02P-4

Further Pursuit of Simplicity

This is rather nice, walking to the beach. Let the angry drivers have the streets; I'll put them behind as soon as I set foot on the dry sand by the bike path. Buckets, sprayer, tools and other essentials bounce along behind me in the orange-wheeled cart.

The tide is going down, leaving firm damp sand for joggers, frisbee-chasers, burrowers and builders. Sunlight pours down. Work is far away. I park the cart and wade into the turbulent water to catch a few waves. A few minutes later, farther south, I do it again.

As I walk into the high sun plans for the sculpture come and go, two related sculptures with a smaller "hinge" piece between them. I have no idea how it will work.

Build number: 02P-4
Title: none
Date: September 7
Location: Venice Breakwater, south side littoral
Start: 1330; construction time approx 5 hours
Height: 3 feet, western section; 1.5 feet eastern section (intended multiple)
Base: 8 X 3 feet
Photo, 35mm: 1 roll Delta 3200 (EI 800), LX w/28-135 zoom
Photo, 6X7: none
Photo, volunteer: Rich
Videography: none
Video, volunteer: Larry
New Equipment: none

1. Notes to Mirjam

Something like 0730. I just got up and had breakfast. I could barely get out of bed; yesterday's sculpture pretty well knocked the stuffing out of me. Is this still Sunday?

The intent was to make another multiple free-pile, in keeping with the Boelaars Multiple Paradigm. The sand was good and my timing a little early. Rich got there shortly after I did and started priming me with cookies.

At about 1330 the tide had gone down enough to expose the good sand, with some assurance that the site wouldn't get washed out. I built two large piles, one of them taller, the other low with two stubby towers on it. The intent was to dig a low area between them, and then put a centerpiece in there as a hinge, as I mentioned in an earlier message.

After the piles were built, I roughed in the swale between them. To get this to look right it had to be fairly deep, eight inches or so, and its concave curve continued into the piles on both sides.

The western pile, which was the taller one, got rounded and hollowed out, and then I carved windows into it. The windows are an ongoing problem: what shape should they be? I didn't do any better job on that with this one than I've done in the past; so far "Sandragon's Egg" has shown the most graceful solution to this problem.

At the base of the tall sculpture I cut a large opening. Then I worked on the shorter pile with its two knobs. I hollowed this whole piece out, with a large opening into the swale between the sculptures, and smaller slits on the other sides of the knobs. This was pretty neat.

By this time the tide had turned and was getting closer. Larry's sculpture, a tall slender monolith, was already being hit. I cleaned mine up and started photographing. It lit up nicely, and light ran its whole length: through the legs of the tall tower, into the swale and all the way through the shorter piece to impinge on the sand outside its base. Neat.

Soon water was in the borrow pit. The next wave filled the swale: imagine, water inside a sand sculpture! I hadn't imagined this when I designed it, but the center was lower than anything else. A few more waves and the lower structure slowly collapsed as its supports got too wet to hold everything up. A few minutes after the sun set the tall tower fell over.

I felt some disappointment because I wanted it to be two separate sculptures. This one was so strongly connected by that swale that it looked like a big single sculpture. As the evening progressed I liked it better, until it washed away.

I walked home with the cart bobbing along behind me, beside the sea reflecting the darkening sky.

2. Details

I dig up some samples. I'm in luck! The sand, even with the very high tides, is no worse than yesterday. All I have to do is wait a few minutes for the tide to drop. I park myself on a manhole cover on the storm drain, and Rich walks up almost immediately.

"Pull up a wheel, Rich."
"Thank you. I'm glad you brought the couch today." I lay my towel over the cart's wheel and he sits down. "Here are photos from Wednesday."
We sit and talk for a time and suddenly I realize how unusual this is. Most of the time I'm busy. Now we can talk of books and whatever else comes to mind while the ocean recedes from my sand.

When the beach is this wet a free-pile sculpture can be started with a shovel. Make a pile of sand and then stomp on it until the water starts coming out. More water can be poured on if needed. This saves a lot of time on the lower levels.

By the time I have the two main piles built Larry has finished his lunch.
"I can't decide what to do. Sculpt or watch."
"That's easy." I hand him the shovel. "Stop thinking about it and start digging."

Free-pile sculpture was born under a severe time limitation. The impulse for speed still rules even on this day when I have more time. I scant several design aspects that will come back to haunt me, but I want to develop the hollow structure ideas further. The overall shape is less successful than others, and the ventilation doesn't help very much. At least it stays together.

"Larry, can you come over here and give me some pointers?"
His pile is about half-finished. The top is all lumpy, with hamburger-sized pats of sand.
"Do you think these are stuck well enough?"
I push on one. It slides away; nothing needs to be said. i remove the top few inches and then add some very wet sand. Then I put on a layer or two of slurry. "You have to be quick. Get it up there before the water has a chance to come out."
Larry does that, but the additions are small. "How do you get so much sand in your hands?"
"I move quickly." Beyond that I haven't thought about it much. Doesn't everyone know how to dig?
"Do you keep your fingers right together?"
I take another handful. "No. The slurry doesn't have time to run out."
Larry's next load is done with spread fingers and he gets about twice as much to the top of the pile. The best way to learn is to teach; I had no idea what a difference that made. I leave him to it and return to my own project.

Carving the lower pile turns into fun. I just keep burrowing, providing ways for light to get in and then out. At the end of the process, with the sun low, it looks like something from Utah, with windows. The taller western tower casts its shadow on the lower towers but spots of light shine through the row of round holes.

Larry points to the small offset spatula. "Are you using that?"
"I will be soon." He walks away, disappointed. I pick up the tool and continue fine carving. Then I put it down and do something else. When I reach for the small tool again, it's gone. Hmmm. If you don't get what you ask for, the next time don't ask. Tools are no longer a crutch, or just something nice to have. They are essential for getting a big sculpture like this finished within the time limit. But I hate argument so I tell myself "I can do a better sculpture with mussel shells than he can do with the whole tool kit," and settle for the second best tool for trimming.

I start to make the central sculpture, which was supposed to be a big ball. Preliminary grading of its site goes well, but there's no place to put the sculpture. It would just get in the way; the two existing pieces are tightly connected and anything else would be a distraction.
"I'm going to bag the third piece, Rich."
"I knew that as soon as I saw that big valley between the two."
"I thought it might still work, but there's just no place for it." I finish the grading and leave it at that. I load the waste sand into the cart.
"You're going to truck it away?"
"Just to the borrow pit. My arms are tired from flinging." His remark is prophetic, however, because the borrow pit fills up and I end up hauling a few cartloads down the beach for the waves to disperse.

Cleaning it up takes forever, or could if I were allowed. There's a lot of sculpture here, and Larry still has the little spatula I normally use for clean-up carving. I have to concentrate on the rough spots, using fingers and the larger spatula, and leave things that are good enough, and it all has to be done quickly.

"Are you still using the brush?"
"Yes." I can tell he's upset, and with some logic. His sculpture is closer to the reaching waves. The brush is, however, mine and I have a lot of sculpture to finish. I'm getting a little tired of being treated as if I'm just here to provide tools and teaching. When the last of the loose sand is removed I hand him the brush and prepare for photography.

The final step is to scatter loose sand around for background control. Then I sign it. By the time I come back from washing camera-wrecking sand from my hands, kids have already stepped on the signature so I redo that and then wait for them to leave before washing my hands again.

The tide is reaching. One dribbles into my borrow pit. Another wraps around Larry's tall tapering tower, and it falls into the sea with one resounding splash. The same wave fills the borrow pit in front of mine, slopping into the sculpture's central space. It isn't long before my piece comes apart, starting with a graceful slow collapse of the hollowed out lower piece.

We stand around, watching. The taller tower holds on for a few more minutes, but the water that bonds also dissolves.

"Good night, all."
"Good night."
I walk north with my load strapped to the cart. It seems very heavy. I'm tired.

The lifeguard truck passes but it's too dark to see who's driving. At the Navy tower, he stops to pick up the guard.
"Good night, Larry."
"Good night, Dave."

The sea glows under the darkening sky. Fall into one or the other. The walk home seems long.

Written 2002 September 8