Visiting Wakefield's daughter

The Hepworth Art Gallery or, The Hepworth as it likes to be known, is the saving grace of Wakefield – or so the local council hopes. Certainly it has a lot going for it. Built slap bang next to the River Calder, this concentration of grey rectangular blocks contains a fine collection of contemporary art. At its heart is Barbara Hepworth, Wakefield’s favourite daughter, with a display of working models donated by her family, showing how she went about her work.

The galleries are dominated by sculpture including work by another local, Henry Moore, who came from just down the road in Castleford.



There’s also a handful of paintings, and temporary exhibitions although – with our usual sense of timing – we arrived in between exhibitions, so one of the galleries was closed. When you’ve had enough of art, you can gaze past the sculpture to the Calder, or eat well in the cafe.



Altogether, this is a lovely gallery, big enough to hold your attention, but not so large as to bring on culture fatigue.

As to whether it will revive Wakefield’s fortunes is another matter. Its past prosperity is reflected in the town’s classical buildings, now empty or neglected, but biding their time, awaiting renewal. There’s been spasmodic investment, in an effort to get things going, pockets of smartness amidst the pound shops and bookmakers . But the locals are not impressed. ‘Visitors just come to the Hepworth and then leave, without spending money,’ complained a lady in the sandwich shop. ‘The council has spent thousands on a new fountain, but put up the business rates so that no one can afford the rent.’ By the look of the empty shops, she could well be right.

But we did our bit, and it was an experience. We stayed the night, in a cheap hotel near the station and, in the evening, ate in its restaurant. The hotel’s reception area was like an oversize minicab office, and there the Iranian proprietor surveyed his domain. At check out, I mentioned a mix up with our order in the restaurant which, I thought, was due to the waiters’ limited English. ‘Peasants,’ he said dismissively. ‘Four weeks ago, they were in Italy, working in the fields. Now they are working in the restaurant!’ Then he grinned and broke into a laugh, amused at my credulity in believing his explanation.

Wakefield, a city of contrasts; it’s well worth a visit. Barbara Hepworth will lift your spirits and, if the sad surroundings weigh you down, just turn your back on the city and watch the river flow.