immediately took notice. Andy Goldsworthy: Fifty Years, July 26 through November 2 at the Royal Scottish Academy in Edinburgh. As a bonus, it coincided with a week when a new friend from the States was going to visit Edinburgh. After 30 seconds of making sure we had time on our calendar, we bought tickets (we didn’t even ask her if she wanted to come, we just got her a ticket). After seeing one of the best exhibits of our lives, we are so glad.

Hailed as a genius, Goldsworthy’s art is ephemeral, site-specific, and transient. He works with leaves, reeds, trees, stones, flowers, and water both flowing and frozen. He is internationally renowned for building, weaving, floating and folding natural materials from leaf to fern, snow to sand and then walking away, letting the installations dissolve back into the land they were built from. He documents his creations in vivid photographs, mapping, inspecting, and recording the everyday wonders of nature.

The Royal Scottish Academy building is an unusual venue for an artist like Goldsworthy. Built in 1826 it has Greek columns and is thoroughly neo-classical in its design. yet, when talking about setting up the exhibition, Goldsworthy simply noted that nature exists everywhere, not just in rural spaces, it doesn’t stop at the city boundary.

For him, the land is raw and he enjoys the hard manual labor of his creations. “The land may look pastoral and picturesque, but it’s a brutal place, the farm a tough place. Sheep make the Scottish landscape.” Thus, the carpet of raw fleece going up the long stairs from the entry and ending at a pair of marble columns wrapped in barbed wire. The fleece is softly inviting, yet closer inspection reveals the dirt and vegetation trapped within the fleece, dotted by the paint used by farmers to note age and final disposition of the sheep. “That wire fence is about the difficulties and obstructions which every artist has to face, especially one that works in the land. But it is also about finding a way through.”

Atop the polished fine oak of the flooring, Goldsworthy piled fallen oak branches, windfall salvaged from Dumfriesshire fields (where he lives), arranged in a dramatic passage you must walk through. “We are bound up in the land. Look at your dining room table. There is a disconnect nowadays between us and the land.”

His most spectacular room installation is of 10,000 reeds or bullrushes suspended from its skylights. Pictures do not convey the sheer grandeur of this installation, provoking a cathedral-like sense of sacred. Using only natural light, reed mace (bullrushes) from Scottish lochs was used to create this curtained chamber that you can step into and feel the light change.

A simple room of stones speaks eloquently of our deepest connection to the earth. The stones are dug out, not under a hedge or around a cow barn, but from grave sites, including that of his wife. “My former wife Judith died in 2008 and when I was visiting her grave, I noticed there was a pile of stones by the cemetery wall. And I discovered they’re found in every cemetery, displaced from digging graves,” he says. “So when a body goes into the earth, there are always some stones left over. There’s an exchange between the body and the land and I thought that was very powerful.” He collected the stones from hundreds of gravesites across the region over nearly three years.

Judith Gregson, a ceramicist from the Potteries, and her father also inspired the wall of cracked red mud in the exhibition, which took 20 people to make and ten days to dry. Like much of his work, it looks effortless, but it is far from it. The catalogues notes that red earth is used by local farmers to mark the sheep and its distinctive color comes from the high iron content of the earth, which we share in our blood. On the wall next to Red Wall are three monitors playing a video of the artist cleaning a rock with the red clay literally bleeding into the stream. A visceral connection of blood, iron, water, and earth. Stunning.

In another room, a video of him “washing” his hands with blackberries links to this imagery.

Nearby, a video of his “Hedge walk” plays. In an interview for The Guardian, he talks about how his performance pieces are uncomfortable because he is not a performer. “They are very personal acts done in an often public place.” Hedge walking is “pretty brutal”, he admits. “I came out of one or two of those feeling pretty beaten up. But what a beautiful thing to do. Swimming through a hedge.” He’s probably retired from hedge walking, however. “You only do them while they are giving you something. The intention of my work has always been to understand my relationship with the land. I don’t go out to improve what is there. But I do feel this need to be a participant, working with it, learning about it. Art has an amazing ability to open your eyes to what’s around you – such as the hedge. Maybe that’s what art is. It just takes you somewhere you’ve never thought of going, whether it’s in the mind or the world.”

I particularly enjoyed the lower gallery area which had many images from his early works, going back to the late 1970s.

All images copyright Lisa McSherry, 2025, except where noted.

A .pdf of the Exhibition Guide is here.

More photos are here, including many taken during the installation, which offer a fascinating glimpse into the process of creation.

A long-awaited and anticipated trip finally came through for us as friends from our old life in the States came visiting for a long week in Northern England and Scotland. As some of you know (and at this point who can remember what has been told to whom?) there has long been a trip on the horizon during which John would walk the width of England following Hadrian’s Wall. Unfortunately, a little while back it unfolded that unforeseen schedule conflicts were going to keep two of the participants from coming. The other two (besides us) were still coming; in fact, they had non-refundable tickets and had arranged child care. They were going to Scotland no matter what! So, we decided pretty quickly to shelve the two-week hiking itinerary and simply have a nice, seven day vacation in the U.K. with a couple of our dearest friends. There are worse ways to spend a week!

Due to the mild vagaries of Ryanair’s flight schedule (not all cities are available every day), we flew into Edinburgh on a midday flight, took a bus to …

… and a hush falls over the room. Yes yes, Ryanair. We have railed against Ryanair, and for what was good reason at the time. Actually, this time everything worked really well! Yes, our flight was delayed a few minutes and there was a super scary 30+ minutes when absolutely no luggage made it off our flight. This was only mildly ameliorated by the fact that no luggage was arriving on any of the three carousels in the international arrivals area. (You may remember that luggage issues at EDI made the news last year when literally thousands of suitcases went missing and were later found in an abandoned warehouse. I certainly thought about it as we waited and waited and . . .) In the end we were united with our bags. A thing you may not know if you haven’t flown much in Europe: the airlines are divorced from the baggage-handling process almost entirely. With isolated exceptions, third-party companies exist here to move bags to and fro in the airports. We can speculate as to why (our personal guess is liability shenanigans) but the truth is we can’t really lay the blame for the luggage issue at the feet of Ryanair, which means… well, things went basically fine with our new best pal Ryan. Thus encumbered with our bags, it was off to the city proper.

Here’s great news: for 8 pounds sterling, you can get a roundtrip bus right into the center of Edinburgh on the Airlink 100. It runs 24/7, every 10 minutes from 04:00 until just after midnight, and then every half hour. Its clean, efficient, and well-signed. Two other routes (200 and 400) take you to the Ocean Terminal and Fort Kinnaird, respectively. Considering that a taxi will cost you 30-40 pounds, and even a rideshare service will easily cost 10 pounds one way, this is a very good deal. The ride is about 30 minutes each way, depending on traffic. Our route went smoothly and we were downtown even faster than expected.

(There is also a tram service that takes about the same amount of time, has a few more stops, and costs about the same.)

We stayed at a great place on George Street, a fantastic area for walking and eating. Eden Locke has fast-fast-fast wifi, a cafe, in-room washer/dryer, fully-kitted-out kitchenettes, underfloor heating, air conditioning, and a 24-hour front desk. Oh, and they are dog friendly! They are a new brand and have a surprising range of locations — Manchester UK? — all over Europe, including London, Dublin, Munich, and Berlin. New locations are coming to Lisbon, Zurich, Copenhagen, and Paris.

Dinner was at a classic steakhouse, Hawksmoor. (Lisa has been craving filet mignon, a cut of meat not properly found in Braga, so that made the choice of where very easy.) It was fun — but a bit of a bracer for “big city” prices. We had the belly ribs, which were rich and tasty, and steaks. Yummy all around.

We had a lovely day in Edinburgh all in all… which just drove home the point that really, someday, we ought to actually visit Edinburgh. The last time we were here was 11-ish years ago to the day; we had truly atrocious weather and mostly stayed in indoors. This time we’re here for one day before collecting friends and heading south. Someday, Edinburgh, someday… This day, however, was over, and we had a big one tomorrow. Company arrives!

First: Most of your luggage will be made up of clothes, so our first strategy is, admittedly, kind of cheating: only pack for a week, and plan to do your laundry once a week. If you are in shared housing (such as airbnb or VRBO), just make sure there is a washer in your unit. If you’re staying in larger accommodations, like hotels, you may need to find a local laundromat and build in time to get it done. We’ve also had some success finding local services to come and get our laundry, returning it later that day. All of these options have different resource requirements — how much is hanging out in a laundromat worth to you in terms of lost travel time, or around your flat waiting for items to dry? We’ve tried both ways, and after hauling big bags through the cobbled streets of Paris one chilly December night years ago we vowed “never again.” Manageable luggage is worth it to us.

Once, we were staying in Edinburgh for a few days, and planned to do laundry there. Our flat had a washer so we thought it’d be no problem to get a couple of loads done our first night. Turns out there was no electric dryer, it was a rack AND it was pouring rain both days we were there. Our clothes took a full two days to dry, even when draped over the heaters the 2nd day. It was a big hassle and we barely left the flat trying to manage it. (Honestly, the rain was a big deterrent, too.) So learn from us: make sure there is a dryer, and be prepared for it to not be electric.

Second: Pack clothes that are versatile, lightweight, and easily layered. Every piece should be able to mix with others to make at least three outfits. You rarely need a new top every day, or different bottoms; to my mind you only need to change your underwear daily. The pictures of John on a trip to Italy are particularly funny since you can track the cycle of his three shirts. Still, nobody in Venice was going to see him 3 days later in Rome, so it was new to them! Even if you are traveling with a group, no one cares whether the same blouse comes out three times in a week. Avoid white clothes, they seem to be dirt magnets; opt instead for patterned or darker clothing.

My packing strategy starts with looking at the itinerary and listing what we’re doing. It’s mostly “go to museum” and “walk to dinner” but it’s the first opportunity for me to look for the unusual events. Like the special meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant, or the tromp through the woods truffle hunting. Then I make a list of different outfits needed. Finally, I lay out all of the clothing I want to take on my bed and build outfits.

Third: Packing cubes are your friend, especially the compression cubes. I prefer the smaller cubes, John likes the larger ones. You can fit about 30% more in your suitcase using cubes. (Hot tip: don’t take that as license to take more, instead think of it as room for souvenirs.)

Fourth: Build your outfits thoughtfully. This the heart and soul of being able to pack for three weeks in a carry-on.

Building outfits is when you need to be ruthless.

Here’s the most common outfit combinations:
Traveling (plane/ train/ car/ waiting areas)
Museums and general touristing
Sacred sites (many places require that shoulders and knees be covered; sometimes heads as well)
Cultural events (concerts, opera, plays, etc.)
“Dress Up” (such as a special occasion dinner, or a visit to Monaco’s casino)
Sleepwear
Beachwear
Winter(outer)wear
Outdoor (hiking, etc.)

I wear a specific kind of outfit on the plane, one based around looking pretty good while being comfortable. I usually try to nap on flights, and need to be prepared for delays; I also adhere to the philosophy that I’ll get better treatment from airport and airline staff if I present as looking like I’ve got my act together. Sometimes any little bit of an edge is crucial!

Travel clothes:
wide leg pants, stretchy leggings, or yoga pants
long-sleeve top (or lightweight sweater)
lightweight blouse, or patterned t-shirt
your heaviest footwear
comfy undies (this is not the time for a thong; and bring a change of undies if you’re flying overnight, you’ll feel so much better when you arrive)
scarf/ shawl
plan for layers in breathable fabrics
I avoid: any clothing that constricts waist, armpits, neckline, joints, or ankles; including skinny or tight jeans. Our bodies swell when we fly, so anything that you wouldn’t wear during a bad bloating incident is a bad idea when traveling. (If you don’t know what I mean by this, well “yahoo!” for your blessed life.)

To pack for a week, your travel clothes will also work for museums, sacred sites, and most cultural events. (Some people worry about being dressed well enough for cultural events. We’ve found that most places, especially during their tourist season, aren’t expecting fancy outfits. Being in a good pair of pants or a skirt with a nicer top is almost always nice enough to not get looked at. I usually bring one “dress up” outfit, which may be an actual dress or a skirt and blouse combo, depending on the place where are going.

Shoes are always a hard choice. What works for me are walking shoes (I’m currently in love with my Hokas), sandals (for warm weather), waterproof shoes (for cold weather), and maybe another pair of walking shoes in leather that can work for dressy occasions. In cold weather travel I just bring two pairs, because my clothes are so much bulkier and space is a premium. In which case my walking shoes will be waterproof and I bring a 2nd pair for dinner and nice occasions. (We take taxis to save my better footwear.) John long ago decided that he’d get used to walking shoes that present more nicely than sneakers; thanks to the prevalence of retail work that shoots for “business casual” employees, these shoes are actually very common. No, they will not be The Most Fancy(tm), but if that matters so much to you then I’ll hazard a guess that you’re not too concerned about minimalist packing.

For a three-week trip we took to Italy in September a few years ago, I packed:
knee-length dress (red, patterned)
2 pr shorts (black, Bermuda style)
2 pr yoga pants (black, wide leg)
4 tops (all different patterns, v-neck, squarish shape)
1 long-sleeved top (black with a subtle pattern on the arms for interest)
1 lightweight cardigan (black)
1 skirt (knee-length, black)
pajamas (shorts and short-sleeve top, made of woven bamboo)
straw hat
wool-silk blend shawl (lightweight)
leather sandals
leather walking shoes
sneakers
swimsuit
undies (7pr)
socks (4 pr — I used Smartwool socks)
cross-body purse
toiletries
tiny umbrella
three-quarter length microfiber coat

(I wore a lot of black back then. There’d be a lot more blue in the list if I were to go now.)

All of my clothes (except where noted) were made of a mix of rayon and either tencel or nylon, from J Jill’s “Wearever” collection. I don’t own “travel clothes” that I don’t wear in everyday life. I bought a pair of flip flops when we got to the ‘beach’ portion of our trip (we had a car, so they lived there when I wasn’t using them). I carried the coat on board the plane.

If I went on that same trip in the height of winter, I’d drop the swimsuit, shorts, and sandals. I’d add a sweater. I’d replace the lightweight cardigan with a heavier version and the skirt with a calf-length version. My coat has a Thinsulate lining, so if I add gloves and a hat I’ll be toasty warm wherever I go. Note that even though European airlines have different requirements, everything on my list will fit in the smaller size most airlines require.