August 2005 we met up with my cousin for a day at the park.  We had a picnic lunch and wandered around catching up and enjoying the day and making our way slowly out to the Anthony Gormley exhibition. We finally got there to find we were too late and it had closed!
Mo Wilson

This is a scanned image from a photo.  It was taken whilst the sculptures were being unloaded. October 1989 the Bourdelle exhibition.
My best (but un-photographed) memory is with one grandson in the pushchair and one running with me as we frolicked up and down the area with a beveled walkway.  I shall never forget.
Philomena O'Hare

My lasting memories fond and happy
Come from a place in Yorkshire near a valley
A sculpture park where wonder and awe
Light up my day and fill it full
I visit as and when I can
and am inspired in all I am
Andy Goldsworthy I long to meet
but settle for viewing his work and seeing his feet!
(climbing into a tree stump in some cases!!)
I admire this place, the work the views
It touches my soul, my heart and is my muse
Joanna Espin-Silvester

1986
Andrea Bärtig

How well does memory serve us? With the passing of time, how precise, how intact are those sequences of events that leave a residue on our minds? Here is what I recall - a cloudless, crisp, winter sun day; a steady uphill climb; a sculpture standing atop that hill, white against blue sky, imperious, tragic. A remnant face emerging, then another, stone-bound, wrapped, pierced. Ancient yet modern, deceased yet persisting. 'Heroes of Light' - Igor Mitoraj. Unforgettable.
David Morgan

Conversation.
M. Haynes

My closest friend and soulmate, Mark Booth, brought me to YSP the very first time I visited his family home in Batley during August 1999.  We met at art college in London ten years before and both remained in the capital to work, but in July ‘99 Mark – then aged 28 – learned he had cancer and returned home to Yorkshire.  That first encounter was on a beautiful summer’s afternoon – incongruous with our feelings of deep shock, melancholy and fear of what the future held.  Despite this, the park made a deep impression: the beauty of its landscape enhanced and made magical by the extraordinary forms it contained.
Confounding all expectations my friend survived and thrived. My life took off in a completely different direction: that I am now a stone carver/sculptor myself may owe something to the impression YSP made on me. We revisited in 2001 on another lovely day and had immense fun exploring and photographing the pieces and each other.
Some 18 months ago Mark’s health began to wane again, reaching crisis point in July 2007. Extraordinarily he pulled through and I visited him in August, during which time we once again visited YSP and – though he was very weak – managed to see my favourite Hepworth's and Andy Goldsworthy’s installations in the Underground Gallery. It was an inspiring and poignant experience.
Six weeks later Mark died, on 29 September 2007. I was at his side during the last week of his life: more than once he mentioned his wish to return to YSP to see the remainder of the Goldsworthy exhibition…
YSP has been a thread throughout our story over the last eight years, the latest episode being my most recent visit on 10 October – the day after Mark’s funeral. It was partly a visit of remembrance, but also a vicarious fulfillment of the last wish he voiced. It was the first time I had walked the tree-lined southern boundary of the park and its melancholy beauty on a tranquil, autumn day was fitting. That he was not with me broke my heart. Revisiting in future will invoke mixed feelings; deep sorrow over the loss of my beautiful friend but also joy in remembrance of the times we shared here. This contribution to the Memory Project is my tribute to him.
Zoë Cull