Sweet Caro’s lines: a series of abstract sculptures takes over Yorkshire

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Somewhat hazily now I remember embarking on my art GCSE, first through the bowler hats and apples of Surrealism, via depictions of the Spanish Civil War to the far less familiar territory of abstract sculpture. The latter was brought to us in the form of the work of Anthony Caro, from dog-eared art book pages and monochrome photographs on bad photocopied printouts. We were tasked with sitting down to create our own Caro-esque moquettes from clay. It seemed a terrifying proposition: compared to the ubiquitous Dalis and comparatively straightforward narrative of Guernica, his shapes and lines felt incomprehensible to a 15-year-old brain. What were they for? Why were they there? I found the misty-eyed Caro-adoration of my art teacher Mrs Silk baffling.

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