Filmmaker Thomas Riedelsheimer follows Scottish artist Andy Goldsworthy. Working in the open air with odds and ends of nature—ice, driftwood, stones, leaves and twigs—Goldsworthy is not exactly a sculptor, not quite a conceptual artist. He himself would defy category, no doubt; he just does what he does, crafting everything from daisy-chains of leaves to stone walls miles long. His commentary on the soundtrack is elusive and tantalizing, as is his work, even to himself. An artist who seems not to know what he’s after until he sees it, he gropes instinctively toward finding the hidden patterns and unities in nature. He doesn’t always succeed, but it seems that, for him, the effort itself is the point. Goldsworthy is mostly fascinating and occasionally exasperating, and so is Riedelsheimer’s film.