Last week turned out to be quite different from the one I’d planned. The focal point was looking forward to some time away. As a matter of fact, as I type, I should have been in Wales. With business consuming the first part of my week, I decided the drive really would be too much for me with such a busy weekend ahead. I have two events I’m playing at and a four hour shift on Saturday night too. Try as I might, it’s never a good idea to burn the candle all ends.

Early on this bright brisk frosty morning I whisked myself off to the Hepworth in Wakefield for my much craved hit of culture. I love it there – have you been? It’s a third of the Yorkshire Triangle which has a totally different vibe from its partners, the YSP and the Henry Moore in Leeds. Its cool grey exterior holds a covetable and invitingly quirky collection of creative gems. Crossing the footbridge feels ceremonious and it’s hard to miss the weeping willows whispering their woes to the three Barbara Hepworth sculptures placed beside the main entrance. Walking in through the sliding doors, the lobby is an open welcoming space with its soothing angular grey and white decor. It has a tranquil meditative feel, as do the gallery spaces within the building. Walking through each separate area is an artistic pilgrimage in itself. It’s a place that’s conducive to quiet contemplation.

I headed straight for the café for my special breakfast treat on my day off. I emitted quietly appreciative noises in the corner overlooking the Calder rapids, which were plenty full and gushed noisily through the glazing. A carefully selected wedge of date and walnut cake was accompanied by vanilla ice cream, all washed down with their best flat white.

The main reason for my visit was a work by fellow Welshman, Cerith Wyn Evans. I’d been trying to find time to see and hear it since November. It was a collection of crystal flutes transfused to 2 air conditioning units, pumping noiselessly with barely detectable motion. It was silent until, from nowhere, a wave of sound surged up, crescendoing to a quietly jarring and slightly disturbing mismatched fusion of eerily clashing notes.

I asked the gallery attendant if I could walk around the installation. Yes, so long as I kept outside the marked boundaries. I was also at liberty to take photos.

Discreet yet generous in sharing his knowledge, the attendant knew when to leave me in peace with any thoughts the work evoked. Inquisitive about the elusive artist, I asked if he made an appearance at the opening event. Yes he did and, much as I anticipated, he was Bohemian to say the least. Apparently he wore some sort of black gown. It makes him sound like a druid. How appropriate! Type his name into your search engine of choice and check him out. There are some interesting images.

It was a fascinating work well worth the visit. The subtle play of light with the crystal tubes and the idea that the sound emanating from them was generated by the river beneath us was intriguing.

With so much cultural emphasis placed on London, I’m fortunate that the city of Wakefield is closer and more pleasantly accessible than Manchester and Leeds. I don’t need much of an excuse to visit. Who’s coming with me next time?