Marcus Scriven meets Wilfred Cass CBE, the brains behind the unique Cass Sculpture Foundation at Goodwood.

There were no pictures in the house where Wilfred Cass grew up, nor was there an inspirational teacher of art at his boarding school. Yet today he is the orchestrator of one of Britain's most remarkable aesthetic achievements.

To see it, head to Sussex, break free from the racetracks masquerading as country roads and turn off into the Goodwood Estate. A mile in, as the land tilts away on your left, you'll see a striking, modernist, circular gate of aluminium grey, and a wall of flint-faced stone, behind which lie 24 acres of woodland - the setting for Cass's cubist home, and 70 works by living British sculptors.

Even if you do not consider yourself especially susceptible to the nuances of form and texture (mirror-polished or powder- coated steel, reinforced fibreglass or San Andrea granite); even if you are a stranger to names like Abrahams and Coventry, Davies and Hall; or have convinced yourself that contemporary sculpture is elusive or alien or impenetrable, you're likely to be beguiled and intrigued. It helps, perhaps, that Fish On A Bicycle (by Steven Gregory) is first on view, a piece of whimsy unswervingly true to its title. A yard or two later, you spot a barren, leafless tree, its roots clawed around a head and book: nature's supremacy over puny man and civilisation. This is Regardless of History, an epic bronze standing 17ft high, by Bill Woodrow. It may be familiar from its reign on Trafalgar Square's vacant plinth, but here, in proximity to the beeches and birches of Hat Hill Copse, its energy and stature seem massively renewed.

"Each piece should have enough space to be able to establish its own personality," says Jeannette. "We felt that it shouldn't be static: it should be living, constantly changing"

Don't, however, presume that Fish or R.o.H. will remain forever - they won't. Every sculpture is for sale. During the course of the year, a third of them will head elsewhere - to museums or private houses, in Britain or overseas - to be succeeded by new work. "No-one else is commissioning pieces for £30,000 to £50,000," says Wilfred Cass, a diminutive figure with a crown of white curls, inquisitive eyes, pepper-dry humour and a sense of purpose which remains undimmed in his 83rd year. He dispenses patronage on an unprecedented scale, aided every inch of the way by his wife Jeannette, with whom he conceived the idea of the sculpture park, soon after his 'retirement' in 1992. A year-long global odyssey followed, during which they visited 30 museums and galleries, noting splendours and deficiencies - perhaps especially how even the most richly endowed institutions sometimes lacked the stage to do their collections justice. "Each piece should have enough space to be able to establish its own personality," says Jeannette. "We felt that it shouldn't be static: it should be living, constantly changing." Returning home brimming with certainty, they hosted dozens of lunch parties for the panjandrums of the arts world. "They said, 'Fascinating idea. Won't work'," recalls Wilfred.

Within a year, the Cass Sculpture Foundation had been established; the sculpture park opened on 4 September 1994. "I think we've paid out £7 million to artists and put 160 pieces out there in the world since then," Wilfred says. He speaks clearly but softly - one reason, perhaps, for the arts establishment's patronising response, though its poverty of vision was more probably to blame.

Born into the extravagantly talented Cassirer family, Wilfred spent the first nine years of his life in Berlin. His grandfather, Richard, was a celebrated brain surgeon; his great-uncle, Ernst, was professor of philosophy at Hamburg; another great-uncle, Bruno, published art books; and yet another, Paul, was Europe's pre-eminent dealer of Impressionist paintings. Yet his father was steadfastly indifferent to aesthetics; a form of rebellion, Wilfred believes. In any case, by the early '30s, other priorities prevailed. "It was fairly traumatic in Germany," he remembers. "Even at that age, it was a relief to leave."

The family moved to England, trimmed their name to Cass and settled in Notting Hill. Wilfred was sent to Frensham Heights, a new, progressive, co-educational school with 200 pupils. "Until they are 15 or 16," recorded a contemporary newspaper report, "Mr Roberts the headmaster prefers them to be pretty irresponsible." Young Wilfred's latent artistic interests were nudged rather than fully engaged. "I was very interested in pottery. It came in useful later, working with my hands." He was happy, too. "It was very much unstructured. There was no great emphasis on learning facts; the emphasis was on teaching people to think."

During the war, his inventive, dexterous mind - he had learned English in three months - was put to work on electronic gun control. In peacetime, deciding he "wasn't educated enough", he studied communication technology. A "magical first job" followed at Pye, in Cambridge, where he pioneered printed circuits and television receiver design. So began a ceaselessly productive career as a creator, manager, fixer and serial entrepreneur. It led to a brace of Queen's Awards for Industry and a trek across a kaleidoscope of territories - converting car spark plugs into glass diagnostic tools, producing water-based paints, manufacturing machine tools and distributing artists' materials, then becoming chairman and chief executive of Moss Bros, and founder of Image Bank, whose sale to Getty Images in 2001 brought significant financial reward.

To secure its foundation, Wilfred sold the collection of Hockneys that he had started buying in the Fifties

But by then the sculpture park was in its seventh year. To secure its foundation, Wilfred sold the collection of Hockneys that he had started buying in the Fifties, long before they were fashionable. It was in the Fifties, too, that he bought his first maquette - for £20 - from Henry Moore, a man he reveres as a teacher. "I used to go down fairly regularly to see him."

The process of buying and selling holds no more fear for him than did the prospect of establishing the sculpture park in the face of the 'experts' doom-mongering; business experience saw to that. "I certainly never think of failure. Sculpture and art sing - SING - to me. I don't think I'm a true collector. I'm a great seller, in order to improve what we've got."

His advice to prospective buyers is unequivocal. "Buy the very best you can. Never buy what you can afford - borrow - because it will give you more pleasure. And if you want quality, you've got to have room." He concedes, though, that a novice should not rush - "there are a lot of charlatans: unmade beds and so on" - hence a newly-built gallery within the woods, where maquettes and small-scale sculptures are on sale.

Those who do walk away with a full-sized work (a figurative expression, of course: Hugo, a telescopic fork-lift truck, capable of scooping up a six-tonne burden, is on hand to help) have the twin satisfactions of acquisition and patronage by proxy, the proceeds of each sale being split between the sculptor and the Foundation, which uses its slice to commission new work. "In one week, we probably get twenty proposals," says Wilfred. "On a normal day, I'm seeing ten to twelve people, discussing ideas." But only about one per cent of the drawings or maquettes will lead to a commission.

It is, he acknowledges, a demanding calling for those of the 3,000 practising sculptors in Britain dependent on patronage to realise their vision. "It's very hard; that's why we're here," he says, prompting Jeannette to mention a word of thanks from one sculptor's wife. "She said, Without you and Wilfred, I wouldn't have a dishwasher, I wouldn't have a fridge'." "So we're in the dishwasher business," reflects Wilfred, flawlessly deadpan.

It's slightly more than that. A walk through Hat Hill Copse is both humbling and uplifting - a chance to glimpse the realisation of one man's dream.

Article by Marcus Scriven, first published in the April 2007 issue (No. 2) of Country House Magazine.