The huge sculpture on Parliament Hill called The Writer is the work of artist Giancarlo Neri. He tells Dan Carrier of his regular struggles with bureaucracy when he plans his giant works of art

THE nuts and bolts have been screwed into place. Like a giant piece of flat pack furniture, a table and chair has been assembled on the rolling slopes of Parliament Hill by a team of engineers directed by Italian artist Giancarlo Neri.
It towers skywards and makes dog walkers look Lilliputian in size.
Neri, 50, has planned this moment for four years.
And as soon as the Neopolitan walked to the top of Parliament Hill and gazed down across to the Highgate wildfowl pond, he knew he had found the perfect spot for The Writer.
Installed last week and staying on its spot – a meadow that was once a rugby pitch at the bottom of the hill – until October, this giant piece of public art has instantly become a new landmark.
But it nearly didn’t happen. As with all of Neri’s art – he has been doing similar pieces for 24 years – he has had to overcome a tangle of bureaucracy to make his vision become reality. Previously he fought authority when installing hundreds of chairs winding down a road on the island of Capri in the Bay of Naples; port authorities when placing a Trojan Horse in Naples harbour; and plans to suspend two giant footballs under New York bridges to celebrate the 1994 World Cup – a feat that was scuppered, not because of the planning department, but by Coca Cola’s insistence that they would only provide funding if he slapped their logo on it.
It is such a constant problem he dedicated a piece in Washington to the process of gaining permission to install art.
He says: “The enemy of my work is bureaucracy. Obtaining permits takes more time and trouble than anything else.”
The Heath was no different, although he found both Camden Council and the Corporation of London alive to the idea.
He said: “I talked to the Heath consultative committee so they could see what I was about.
“Jeremy Wright of the Heath and Hampstead Society objected at first – but he has come to see me now and told me how impressive he finds it.”
But others refused to even talk to him.
He said: “One member refused to listen.”
But he believes the complaints were from a small minority.
He said: “I’m not hurt by negative reactions. Should people who do not want to see it here have the final say over whether it will go up? I don’t know.
“I went through the proper avenues – I haven’t put it up in the middle of the night.”
Neri was born in Naples in 1955, a stone’s throw from the Sao Paolo football stadium, home of Napoli FC. And football was one of his first loves: he played professionally with the New York Apollo team in the 1970s. But he turned his back on football to go to art school and his first installation came about because of the garret he was living in.
He had a small studio in Manhattan, by Union Square – “it was the size of a prison cell” – to paint in. It had a great view, but it was too small to hang work.
So he had an idea. He explains: “I was looking out of the window, and saw these marvellous rooftops. I thought: I should hang my art there – that way, my window can become a work of art.”
He got his neighbours’ permission and created canvases on the facades facing his studio. It was the start of a career that has seen him take his work to outdoor spaces across the world.
He adds: “Because they are temporary, it means I can get away with doing things I otherwise would not be able to. Sometimes you wonder if it is worth the effort. But that is part of it – it’s a snap shot. Hopefully it will stay in the memories of people who have seen it.”
One of the points of his philosophy is that art is all around us and is rarely noticed. Standing at the foot of Parliament Hill and looking at the willow trees that dot the banks of the wildfowl pond, he says it would make a great painting – but the true beauty of the scene could never really be captured by the human eye and hand.
He explains: “It’s as beautiful as it can be – no reproduction can do a view like that justice. It’s like the sea and the moon – they are amazing, natural art.”
The site was chosen when Giancarlo spoke to a friend who lives near the Heath. He described the project he was working on and she said three places would suit – Primrose Hill, Richmond and the Heath. As soon as he saw Parliament Hill, his mind was made up.
“I sat on a bench and looked across the fields. I just knew it was the right place,” he says.But he doesn’t suggest viewers should find the bench that told him he had found the right place.
He says: “Stand back and admire it – find your own spot.”
The theme of the sculpture fitted in with the area.
“It is a statement on the loneliness of art,” he says. “When you read a book, you rarely think of the person behind it, sitting alone at their table for years, creating a world out of their imagination for you to enjoy.
“This place has a close relationship with the written word and hs inspired 100s of writers. I think that is why it was accepted – the Heath has a heritage intertwined with literature.”
The sculpture has been on display in a central Roman park, the Villa Ada, and after its summer spell at the heath will head back to Italy, to the northern Italian town of Monza.
It was built in Italy – after coming up with the concept he had to find an ironmonger able to put the plans into action. Giancarlo searched for the right foundry, and found it in an unusual place. Just outside Rome are fields of hazelnut trees and driving through them he came across Augusto Nunzi’s workshop, which normally makes parts for hazelnut harvesting equipment. He built the chair and table following Ginacarlo’s designs in his yard and the artist remembers driving back weeks after the designs had been handed over.
He says: “It had a wow factor. Even though I knew how big it was going to be, I didn’t know how impressive it would look. I was taken aback, and I hope people walking here will feel the same.”