The Year in Sand: 2002

2007-12-31T08:00:00.000-08:00

January 1: 02F-1 "For John Coffey" (offsite link to Human Touch)

January 5: 02F-2 (offsite link to Human Touch)

January 11: 02P-1 (no photography, done after making sand cache)

January 12: 02F-3

January 22: 02F-4

January 24: 02F-5

January 26: 02F-6

February 8: 02P-2 (after cacheing sand)

February 9: 02F-7

March 8: 02F-8 "Simple Truth" (offsite link to Human Touch)

April 6: 02F-9

April 20: 02F-10 "Peaceful and Surreal" (Human Touch link)

May 4: 02F-11 "No Distractions Allowed" (Links offsite to Human Touch)

May 6: 02F-12 "MTV Unfiltered" (offsite link to Human Touch)

May 18: 02F-13 "Friends of the Library" (done for SM library show)

June 3: 02F-14 "Good Enough for Television" (offsite link, Human Touch)

June 29: 02M-1 "Bigger Than It Looks" (contest piece for Bay Days)

July 12: 02F-15 "I Am Not an Ox" (links offsite to Human Touch)

July 19: 02M-2 "Symphony #1 in 3 minor" (links to Human Touch)

July 26: 02F-16 "Bonfire"

August 9: 02F-17 "What Hatches from the Sandragon's Egg?" (offsite link to Human Touch)

September 3: 02P-3 (no photography)

September 4: 02F-18 "High-motility Gamete Insertion Device"

September 6: 02M-3 (experimental 2-unit free piled multiple, first of its kind)

September 7: 02P-4 (multiple? single? take your pick)

September 8: 02P-5 (no photography; arch done while swimming with George)

September 15: 02P-6 (no photography; arch done after a mountain bike ride)

October 11: 02P-7 (no photography; complete construction failure)

October 20: 02M-4, "Three Proximal Sketches" (Cabrillo Marine Aquarium demo)

November 2: 02M-5 (three unit dispersed formed multiple with earthworks)

November 12: 02P-8 (no images, done on bike ride home from Manhattan Beach)

November 13: 02M-6 (three formed units with earthworks)

November 15: 02M-7 (three widely distributed units, minimal earthworks)

November 17: 02F-19

November 19: 02F-20

November 21: 02M-8 "Embrace: for Bob Jeffords" (private memorial)

November 24: 02M-9 "Friends, Fare You Well" (Bob Jeffords public memorial)

November 27: 02M-10 "Cookin' Thai"

November 30: 02M-11 "New Bamboo: Pandemonium"

December 13: 02P-9 (no images, done at Coronado Shores)

December 21: 02M-12 (2 units; rain and cold dictated early termination)

December 22: 02R-1, R-2, R-3 (rare relief sculptures; scroll down the 02M-12 page)

Decmeber 24: 02P-10 (no images)

December 25: 02F-21 (going for height)

December 27: 02F-22 (Includes year-end summary)

Around the Bend: 02F-22

2007-03-30T08:04:00.000-07:00

Cycle Psychology

In 1989 the world looked to be changing. The Soviet Union came apart, the Berlin Wall came down and it seemed as if peace were breaking out all over.

Trust human nature to prevent that horrendous condition. We can't have peace; it's not good for the economy and besides that, our pride will be trampled. So, the old patterns held sway in what really was a remade world. Now, instead of one or two big fights brewing, we have a lot of little ones.

The end of a year. Our planet approaches the point in its orbit that is arbitrarily chosen, by some of the more powerful thought systems, as the beginning of the year. Other cultures have equally valid starting points at equally arbitrary points in our sun-centered track. One more thing to fight over.

"Saturday, September 07, 2002:
'I was discharged Friday afternoon. The first desire was a nice, hot shower. The second desire was a walk on the beach - what a beautiful, perfect autumn-like day. Larry Nelson was doing two sand sculptures near the breakwater. I help him at times. He creates beautiful, sensuous upright sand sculptures. I couldn't stay, but would have loved to see those two completed and their absorption by the sea an hour later when the tide came in.'"

"Sometimes we don't realize how we touch a life. You touched Bob's and I just thought you would like to know."
(Email from Petey, quoting Bob Jeffords, 2002-December-27)

We choose our fights. George creates terrorists behind every Bush and uses that to inflame the populace so they'll forget the economic problems. I, dreamer of very small dreams, choose to struggle on the beach, in full view of everyone. What is beauty? Can I make it? Does it make a difference to anyone else? Don't be quick to judge.

Build number: 02F-22 (lifetime start #261) filtered imported sand, on elongated sloping riser base (stump of 02F-21, reshaped)
Title: none
Date: December 27 (Friday)
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 0730; construction time approx 8 hours
Height: 3.4 feet (Latchform); riser height about 10 inches
Base: 1.75 feet nominal diameter
Assistant: none
Photo digital: 67 images, Canon Powershot G2 (includes those shot by Rich)
Photo 35mm: approx 22 exposures on Fuji Acros 100 (EI80) w/LX and 28-135 zoom
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Construction and complete, Rich w/Canon Z115 and my G2
Video motion: none (camcorder not brought)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: none

1. What Winter?

Well, this is it. One last chance to uncover the perfect sand sculpture hiding within that pile. The year's end may be arbitrary--beyond Earth's orbit, the universe continues its stately procession--but it's still a handy way for human beings to keep track of their affairs. Wind up one year, begin the next.

In other areas winter punctuates the year's span with a natural full stop. Stay indoors and think about the year while snow and cold rule the world. Here the only snow is painted onto store windows and people walk the beach in shorts and worry about sunburn.

The trailer is already loaded. All I have to do is pull it out and attach it to the bike. The pack takes a few minutes to load: water, food, hat, windbreaker, digital camera and a 35mm camera for black-and-white photography. Lock the door, get onto the bike and roll away with the sun barely peeking over the southeastern horizon.

The plan is to make a moated multiple and let the high tide near sunset make a reflecting pool around the sculptures. I arrive at the beach and drag my equipment across the long stretch of dry sand. Scouting the area, I realize the plan will have to be abandoned. There's too much sand here and not enough water due at high tide. The moat would have to be two feet deep and that adds up to far more cubic feet of sand to remove than I even want to think about.

Sunlight warms my back in the chill air. I wore a grey shirt just for this reason. I amble around, looking for a building site. Up on the bluff north of the breakwater would be dramatic but the sand there is terrible. Out on the flat it's not much better. Well, if you aren't permitted to do what you want, do what you're permitted. I level off the stump of the previous sculpture and set the Latchform on top of it. I'll make just one, and make it a good one. Suddenly there's lots of time.

Good sand is available, but it will cost. Very coarse sand has been dragged in from someplace and I have to remove this. Immediately after I clear the overburden from enough good sand to fill four buckets King Neptune sends me his best wishes, filling the borrow pit with water. I have to clear out the coarse sand that washed in.

I steadily filter and pound.
"What are you doing?"
"Sand sculpture."
"My name's Shane." Immediately I see Wyoming and a kid hollering "Shane! Shane!"
"I'm Larry."
"I'm an artist. Want to do some painting. Never tried sculpture."
"Sand is a good medium."
"But you have all this equipment!"
"Yes, but you don't have to have it. This is just for improvement. You can do sand sculpture with just your hands and a mussel shell."
"Really?"
"Yes. Come over here. I'll show you."
We walk down the beach. "Find a place just above the tide, where the waves won't hit. This is better done on a falling tide. Dig a hole, wait for the water to seep in. See that? Then take handfuls and plop them on the beach, like that. Make sure you start at a distance from your borrow pit. Keep building, just like this." I make a pile a few inches tall. "I've built sculptures five feet tall this way."
"Really?"
"Yes. Now, when it's as tall as you want, you start carving. Here's a small clam shell. See how you can use it to cut? It's sharper than your fingers. And here's a mussel shell for reaching farther in." I hand him the shells. "OK, go to it. Have fun!" I walk on down and fetch a load of water.

An hour or so later I'm able to take the first stroke with the Sand Knife. The new plan is for interlaced fingers at the sculpture's top, with a large opening to the west to admit sunset light. I'm immediately glad I used the box filter because there is nothing like carving fine-screened sand. It cuts like silk and retains fine edges. Beautiful. The sun works on my tight shoulder muscles. A pelican flies low overhead, circles just behind the breakwater and then dives. A young surfer catches small waves, practicing standing up.

"What are you doing?"
"Sand sculpture."
"Do you work in other materials?"
"No. Well, a few. And I make my tools, which are a kind of small sculpture. But mainly sand because I like working here. Lots better than being in Kansas."
"Kansas? My brother lives there."
"Where?"
"Salina."
"Are you serious? I was born there."
"Yes. He's the chief financial officer for a company there. I've visited him. Hot!"
"Yah. And humid."
"Right!"
"Actually, Kansas has some beauty. There's one day in the fall and another in the spring when it's a good place to live. But I'd rather be here in December."
"I can see why."

2. One Sculpture, Many Ideas

All right. Interlaced fingers. interesting engineering, but how do I make it graceful? Start with the outside; if you want the overall shape of a sculpture to be good, you have to start from that shape. I didn't always have the patience to do this but the results have been so positive that I've learned to stay that hole-boring hand. At least until Rich gets here.

The north side becomes a slab that widens and gently curves inward from the sculpture's base to the top. Its top part will be cut into the fingers for this side. On the south the top is more curved, and tucks in about halfway down, where it meets another bulge. The fingers on this side will be more arched. Various other parts are defined, including a tightly bent recurve on the west that will frame the sunlight-gathering opening.

"How did you do this?"
"I piled the sand inside a removable form, then started carving."
"Wow. I wish I could try that."
"You can. All you need is hands." I lead him down the beach and build another demonstration pile next to the first. "Use shells and your fingers to carve. I've made sculptures four feet tall this way."
He stays with it no longer than Shane did. I need Bert. My priority, of course, is to finish my sculpture.

Ready for the fingers. Except that they don't work. No matter how I sketch them on the packed sand they just don't look right. I still want to echo the western edge; if not with fingers, how else can I do that? Forget it for now. Work on the inside.

The day begins with much potential and little action. A cylinder of sand. Act and the potential is gradually taken away; the cylinder takes on ever more tightly defined shapes which must be fitted with others. Choice disappears with each stroke, each fallen grain. Choice here dictates somewhere else, and engineering rules all.

Wrapping the lower part all the way around seems too simple. I cut it off under the top bulge and plan a hole there. Where will it come out? That depends on where this part to the right goes. How about making it curve upward into the top cavity? That would be good engineering, and might even look good. I bore upward and hole through into the west part of the cavity.

That pretty well settles the gross aspects of design. The forms are decided and made; now it's a matter of details.

"You're almost finished."
"Not quite. Hi, Rich. There's a lot of detail work left, and I plan some work on the base also.

Sailboats catch the slow wind with shining sails and slowly work northward over the sparkling water. The only clouds are long thin ones made by airplanes. Surfers with longboards are the only ones getting rides on this day of calm surf. Waves lap closer but will not get here until early tomorrow morning. It's too dark then for photography.

That big northern panel looks too plain. Like what it is: a slab. We can't have the fingers, but how about trying the weaving idea anyway? Start with a small hole that would show the edge of the internal arch. I bore this through and it's in the wrong place, about an inch west of where I thought I was putting it. Rats. Well, it'll just have to be bigger, but that messes up the new plan. Bag that plan. Try something else. Make the hole a sort of star shape,and continue its lines in ledges that divide the big slab into subtle subsets. Wonder of wonders, this works, and it becomes a great design element.

The south side gives me an opportunity to try a similar design touch in a different situation, where the curving top panel meets the other pieces. Various ledges lead down and around, and I cut a hole along the edge of one curve. Nice. Mass hiding, or good design? Who cares? It looks good.

3. One Sculpture, Many Principles, One Design

"Yeah, you basically practice like it's a contest. Most folks take it a little bit easier when they are just practicing."
(Bert Adams, Email, 2002-November-2)

It doesn't feel like practice, but that's how it works out. In this sculpture it works out as knowing when to quit taking sand away so that I have enough left to make a design work from another direction. Bore through here, but leave this piece so that it will give the space some definition. I need to see something in there, not just space, and this wonderful smooth filtered sand will hold up to the delicate carving necessary.

Carve no sand before its time. Leave it alone until you absolutely have to remove it, or you're certain you won't need it later.

Details spread outward, merging into larger parts, and those become a sculpture. Some of the curves echo others, while some curves cross or simply stop. Some of this works well. Some of it doesn't; move a few degrees and what was graceful is now rather awkward.

The problem is that this sculpture didn't come from one idea. My head is full of designs and they're all trying to be expressed.

"You're expressing your idea, where everyone can see it."
"Yes. Sand is a delight to work, and I have to go where it is." But no one else has said it just that way, I think as this passerby walks away.

There are lots of people on the beach. Wandering, fishing, digging with their toes, wading in the cold water. It's like a summer day, typical for this interholiday period. Always busy. Just wait until tomorrow. As the tide pinches in around the flat the crowd becomes more dense.

4. The Day Feels Long

"It's 2 o'clock," Rich says.
"Plenty of time, and I'm through with design. Time for clean-up now. And then I have some base work to do.

I retouch edges and holes, then brush the loose sand away. A corner chips off so that has to be polished and made to look good. Other subtle touches suggest themselves: dishing in a panel, undercutting the back edge of an opening so more light will pass through. Some edges are sharpened, others smoothed. All are brushed so the laminae show.

"That's good." The sculpture stands, clean and sparkling. I turn to the base.

It was built upon the remains of 02F-21, which left its own base plus all of its sand here. I just levelled it and made a new pile, with new sand, so the base is nearly a foot tall, dark imported sculpture sand on top of the original native-sand base. I cut it to a sharp edge around two-thirds of this sculpture and smooth the area below the "cliff." The waste sand from this operation gets dumped inland, so the base stretches away to the northeast, descending as it goes. I want the sculpture to occupy a slanting headland above the beach.

I've tried this before. It didn't work very well, and it doesn't really work now. Probably because I'm too tired to figure out how to fix it. Plenty of daylight, as Rich announces three o'clock. No brains left. I brush the base, make a signature pad and curving surround, and sign it.

The base really isn't that bad. It does serve to separate the sculpture from the beach, without being too obvious. I wish for more but don't really know what that might be. Good enough. Take some photos.

5. Sparkling Finale

"It's a good one."
"Thanks, Rich. I like it too." Well, at least parts of it.

Several people have thanked me for making it, for adding beauty to the beach. Now I just wish a few of them would leave so I could get shadow-free photographs. Patience is rewarded. One by one I get the images, then get some more as the light changes. One other photographer also waits, without comment, for people to move.

The sculpture is really made of light. Shadows cast on it make it invisible, and today there are no clouds on the horizon.

"That's a lens with a camera attached."
"Yah, Rich, that's the Sony. Good lens, but not so good dynamic range."
"Sony F707. I like it!" She's enthusiastic, shooting from many angles. The camera has seen a lot of use. "I normally shoot with a D1s."
"Wow." That's the Canon 11-million-pixel single lens reflex.
"You know what? This is a snapshot camera, but its color is right there. Plenty of detail, even in prints!" She has me stand next to the sculpture for a photo. "See?" She shows me the image, which looks good. "Under the right conditions it does a great job." Her children are all around, asking me how to do sand sculpture.
"Will you give me a lesson? I'll pay you."
"Well, you have to remember that the key is water."
He promptly gets up, grabs a handful of sand and runs to the ocean. He comes back with the wet sand. "Like this?"
"Yes. Feel how much better that sticks together now?"
"Yes!" Soon his sisters have joined him in running back and forth from water to building site, my day's work recapitulated in seconds. There are no big jobs, just small tools.
Part of the group leaves.
"OK, let's go!" Two of the children come, but the third is totally engrossed in his sand project.
"That one's born to be a sand sculptor. Don't quit until you run out of daylight."
She flashes me a smile as she tugs on his arm. "Come on. She'll be upset if we don't stay together." Eventually he gets up and they all dash away. This is the beach. Chuck your schedule as soon as you step onto the sand. What's the hurry?

Rich and I stand around as the light turns reddish orange. Lovely. Occasionally people move so I can get an image.

Suddenly I realize the sun is almost gone. I've been packing equipment. Rich is rooting around on the table.
"What are you looking for?"
"The red bag."
"It's right here."
"You moved it."
"No, I rotated. . ."
"The table. Yes. Fooled me."

I look up just as the sun is disappearing. It's clear. Perhaps we'll get Yes! A green flash. Rich looks up and sees the end of the longest period of green I've ever seen, a spark hanging on the horizon for at least a second. Amazing.

I pick up the other camera. Good light for black-and-white, to accompany the sunlit ones I shot earlier.
"A quarter of a second? I don't think so." Slow film, slow lens. I put it away.

Under the glowing sky we traipse eastward. The wash of waves grows quieter and is overwhelmed by the noise of skateboards and portable stereos.
"I'm drafting you!"
I look back to see Rich pushing the sand cart right in the tracks of the trailer I'm pulling. I then start to curve back and forth.
"You really are a stinker." We both laugh.
"It costs me more than it costs you," I pant.

The trailer is attached and the cart strapped down on top.
"Now it's time for my safety equipment."
Rich looks at me with curiosity. I get the little LEDs out of my pocket and put one in each ear. He breaks up laughing. The star on my chest is the final touch.
"Oh, the lights go around. Isn't that cute."
"I want to be safe."
"But no taillight."
"Well, that's a minor problem."

"Good night, Rich. Thanks for your help."
"Fare you well. See you next year."
That's right. Five days hence. One year ends, the next begins. This year has wrought amazing changes in my sand sculpture. I wonder what the next one will bring.

6. 2002: a brief review (34 Days On the Beach)

The year started with lost tools. I replaced those and made some new ones, in particular the sand scorps, which have proven to be very useful in a limited way. When I need them, they're the only tools that work.

It was my most profitable commercial year ever. Three jobs, paying me enough to buy a good digital still camera. These jobs forced me to concentrate on things other than design, such as speed and getting it right the first time, which paid dividends through the rest of the year. Carve quickly and you can carve more. This led to the multiple sculpture.

Speed led to something else: the Quick Filter. I have a lower tolerance for frustration than Larry Dudock and built this to solve his sand-screening problem. It turned out to solve a problem I didn't know I had: slow filtering with my fine box filter. Using the Quick Filter takes about one-tenth as much time, and correspondingly less effort. It still improves packing quality, making the use of coarse sand quite viable for high-quality sand sculpture. This made the multiple sculpture even better.

The sculptures:
22 form-built sculptures, monolithic
12 multiples, one free-pile, the rest form-built
10 free-pile sculptures, ranging from tiny ones carved with a mussel shell to full-scale jobs with tools
3 relief sculptures carved in sand embankments. I can't resist sand that's already packed. These used to be called "bas-relief," but are truly relief sculptures.

Date Build LS Notes
Jan 01: 02F-1 229
Jan 05: O2F-2 230
Jan 11: 02P-1
Jan 12: 02F-3 231
Jan 22: 02F-4 232
Jan 24: 02F-5 233
Jan 26: 02F-6 234

Feb 08: 02P-2
Feb 09: 02F-7 235 (abandoned due to wind)

Mar 08: 02F-8 236 (with Bert Adams)

Apr 06: 02F-9 237
Apr 20: 02F-10 238

May 04: 02F-11 239
May 06: 02F-12 240 (for MTV)
May 18: 02F-13 241 (for SM Library show)

Jun 03: 02F-14 242 (for "Blind Date")
Jun 29: 02M-1 243 two units (for contest, first place)

Jul 12: 02F-15 244
Jul 19: 02M-2 245 three units (first "private" multiple)
Jul 26 02F-16 246

Aug 09: 02F-17 247

Sep 03: 02P-3
Sep 04: 02F-18 248
Sep 06: 02M-3 free-pile, two units
Sep 07: 02P-4 (intended multiple)
Sep 08: 02P-5
Sep 15: 02P-6

Oct 11: 02P-7 (with Lise Nelson)
Oct 20: 02M-4 249 three units (for Cabrillo Marine Aquarium)

Nov 02: 02M-5 250
Nov 12: 02P-8
Nov 13: 02M-6 251
Nov 15: 02M-7 252
Nov 17: 02F-19 253
Nov 19: 02F-20 254
Nov 21: 02M-8 255
Nov 24: 02M-9 256
Nov 27: 02M-10 257
Nov 30: 02M-11 258 (for Bob Jeffords memorial)

Dec 13: 02P-9
Dec 21: 02M-12 259 two units (forced early end by rain)
Dec 22: 02R-1, R-2, R-3 (in Venice Beach protection berm)
Dec 24: 02P-10
Dec 25: 02F-21 260
Dec 27: 02F-22 261

The Tools:
#1/2 Loop Tool (replaces lost tool)
#2C Steel Finger (rebuilt extant tool)
#13/2 Steel Pinky (replaces lost tool)
#19B Shaver Tool (new blade on old handle; still doesn't work)
#21 Bigger Loop
#22 Long Sand Scorp
#23 Medium Sand Scorp
#24 Steel Thumb Prototype (blade needs work, handle shape is wrong for purpose)
#25 Steel Thumb Alternative (the prototype works better)

The Equipment:
Quick Filter, 0.125 hardware cloth over PVC pipe cubic frame
Octascreen, 0.125 hardware cloth over PVC pipe octagonal frame
Cercoscreenus, 0.125 hardware cloth on plywood ring, pool plastic, cherrywood handle
Bigfoot Tamper Mk 2 (replaces worn-out item)

Yes, sand sculpture pretty well consumed the year. No hikes, no motorcycle rides. Several mountain bike rides locally was about it.

Written December 28
Edited and amended December 29

Reach! (02F-21)

2007-03-30T07:56:00.000-07:00

Upward!

The bottom will have to come off first. From where I stand in the borrow pit the form's top is well over my head as I reach for the top latch on the form. Stand back. The whole thing could end up on top of me. Never have I made a column of sand this tall and this thin.

It was an accident. George said he might be able to come down but holiday events could very well intrude. I planned for anything, and assumed I'd be making, if not a standard Latchform monolith, a two-unit multiple.

"Hi, George. I wasn't expecting you this early."
"Things worked out. We're having dinner later so this was the best time. What's the plan?"
"Well, now that you're here, we could extend this with the Short Form."
"That's what you mentioned last night."
Yah, in between dropouts in the cellular link.

At least the sand is good. I rode the skateboard down to the beach near sunset yesterday and found an expanse of fine sand. Given that last Saturday there was no fine sand anywhere this is quite a gift. I make a small free-pile sculpture with help of three kids, one of whom makes the tallest skinniest free-pile tower I've ever seen. Too young to know better, and unfettered from the demands of carving, he simply moves the tower around when it starts to lean. It's an amazing performance. I ride home along the Boardwalk, flashing LEDs in my ears and bright red star on my bright yellow jacket. It's the first time in my life I've ever upstaged anyone in Venice.

Build number: 02F-21 (lifetime start #260) Monolith, two stage, filtered imported sand, on riser base
Title: "Who Let Giacometti Into the Taffy Shop?"
Date: December 25 (Wednesday)
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 0715; construction time approx 8 hours
Height: 5 feet (Latchform with Short Form on top); riser height about 8 inches
Base: 1.75 feet nominal diameter
Assistant: George Ollen
Photo digital: 56 images, Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: A few images by passerby, with G2
Video motion: none (camcorder not brought)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: none
Note: First use of Short Form as extension in several years

1. Design Dilution

One night George and I were sitting on my front porch, watching the stars and drinking beer. Chimay, I believe, or Full Sail amber.
"When are you going to make another single sculpture? You've been concentrating on multiples, and those don't interest me as much."
"I don't know." Truly, I haven't thought about it very much. Something about the multiple appeals to me strongly, and every sculpture I've done since August has been either a multiple or a single that was a test for some aspect of a multiple. The evening passes and the conversation moves on but the idea stays.

One aspect of the multiple sculpture is that it prevents fussiness. Squeezing three sculptures into the time normally given to one means each one must be done quickly. The multiple becomes a group of sketches, more or less related, in some sort of unifying milieu. There's a lot to think about, a lot to do, a lot of pressure to finish.

I keep thinking about what George has said and gradually realize that he has a point. The difference is subtle, but looking at pictures of monoliths and multiples reveals it. Concentration is impossible on a multiple, other than a general frantic intensity. A monolithic sculpture is one composition, single concentration on one project.

It being winter, anything could happen. I pack the trailer accordingly: sand cart, two forms, the box filter and its newer companion, the Quick Filter.
"Don't you know it's cold out here?"
"Hi." It's the man with his two small dogs, on their morning rounds. "Yes. It encourages fast work."
"Here I'm in a jacket and pants. You have nothing on your legs. You'll catch pneumonia."
"It'll have to catch up with me first."
"Well, merry Christmas. Have fun!"
"You too." He's right, however. The concrete burns my bare feet. Until they lose feeling. I need some of Mirjam's wooden shoes.

2. Construction Crew

I still lean toward making a multiple for today's project and choose the sculpture's location with that in mind, on the south edge of the isthmus. The first sculpture's base is a broad dome beside the long slanting borrow pit; if I'm lucky, I'll get some water in there to smooth it out.

Sand is a minor struggle. The tide isn't as low as it was last night and I have to snatch each shovelful from King Neptune's reaching wet fingers. I stockpile enough to fill the form and use the box filter as I fill the form. Coarse sand included in the fine plugs the filter's openings, making the process more work than normal, but it's a short sculpture so there's plenty of time.

George's arrival, chair and tripod and pack in hand, changes everything. We go for height using a sand-filled bucket as a stepstool. The Short Form fits nicely inside the Latchform, but filtering is a problem. I have to reach up and over the top of the form, and don't have enough strength in my arms to fight with its weight as the fine sand slowly makes its way past the coarse. It's time for the new tool.

The Quick Filter has already proven itself. I have George load it up.
"Yeow. Too much!"
"You told me four scoops."
"Use smaller scoops. Or three." I drop the heavy filter into the form and in a few seconds it releases its load of sand. "That's more like it." Whew. I'm glad I brought that little thing.

We make steady progress, although I do have to remind George of his duties. He's thinking about another idea we came up with: go to South Padre Island in the spring and see if we can talk Sandy Feet into working on a multiple together. George is always getting ideas for what I should do, but this idea I like. This came up one night when he suggested that I find someone to join me in making a multiple. His daydreaming has a benefit this morning.
"Dolphins! They're just milling around out there."
"Fishing. Look! There's a pelican diving on the same group." We watch for a time and then go back to work.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"
I'm on the ground, filling the screen. "Well, it is a hint. To keep your mind on what you're doing, but then it is a holiday."

"One more load."
"OK." He hands it up.

"While I'm waiting for the excess water to drain, I'm going on trash patrol. Mainly for photography."
We walk around with the cart and get it pretty well loaded with trash. Then it's time to find out how well we did our work.

3. Getting People's Attention

One after the other the latches pop free. The ends of the form come loose and peel away from the cylinder of sand, and it stands. The Short Form comes off normally and there it is, nearly three times as tall as it is wide. I've made taller sculptures but they've always been nearly half again greater in diameter. This one looks like the start of the totem pole the little girl suggested I make last night.

I trim it to a slight taper to help its stability. After that I'm faced with a problem of tall proportions.

4. It Really, Truly, Isn't a Penis

What do I do with this? Nothing in recent experience has prepared me for this kind of sculpture, and it brings back the Monolithic Imperative: don't mess it up because you get only one chance. If an idea doesn't work with a multiple, well, no problem. There's another pile or two. Today, however, two people have made quite an investment in this block of sand and I'm intimidated.

Ralph is, however, even more imperative: the day is not getting any longer. Start digging.

The original idea for an extended Latchform piece was to use a smaller extension and have that part spread above a domed top of the main part. This extension is too big for that. I want to fill the space. Spreading pieces, however, place greater engineering demands on the lower parts because the top has to be counterpoised, and that makes it heavy. A dome top is lighter. A domed top also becomes very suggestive. Wait a few minutes, folks. It won't stay like this.

I like the dome idea and have used it in several recent sculptures. Make the dome, then cut holes in it. I've left the dome surface smooth, but in the most recent of these I decorated it more and made it look as if it had been woven together around the holes. I cut several entries on the east side of this piece, and then a set of nearly horizontal slots on the south side. The west side will be entirely open so as to gather light at sunset, and to allow access to the inside of the dome.

This all goes pretty well according to normal practice, with some subtle changes that come from learning. The inside of the sculpture develops very nice structure that matches the outer fluid lines. It's good sand and a delight to carve.

I do most of the interior carving with the Steel Finger and the Steel Thumb, Mk 1. These don't remove sand as quickly as the Loop Tool does but they do it with more control and a delicate touch. Delicacy is important when you're carving an unsupported rib over two feet long.

The cold morning has grown into a fairly warm afternoon. This brings out the Christmas crowd, and the rising tide forces them into a shrinking area. At times there's a semicircle of watchers. Tim walks up as I'm explaining something to another bystander, but he's the only regular I see. Polyglot conversation floats on the desultory breeze.

5. The Second Half

It's nice to act as if there's unlimited daylight, but this is late December. Ralph is getting closer to his curtain call, announced by a pronounced drop in temperature and a change in the breeze from dry to damp.

"It's like a football game, George. We've had a good first half, but what happens in the second?" Liking football just about as much as I, he doesn't respond to this.

It's still true. Right now we have a lot of nice carving on top of a solid plug of sand. The task now is to make that solid plug look better without carving away too much.

Take any of my sculptures from about 1998 and stretch it about 30%, as if Giacometti got an idea and raided a taffy shop. I've gotten used to shorter sculptures. Less top means less bottom is required to hold it up there. What's daring with a 40-inch sculpture is impossible with a 60-inch one.

The only answer is to make what's there as graceful as possible. I try to finish off the various upper elements in ways that make the plug less obvious. Everything is long. Give me a few more tries with a pile of this scale and I might come up with better answers. I settle for one reasonably large hole through the middle with various other elements shaped around it, and a third entry from the south that helps accentuate the hard parts around it.

A man asks if he can take a picture. At least that's what it sounds like. I acquiesce and go back to work. He taps me on the shoulder, wanting me to smile for the camera. I return to work. Mister, you get what you get and I have a sculpture to finish. See the sun? He never slows down; that 'ol Ralph has a very stiff contract.

6. Wrapping It Up

That's about it for carving. Now I just have to clean it up without breaking anything. Yes, it's good sand and I've been able to keep it wet, but I still remember the complete failure of one unit of a multiple when I brushed it.

This one needs lots of detail work. I work my way around and down with a very delicate touch. The result is gratifying.

Low-angle light glows inside the sculpture. Through the vertical slots on the north the horizontal ones on the south are visible, bars of sun-warmed sand with the ocean visible beyond.

I smooth out the domed base and then sign it. After pressing my hands into the pad of sand I simply roll over and groan. Scattered applause breaks out, whether for the sculpture or for my performance I don't know.

The crowd has thickened. One of them stumbles across the sculpture's soft base. Can't you at least wait for me to get a few pictures? While keeping an eye out for dangers like that I clean up the area and remove my equipment.

One man has been here for a couple of hours, taking pictures.
"I'm August. I take pictures for my portfolio. Three-way partnership here: your sculpture, my camera, the prints."
"Sounds good."
"Will you take pictures?"
"Yes. As soon as I can get this place cleaned up, but I have to watch for kids." This makes me wish for Rich to be here, but he's at a friend's for Christmas. Finally the crowd thins and I get a chance to take some photos.

Where do ideas come from? I can trace some of what showed up in this sculpture to their sources. The major one is 96F-3, with its thin legs curving around spaces. That was the first time I tried something like that. I tried again later in the year with a bigger sculpture and got it well started when the rain came in. I was kind of glad because finishing it was going to be a lot of work in hollowing the sculpture with not much room for design.

What a difference a few years of experience makes. Now, instead of thinking of the sculpture as a lot of legs, I think of it as a hollow shape with holes cut in the shell. 02F-18 was the apotheosis of this idea. Since then I've wanted to do more than cut holes in a curving surface, so I've subtly curved the various dividers and shaped their ends to make them look woven. 02M-8 was the strongest outworking of this idea, on a smaller scale. Today's effort is at eye level and more spectacular for that.

That the inner structure worked so well this time is due to practice. Keep trying, keep messing it up, keep trying and eventually the fingers learn what they need to know. The main principle is to leave enough sand in there to allow later shaping. Work both sides. I like this, even if no one else sees it and it doesn't show up well in photographs.

I walk around, looking. It's a wonder it's still standing.

7. Light

There's always a shadow when the light comes from one direction. In past years this was a problem but now I use it for contrast. Bring light through the sculpture to define the elements on the shadowed side.

I walk around the sculpture shooting details and the whole piece. It's much easier than shooting a multiple. This is good because I'm not that mindful right now. Automatic cameras were made for this.

The temperature keeps dropping. I hang on for sunset light, but then notice that this won't happen because of a cloud that's reaching up from the horizon. As the sun goes behind its fringes the cold intensifies.

"That's enough for me."
"Thank you for making this."
"You're welcome." I pack up and pull the kit off the beach. This at least warms me. I get even warmer when I realize that most of my bungee cords, casually placed on top of the load, have fallen off. The round trip to the work site seems long, but I finally get the load assembled.

A few streamers of color light up the west over the disappeared sun. It's cold. Keep the pedals going. Dinner awaits.

Written December 26

Weather or Not: 02M-12

2007-03-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

Who Knows?

"Friday: patchy rain showers, windy. Saturday: rain showers, heavy at times, windy."
"Friday: clear and cool, breezy in the canyons. Saturday: heavy rain all day. Sunday: heavy rain."
"Friday: a few light showers. Saturday partly cloudy and windy. Sunday: heavy rain."
Et cetera. Take your pick. I wonder if any of these people actually stick their heads outside their offices. The sole common element seems to be heavy rain on Sunday, so any sculpting must be done Saturday.

In the end I'm left with the usual decision-making technique. I'll get up and see what the weather is doing, and if it isn't raining, I'll head out.

I really need to do a sculpture. The week has been long and devoid of grace. I feel like the marathon runner who can see the finish line.

Build number: 02M-12 (lifetime start #259); 2 units on individual risers.
Title: none
Date: December 21
Location: Venice Breakwater, south side high tide line
Start: 0730, construction time 6.5 hours
Unit A: 29 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, immersion screened native sand (Short Form)
Unit B: 27 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, immersion screened native sand (Short Form)
Plan: Unit A on elongated riser, with borrow pit on west and south. Unit B on small riser, using A's borrow pit and some sand from north and west. Big waves filled the borrow pit with sand. Rain terminated the project before the basal area could be developed fully.
Helpers: none
Digital Images: 28, with Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich, w/Canon Z115
Video motion: none (camcorder left at home deliberately)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: Larry Dudock, w/Elura under John's umbrella
New Equipment: none
Note: includes remarks on 02R-1 (imaged), 02R-2 (no images) and 02R-3 (imaged)

1. Rain

Rain really doesn't hurt sand sculpture. I've been caught in a number of storms and have noticed that the water just drains through the sculpture while leaving interesting texture on the outside.

No, the problem with rain isn't the water. It's the cold. Winter sculpture is a very fine balance of clothing and cold. As long as it's dry, and I'm working steadily, I can stay warm enough with reasonable clothes. Add rain to the mix and I no longer stay warm. Lose delicacy through heavy clothes or shivering. Take your pick. I prefer to pack and leave.

I awaken to rainwater dripping from the eaves onto the leaf-filled back yard. It's illuminated by moonlight, however, so the rain must have ended. A look out the front door shows thin clouds lazily cruising under that bright moon. We have commitment.

Add to the rain the problem of tide. It's very high this morning. It will be aided by what I'm sure will be big storm surf. Normally I'd just wait it out and start the sculpture just after the tide's peak, but today I have a feeling that there's no time to waste. The window is open now but could slam shut at any time. Let's go.

2. Beach

Gone is summer's lazy, endless-day pace. Gone also are autumn's short days of confident sunshine. This is winter. Brawling, inconstant, teasing. You prepare or stay indoors. The only thing the one-day beach sand sculptor can count on is a shortage of light. Be quick, my son, for the monster is out there, holding wind and rain and you never know when it will show up, nor from what direction. Be quick.

The ocean is chaos. Waves, big ones, hammer the breakwater and spume flies into the grey sky. Squalls hide parts of the western horizon but hints of sunlight come through inland. My chosen building site is about 100 feet farther east than the last one, due to erosion of the beach by the storms.

It's about an hour and a half before high tide. I start digging and a huge wave promptly comes in, covers this area that hadn't been hit in several minutes, and takes everything away. I move ten feet up the beach and start again. This site is also immediately hit, but not so strongly. Maybe I should move to the Boardwalk, but even it wouldn't be too safe. Farther south, that 100 feet of disappeared beach has brought the water very close to the lifeguard headquarters building.

There is no plan for the sculpture, other than to make sure I can leave as soon as real rain hits. A multiple seems to fit the day because I can do as much as there's time for: if the day starts to fall apart, just do one quick sculpture and call it good. If it's stable, try for something more complex. On days like this flexibility is important.

The Quick Filter helps greatly with being flexible. Use whatever sand is available and screen most of the junk out of it. There's plenty of junk, too, leaves and fragments that plug even this screen. I have to dump out the detritus after every addition. Still, it goes quickly.

Too quickly. My site is still being hit by waves, so I set up the form again on a new base and make a second pile. It's not as close to the first as I wanted, but those boisterous waves have redesigned my borrow pit. I'd forgotten that under these conditions erosion happens while you watch.

By the time the second pile is finished, the waves have reluctantly quit trying to take out the sculpture. A few love pats still arrive but the big bases resist their blandishments. I can start carving.

3. Sculpture

The Santa Monica Mountains have been erased. Downtown Santa Monica is veiled in grey. Watery sunshine bathes my patch of beach as I take a tool to the sand.

This means I have to come up with an idea. Multiples require more sculpture ideas and 11 of them have reduced my backlog. Amid all the plans I made for this day--assembling kit, thinking about the tide and rain and alternatives--I forgot to think about what to do if I did get a chance to put tool to sand. Quit thinking. Start carving.

One broad swipe with the Sand Knife tells me that my packing wasn't the best. Probably too much sand in each screen load. It's as good as an unfiltered pile, which will require a careful touch and good engineering. Eventually a broad panel curves over and around the top, with a hollow cut out on the northeast. The other side gets cut away into a bigger space, inviting a series of small holes and ribs under that slab of top.

Larry has my Steel Fingers, the whole batch. He was supposed to have been here by now to return them, but I wind up carving the details with alternative tools. I've tried to introduce him to carving with what's available, but he's not interested. So I do it myself, using tools not designed for this task in unusual ways to carve what I want. The advantage of doing this is that it keeps me sharp. The carver is more important than the tool; it's my hand telling the tool where to go, and failures can be seen as failures in imagination. Don't have the right tool? Figure out how to make the wrong tool work. Run what you brung. The result here is good, if less smooth than could be done with the Steel Finger.

Tools do have one real advantage. They can cut more delicately than a real flesh and blood finger can, and I have to restrain myself from getting my hands in there to shape the parts directly. Older sculptures were robust enough to stand up to hand work, but modern ones require a tool's sharp edge.

Larry finally shows up shortly after I start working on Unit B. He hands me my tools, and the handles that a woodworking shop made from my models. They are decent copies of my designs, right down to the assymetric handles, but they show no real understanding of why they were designed as they were. Despite what Larry says, the real Sandragon Toolworks wouldn't have turned these out. They are slightly rough and slab-sided, lacking the hand-kindliness that characterizes a true Sandragon tool. That's not too surprising, given that modern Sandragon tools have several years of development behind them and that development shows in more than the gross shape.

I'm delighted to have my tools back, and I promptly go back to Unit A and use the Steel Finger to refine the internal structure. I like good tools.

Unit B, at this point, requires no such refinement. Its destiny is to be a shell, an idea that first showed up in 1996 and has never been done very well. In a hurry, reaching into the well of ideas, and this is what comes out. Good enough; just because I've never done it well doesn't mean it can't be done well.

Part of my intent is to echo part of Unit A. Stand at one angle and you see the interior of Unit A and I want to link B with that. As usual, however, the design takes on its own life and the echo doesn't work all that well. Only in superficial features do the designs resemble each other.

As I work on this, Larry pushes his photo album into my face. For one who calls himself sensitive he seems very insensitive to the fact that I'm trying to get a sculpture off before the roof falls in. I take a cursory glance and then ignore him. He stands there for a time and then realizes I'm not there. Choose your time better; the world isn't centered on you and your needs. Wait for an invitation.

Oh, well. It's just nice to be here, a pile of sand before me and a tool in my hand. Storms thrash around offshore, wind comes and goes. Surfers shout at each other, running to get back on the ocean after their wild rides on the big waves.

"Hi, Rich!" He looks different.
"Hi, Larrys." We laugh. "Note the new jacket. Lorna didn't like the other one's football-player shoulders." It has pile lining, and insulation. Just the perfect thing for today's darkening sky.
"I have your camera. It's in the black bag, with my digital. It has batteries but no film."
"Thank you."

Time presses. There's plenty of potential daylight, but curtains of rain are dropping all around us. I continue refining the shapes of Unit B's elements.
"Everyone needs to go through a Rococo period. I may have gone too far with this." It needs simplicity but I can't put the sand back; the only route out is to make the complexity work. Subtle trimming and reshaping helps pull the many small parts together into one large composition.

Space and sand. One project my mother had for me in my visit last weekend was to remount some small shelves that hold her collection of New Mexican Santos.
"This one needs to be about an inch higher."
I hold it up. "About here?"
"Yes. That looks good."
When you've been working together for a lifetime the teamwork gets smooth. I drill a new hole and mount the shelf, bending the brackets so they'll hold the shelf level.
"How's that?"
"Great. Much better. See how the shape of the space around the sculptures holds them together?"
"Yes." Interesting. Everything comes from somewhere. I learned composition from her, all that time spent hanging pictures and such.

The north side of Unit B gets short shrift, a couple of curving slots that don't do much for the design. Things are looking dark. There's a storm coming in from the west, but it looks to be falling apart. Another is farther north and will probably miss us. I start cleaning up, with subtle trimming and the usual brushing.

"Hi, Larry. I'm Bj Cotton-Jeffords."
"Oh! Thanks for coming; I'm glad to meet you." We shake hands. I'd sent an Email to her announcing this sculpture.
"Did you get an invitation?"
"Yes. I haven't called the RSVP line yet. Been too distracted."
"Good. I'll see you there, then." She heads off. I go back to work, trying to manage vanishing resources of energy and time and rain-free beach to finish, or at least come close to finishing. Finally I get the sculptures into pretty good shape but the base needs help.

"I just felt a raindrop."
"Oh, quit worrying. It's just blown in from someplace else." Yes, indeed, but that someplace else is coming our way. My grandfather used to play a game with his hands. "Watch this one," he'd say, circling his right hand. Then he'd reach out with his left and tag us. Well, we just got tagged while I was watching the wrong way.

"I'm out of here."
"Bye, Rich." Big drops pour out of a dark sky. I put on my raincoat and put the camera inside an inverted bucket. Rain hits my hat and soaks through. What's more interesting is how it affects the tops of the sculptures: the drops hit with enough force to dislodge sand, and the top quarter-inch is all torn up. The effect is attractive. Rain falls, tapers off, then increases again.
"That's the clearing-up shower." This comment is aimed at Larry and another man, who has been watching for a couple of hours.
"I'm going to bail also."
"See you later, Larry."

In this case the promise is correct. One last flurry and the rain ends. Sunshine struggles through the clouds to sparkle on the dynamic ocean. I quickly shoot some images. More rain seems to be coming; the western horizon is dark grey and indistinct.

"All right. That's good. Time to get out of here while I'm still fairly dry."
The watcher introduces himself. "I'm John." He has been here most of the afternoon, carrying on animated conversation with other passersby.
"I'm Larry." We chat for a few minutes, watching the light change. I shoot a few more images and then pack up. Most of what I have is wet, and I'm lucky to have my shoes. One extra-energetic wave came in while I was packing and flooded everything. Rainwater has collected inside the cart.

I am very tired. Events are catching up. Once the cart is loaded I decide to take the concrete route home, up the boardwalk. Fortunately it's not crowded.
"Hey, man, did you make a sculpture today?"
I stop and turn. "Yes."
"One or two?"
"Two. They're still there if you want to take a look. Came out pretty well."
"Great." He, one of the vendors, turns to the man beside him. "He makes sand sculptures. Down on the beach."
I pick up the cart's handle and then pick up my feet. Hot food draws me homeward.

It's odd to be home so early from a sculpture. Daylight, what comes in through the clouds, until the sun goes west. Rain starts as I take a shower and I go to sleep to the sound of runoff from the roof.

It'll rain all day. Fine. I got what I needed.

4. Phototropism

I awaken to silence. Moonlight softly fills the backyards. Thin clouds attenuate the light. As I walk to the grocery store I see what should be the day's storm off to the west, reaching, blocking the sun. No problem. I have things to do.

The sun, however, wins the day. The next time I poke my head outside the sky is completely clear. It pulls. I save the report, grab the skateboard and camera, then catch a bus south to West Marine. I need bolts for the new Cercoscreenus.

A playful wind runs through my hair as I push north from West Marine. A skateboard is perfect for days like this. No hurry, cool, beautiful. I detour through the park in Marina del Rey but eventually end up at Venice Beach. For Mirjam I get some shots showing how accurate those predictions of "heavy rain" were.

I walk north at the foot of the long berm of sand scraped up to protect the low-lying parking lot. The high tides have undermined this and caused tall cliffs to form. I've been wondering if I'd get any bas-relief sculptures done this year and here's my chance. I do three. These are actually no longer bas-relief sculptures, their undercut and tunnelled parts turning them into true relief sculptures. These are big, coarse, made with strong arm movements. Subtlety doesn't show against the background. I do three of them, with the middle one not working very well.

Walking farther north I see what looks like the remains of yesterday's sculpture, but that can't be. Must be someone standing there. No, it is the sculpture. Unit A is still about half intact. Unit B is just a stump. To these someone has added a reclining cat, nicely done.

This is neat. A beautiful day, clear, delightful, no destination, open-ended. I push north along the bike path and a man passes me on a bike.
"That must be fun."
"It is." In all its different ways.

Written December 22

Multiple Returns: 02M-1

2007-03-27T13:57:00.000-07:00

The Architect and the Ringer

Step one is helping to dig out an SUV that was inadvisedly taken from its normal concrete habitat. The poor thing is in up to the axle in dry sand. Helpless, and the operators are without a clue as to how to get it out. I show them how to use sweat for the job, and then walk over to the contest registration tent.

"Hi. Who are you with?"
"Continental Development."
"Great. You're in plot #3, over there."
"Thanks. Is there anything in the rules about using only sand within the plot?"
"Nope."
"OK. I'll go get the rest of my equipment."

Dry. You wouldn't believe how much water this sand will adsorb. It's more economical to haul wet sand up the beach than to bring water to mix with the dry, high-beach sand.

"What's going on?" Two eager surfers, pausing on their way to the waves.
"A sand sculpture contest, for Heal the Bay." Various other groups have arrived, well before the official start time, to cache water around their plots. This saves some time. With only four hours allowed for working even a few minutes are worth saving. "Companies pay to enter, then assemble a team of employees to make a sculpture."
"You're the only one here who looks like he knows what he's doing."
"I was hired to do the job."
"Oh, a ringer!"
Don't say that too loudly, please.

"Larry, we'd like to hire you to videotape our wedding."
"When's it happening?"
"June 30. That's a Sunday."
"OK, Eldwin, nothing else is happening that weekend. I'll be sure to rest up for it." Chinese weddings run all day.

"Larry, this is David, with Continental Development Corporation. We're entering a sand sculpture contest in a couple of weeks. We're wondering if you could help us with it. Please call me back and let me know."

"Hello. David Chang speaking."
"Hi, David. This is Larry Nelson, the sand sculptor, returning your phone call."
"Oh, hi, Larry! Thanks for calling me back!"
At least he sounds enthusiastic, and he remembers making the phone call. Sometimes they don't.
"What we have is a sand castle contest that Heal the Bay is putting on. We want to enter this year, and were wondering if you could help us out."
"Where is it taking place?"
"Venice Beach."
Well, that's good news! A contest with decent sand!
"It's part of Bay Days. Companies pay $300 to enter their teams. We want to enter so we can build some name recognition."
"When does this happen?"
"June 29."
Oh, my. Life just got more complicated. Maybe. We talk about plans and possibilities. "Probably the best thing you could do now would be to look at my Web site and see if you like my style of sculpture."
"We already have. That's quite a Web site! I never knew how much it takes to make a sculpture."
"Well, then, what do you want to make?"
"Let me talk about that with my co-workers. I'll call you back."
I've heard that before.

The phone rings.
"Hi, Larry. This is David Chang. How would you like to play in the sand for us?"
"What's the plan?"
"You make a sculpture. We'll help."

Build number: 02M-1 (lifetime start #243)
Title: "Bigger Than It Looks"
Date: June 29
Location: Venice Beach, north of Breakwater
Start: 0900 formal, 0800 prep; stop time 1300
Height, Unit A: 3.5 feet (Latchform); Unit B: 1.8 feet (Latchform)
Base: 1.75 feet nominal, each piece (ellipsoid)
Photo 35mm: approx 10 exp TMX135 w/Baggiemat
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich
Video motion: partial walkaround, detail tracking w/XL1 (25 min on two tapes)
Video still: various, no plan
Video volunteer: George, w/XL1
New Equipment: Rebuilt Steel Finger (#2C); #25 Steel Thumb type 2

1. The Parameters of the Problem

Venice Beach. The name conjures mental images of golden sand, blue water, and carnival. Surfing. Sunset walks after endless summer days. Tourists come and leave and the image stays intact, unaffected by their quick visit. Some of us know better, we who have dug into the sand, felt the force of winter surf, fought tooth and nail to defend a sand sculpture from a hungry tide.

Sand is sand. Mix it with some water, push it together and make something. A call to the event director brings bad news: the contest site is north of the Breakwater. The sand there is never anything but coarse. This is all right for sand creations that are both low and wide but it demands very careful packing to make anything that satisfies me. I compensate by searching the beach for the finest sand, and have built equipment for hauling good sand from where it is to where I need it.

We can deal with bad sand; with help and determination I made a sculpture in Santa Cruz where the sand is even worse. The second dimension of this job is time: four hours, hard-edged. Santa Cruz was limited only by how early I wanted to get up. Good sand is, however, very far away even for one equipped with a cart designed for hauling heavy loads over beach sand.

Eldwin's wedding is going to run all day and I'll be busy. Usually I plan nothing for the day after a sculpture, but this sculpture will be only four hours. Go home afterward, relax, get ready for the next event. No problem.

I load up all the equipment and head out at 0745. Sand sculpture time is different; it seems to be thinner and faster-flowing. An hour spent on preparation will help.

2. Advance Work (It's Only Cheating If You're Caught)

"I didn't know we could get sand!" This comment floats my way from the #4 plot. Most of the groups here early are hauling water and setting buckets around their plots. Standard sculpture contest practice. I've been fetching wet sand because, in my experience, sand packs more reliably when it's already wet than when it starts out dry. It's also a way to be more efficient by hauling sand and water together.

Hauling sand isn't prohibited, and stockpiling it doesn't need any of my limited number of buckets. Another comment comes from next door: "They've got a ringer over there." There is a difference. Specialized equipment and a certain determination, not to mention knowledge specific to this beach. I know this place. I know what to do. Competence feels good.

Then I get a really radical thought. If water's OK, then wet sand is OK. If getting sand from outside my plot is OK, then I can go anyplace, if there's time. Six hundred feet south, the storm drain has done its usual good job of collecting the fine, creamy sand that is the reason I sculpt here. Layers of the finer sand will help hold the sculpture together, and these darker layers will make interesting contrast with the lighter native sand. Any temptation to fetch another four-bucket load gets sweated out of me. A rare occurrence: cheating makes more work.

3. Teamwork (Management as Ad-hoc as the Sculpture)

"Larry?"
"Yes."
"Hi. I'm Ernie."
"Nice to meet you."
"What do you want me to do?"
"The sand is very dry up here. We'll save time by bringing wet sand up the beach; see where I've been digging? You can use the cart to haul sand, and just dump it on the pile."
"All right."
"Thanks for the help."
"No problem. Just bring home the gold."
Fat chance. I signed a contract, sent by a lawyer. It states that I will produce a sculpture similar to what's on my Web site, and that it will be finished at the stated time. There's nothing in there about winning. Just do my best to see that it's still standing when the whistle blows.

David is the next to arrive, looking as enthusiastic as he sounded on the telephone. We shake hands. "What do I need to do?"

Four hours. I thought long and hard about how to use the time. Use the big form? I did some repair work on it and made sure all of its parts were available, but eventually decided that its 28 cubic feet of sand were more than we could handle. It also takes longer to set up. That latter argument also precluded the tall sailcloth form.

Four hours. In the old "fling it in and hit it with a stick" days the simple process lent itself to flexible timing. Process improvements and improving ideas led to 10-hour sculptures, followed by 11-hour ones and even longer. If I had enough daylight; 8-hour winter days felt cramped.

What can you do with four hours? With bare hands, not much. Tools are levers working with time. What takes ten strokes with a hand might be done with one stroke of a well-designed tool, offset somewhat by the task of choosing the tool. The tool might also do the job better so it wants less refinement and clean-up. I've been under some economic pressure lately, needing to produce sculpture on a schedule, and have discovered that yesterday's 10-hour sculpture takes about five hours now.

We have four hours. The key word here is "we." By practicing "fastpacking" I can fill the Latchform with 8.5 cubic feet of sand in about an hour.

"You can start building!"
Shouts ring out and teams attack the sand. All the other plots swarm with people; we have five, but they know how to work. When there are empty buckets, someone fills them. When I need sand, Russ is there with half a bucket to pour into the form.

I draw a line. "My idea is to make this a sort of seagull roost or house. We'll make waves over here, hitting a beach here. The sculpture will be on a headland."
"What do we do?"
"Main thing is to get this whole area damp."

In half an hour we have the form full. "We're ahead of schedule; I budgeted an hour for the piling."

I step back and look. That one cylinder is awfully lonely in this huge plot. This has always been a problem: you can have size, or good packing. For myself this doesn't matter but we're up against sculptures that are already much larger. Four hours. Virginia and I talked about this years ago: how to make a small fine sculpture fill a huge plot. One answer was to make several sculptures, and one possibility was a Zen garden style. We don't have time for that today.

"Were you all watching as I filled this?"
"Yes."
"OK. Let's make a second pile right here. I'll start carving this one while you pack. Fill it about half full."

Four hours. I pop the form off the big pile and immediately set it up again on another base a few feet away. It's still small, but the interaction of the two pieces might help; it's something I've thought about for years but have so far expressed it only twice. Any idea wants practice. Then I realize that most of my recent free-pile sculptures have been, in design, multi-part pieces. Do the same thing here, but bigger. They go to work filling the form as I choose a tool and start carving.

4. Under Contract (The Economics of Compromise)

The tool hits the sand. Performance time. Can I run with the big boys? Make it beautiful, make it fit the theme, make it on time. We're a long way from one man, a spoon and sunset the only limit.

The newly rebuilt #2C Steel Finger feels good in the hand but isn't the right tool for this job. I put it down and pick up the other new one, the #25 Steel Thumb; its new sharp edge digs in until sand packs up against the supporting wood. There's no time for this. I put that one down and grab the Loop Tool.

Think seagulls. Graceful curves. Leave out the squabbling, leave in the strength. Lousy sand, but the top few inches are pretty strong because they're made of the last bucket of fine sand. I didn't filter any of it, and drilling the first hole reveals a problem: a chunk of sand lifts when the tool runs into a shell. I back out, spray the spot and drill more carefully and the sand stays put.

Now, this edge needs to be a long curve. It will continue into the base and over to the second unit. At the top it'll lean over and loop around. Good. Curve this back. Over here, ah, there's our first seagull standing on a wingtip. Or perhaps a pelican at the start of its dive.

"David, do you want a logo or something over here?"
"That would be good, Russ. Larry, how do we do that?"
"Make a nice smooth pad. Here's a tool for it. If you tilt the sand panel it'll be easier to read."
"OK. How about carving?"
"Hmm." I hand him the Steel Pinky. "Try this."
"That works. Now, David, what's that logo?"
"CD, in a circle."
"Is it a full circle? I thought there was a break."
"Here's one of my cards."
"Good. Thanks."

Russ is apparently a friend rather than a co-worker. More importantly, he's a mierenneuker. Making logos is unbelievably difficult, calling for attention to detail that the Dutch euphemism fits perfectly. I can't do it.
"Russ, for those wide areas you might find this tool better." I hand him the original Steel Thumb. Tools' forms are forced by their intended use, but a good tool in the hand of a determined user can accomplish far more than its designer intended. I have none of the tools professionals use for logos in sand but there are stand-ins and I learn from watching him work.

Even David's wife gets into the process, spraying the sculptures and logo while we work. This saves over an hour in itself and I think of her as the "Spray Wight" for no other reason than I like the name.

"Russ, do you want to do a title, also?" He's finished with the CD logo.
"Sure."
"Put it right there. The title is 'Seagull House.'"
He goes to work. If I ever do another corporate sculpture I hope I can hire him. I even flunked lettering in the junior-high drafting class.

"Larry, do you want some water?"
"No time."
"Would you drink it if I got it?"
"Yes. Thanks, George." He's here to do videography but has finished the tape. He brings a bottle provided by the event organizers and I dump it down my throat. The day is heating up.

With the big sculpture's design well established, it's time to think about the small one. Its larger neighbor is looking rather complex so I decide to make the short one simpler. It'll slant back toward the big piece, with curving ribs to reinforce the implied motion. Waste sand from both goes into the sloping connection between them.

"I've been looking at the competition. The folks next door have been making lots of comments about cheating. Not many ideas here, however."
"Thanks, George." I wonder if the other teams will protest; as far as I know, Continental is the only company that thought to hire a sculptor. Add this low-grade worry to all of the others. The primary worry is still about the sand holding together.

"One hour. You have one hour left." That man surely loves his bullhorn. And I need to get it into gear; on a typical sand sculpture day I spend upward of an hour just in clean-up.
"Move sand, Larry!" I mutter to myself. "You need to lighten this thing."
"What are you going to do with that top? It looks rough."
George has a good point. I do some delicate trimming and hollowing. Other places need work and brushing.

The Official Sand Sculpture Time is 1245. I sweep my footprints out of the plot with the broom and rake David brought. Russ puts the finishing touches on "Seagull House," and with a few minutes to spare we call it finished.

"Larry, I have some gardening work to do. Call me when you get back home."
"OK, George. Have fun!"

"Stop carving! All teams, stop carving." Bullhorn Man is making his rounds.

My usual objective is to produce the best possible sculpture, with the only limit being my skill. All aspects of my process are directed to this end. Economic forces lead to change; yes, make a sculpture but it has to be done on time and it has to stand. Compromise. In 1997 this would have been a good piece, but it would have taken all day. Why is it that art must give way to economics?

5. Judgement (Waiting for the Hangman)

This project has brought together the efforts and talents of several people. It has cost the company at least $800.
"David, do you think it's worth it?"
"Oh, yes. Definitely."

I look at the competition and wonder. Our sculpture looks lost in its wide plot, especially because it's flanked on one side by a titanic struggle between two sea creatures and on the other by a huge flying saucer decorated with bottles and shells. In our plot is nothing but sand and it looks austere by comparison.

Farther down is a huge sea turtle, with a nest and hatchlings. Two teams have carved huge octopi with various imaginative ways of forming the suckers. The only other team to use forms has produced a large structure that transforms fish skeletons into healthy fish.
"It's a nice idea, but the flags don't add anything."
"I agree, Rich." We're taking a tour of the completed sculptures as I munch on a much-needed bagel.

The most interesting of the competitors is a different take on the Zen garden idea. They have carved Japanese writing along one edge of the plot; apparently it means something like "A Place for Serenity at the Beach." The theme for the contest is "A Place at the Beach."
"This gets my vote for second place."
"Really? It's not much."
"I know. The idea is much better than the execution, but I like the idea a lot. They should have worked harder at it."
In the far corner is a plastic-lined pool, with carefully laid patches of seaweed around it. Farther to the right are three smooth mounds of sand. In the large middle section are three three-rock stacks. Step back and let the design speak; forget the weak production values and amplify it in your mind. Too much work for most people. The other sculptures here reach out and grab the passerby, imposing their size on everyone. How do you tell someone that their idea is great but needs much more work to make it real? I settle for telling them that I like the piece a lot.

"Yours has the best craftsmanship."
"Thank you." Most passersby don't notice things like this.

The judges are gathered near our sculpture. They are one of the stranger aspects of the day, being two City engineers, a real estate reporter, an athlete and a design instructor.
"Tell us about your sculpture."
"I sort of imagined a place for seagulls to live." The judges look at me with faces of stone and the word-well rapidly goes dry. "You need to, uh, walk all the way around it."
They amble off, between our piece and the spaceship, and then turn away. David and I look at each other and shrug our shoulders. Judges are strange.
"It seems that my sculpture either does really well or completely tanks. I won the first contest, tanked at the next two."

I hotfoot it across the sand for another bagel. Then I pick up equipment in a daze. Why a daze? It was a four-hour sculpture. Well, five if you count advance work. It's actually an eight-hour sculpture forced into four, and I feel all eight of them.

"We'll need a representative from your team. We're going to announce the results."
We all straggle over to the bagel tent, only to be told, as I stand in the shade to save my feet, that we have to go to the main stage. I run to get shoes and catch up with the group. The bike path is closed by attendants so that we can cross; the place is very busy. Booths all over the place and people wandering.

The main stage is a beehive. People mill around under reasonably efficient control of the event staff.
"Hi, I'm Kevin. What's your name?" He's the leader of the spaceship team.
"I'm Larry. How long has this contest been running? I never heard of it."
"This is our second year."
"I saw you were prepared, with a profile for your ship. What do you, plan this?"
"Yes. Two months or so before the event we send around an Email to find out how many people are interested. Then we get together and start throwing ideas out. When one seems to take over we work out how to make it. That outline was made last night by one of our people."

On the stage dancers throw themselves around to execrable imitation music. Sampling is to music what word processing is to writing: easy tools, but the skills still take time to learn. Many people don't bother.

"Why'd they bring us up here so early?"
I'm tempted to leave. I see no chance for us to win anything. I also remember feeling the same thing at Santa Cruz. Finally the dancers bounce off the stage and the MC starts to announce the sculpture contest. The usual fluff, and then the judges are introduced. That's odd. They don't introduce any of the people who did the work. The athlete must be famous because he gets more applause than the others.

David and I stand there, waiting. They start with the Judges' Special Award, otherwise known as Honorable Mention. It goes to one of the other teams; David and I look at each other and say, nearly simultaneously, "That was our best chance." Third prize goes to the spaceship, and Kevin walks up to the stage to accept the trophy. It's a thick slab of acrylic, carved on top to simulate a wave, with the event information etched into the back below that. They're in graded sizes. Second prize goes to another team.

By this time I've pretty well tuned out, and am staying just because moving is too much work. Another also-ran, another victory for size. Who will it be? I don't much care. All I'm thinking is that in two weeks I'm going to do a real sculpture. Good sand, plenty of time, no economic justification. I daydream about designs.

"And now we have first prize. Drum roll, please." But there's no drummer. "First prize goes to . . . Continental Development Corporation!"
I wake up, late, and David also looks surprised. We look at each other as if to confirm what we heard. Finally we get moving, up the stairs to the stage where the MC hands David the trophy. I give the crowd a thumbs-up. Scattered applause accompanies our walk off the stage. Ten seconds of fame.

6. Aftermath (Where'd the Energy Go?)

"I heard you won!"
"Yes, Rich."
"I went back to get my pack and just happened to walk past when they were announcing the results. Congratulations!" We shake hands.

There really isn't anything like winning. I can see how people could become addicted to it.
Ernie comes up. "Congratulations!"
"Yah, we brought home the gold. I couldn't have done it without you."

Back at the site I shoot some final video, including some of David with the trophy.
"I can't believe it. I thought we were dead last, from the way the judges looked."
"They must have liked the difference."
"Yah. Well, we earned it." We exchange a final handshake, and I think about ways to improve the sculpture. Next year? Maybe.

Getting my kit back to the bike takes two trips. Getting home takes what energy is left. First prize. Amazing. I feel some pride. Difficult conditions have been overcome and we did it. My own judgement says "It's just a sand sculpture in a local contest," but the internal judge can't completely quash the warm glow of pride.

George comes by and we sit on the porch, letting the breeze cool us. It's a lovely evening, and nice to get out of the relentless summer sun.

Take that, you "bigger is better" believers. On this day, with this improbable group of judges, a small sculpture rose over you all. A victory means as much as a defeat: not much. All that matters is the sand.

Noise and bustle wash over me. Glasses start to tinkle. By the time I've become alert enough to understand, picked up the camcorder, turned it on and gotten it pointed in the right direction, Eldwin and Jennifer have already kissed.
"Larry, you look tired."
"Yah. That's what I get for doing eight hours of work yesterday in four hours." The banquet drags on. My patience really wears thin on the way home but I don't run into anything and am finally able to fall into bed. This was just too much.

7. Addendum (The Debate: Inside Frame Vs. Outside)

The first tool I made was the Loop Tool. Based on a design I saw in Ted Siebert's book, this is a good multipurpose carving tool. Its square end, however, isn't good for reaching inside a narrow opening because the blade is parallel to the sand surface.

Hold your index finger against a vertical surface. The blunt end doesn't dig in very well, but imagine your fingernail extended, curved downward and made of steel. I'd used my fingers to carve the insides of sculptures for years but improved packing technique led to problems. Fingernails just aren't tough enough. So, I made the Steel Finger.

The first one was just a bent strip of steel attached to a simple wooden handle in what I came to call an "inside frame" design: the handle was below the blade when the tool was in use, the idea being to make the tool's working end as compact as possible. The tool didn't work very well because the blade extended too far beyond the last screw, and bent upward as soon as I put much pressure on it.

I made a new Steel Finger with a short blade and lightweight handle, also in the inside frame style. It's a good tool, but as I carve with the side of the blade sand packs up because the handle is in the way. The Loop Tool doesn't have this problem; nothing prevents free fall of carved sand.

Still, the finger was enough of a success that I made a smaller version with a shorter handle and narrower blade. Because of the way I bent the blade, I made this tool with an outside frame. It's a great tool, useful in many different situations.

Encouraged, I made a wider version: the Steel Thumb. Actually, this turned into two tools, a prototype and the final version. The prototype's frame is outside, the final one's inside. I thought the sand-packing problem would be taken care of by its wider blade.

Two strokes showed the error of that thought. Even with the blade extending well away from the wooden handle, sand gets stuck and prevents effective carving.

To be efficient, a tool has to do a job and stay out of the user's way as much as possible. Any tool causes problems as it solves them, and requires some learning. Is it worthwhile to learn? Does it do a good job, or is it mainly productive of frustration? A good tool is graceful and beautiful, but it has no purpose unless it is also useful.

One point is just that: a point. No trend is established, no prediction can be made. Two points start to make meaning. Two of my "finger" type tools see frequent use while two others spend a lot of time in the tool tub. Both of the effective ones are outside frame. This looks to me like a trend.

Written July 1
Edited and amended July 5

Postscript: I talked with someone about the 2003 Heal the Bay contest. An "anti-ringer" ordinance had been passed: everyone working on the sculpture had to be an employee of the company that entered. I walked to the contest, having remembered just in time, and either because of the no-ringer clause or something else the sculptures were lame. Small and badly made. I don't know if the contest survived another year.

02M-11

2007-03-21T14:10:00.000-07:00

Last Chance

People wander the damp narrow brick street under myriads of colored lights. Shop fronts are glowing and fake frost decorates their windows. Even in a place where one has to drive an hour to find snow, it's associated with holidays.

I work my way though the crowd. Friday night. The rain was just enough to freshen the air, and ended at a convenient time. With some relief I open the toolshop's door.

"I'll be right there!"
A couple of cats come out, and then become alert.
"You smell my neighbor's cat, don't you? Well, she's a good cat. I'm on kitty detail while he's out of town." I lean down so they can sniff my hands; eventually they decide I'm all right.

"Here it is."
"Wow. That's impressive." Two octagonal rings of PVC pipe, with vertical pipes holding them about a foot apart, and a half-octagon handle looping up from the top ring. Hardware cloth covers the sides.
"This is the last of its kind."
"I can see some advantages, though. For one, it fits the form better."
"Yah. I hope it works."
"Maybe you can make one for each size of form." I duck quickly enough to keep from wearing the new screen.
"Unfortunately, it's not finished yet. Taking a great long time, it is. I should have made a jig to hold the parts for glueing. All those little bitty pieces, each having to be cut precisely. And then you have about 300 milliseconds to glue them precisely. The only saving grace is a balancing of imprecision. Don't look too closely."
"I think it will work well, even if it doesn't meet your standards."
"I'm learning a lot, too; I'll use what I've learned to rebuild your Quick Filter so that it's less dangerous to you." We both laugh. I've already scratched myself with that one a few times, but it is fomenting a revolution.

Coarse sand sculpture that holds nearly as well as fine sand. Less work, more locations, a stretching of the ecological niche.

"No problem. I'll just use the original tomorrow."
"Great. Let me know what breaks."
"Will do. Thanks."

I walk home through light rain. Airplanes bore bright holes through tattered clouds. More rain is predicted for tomorrow. Only the new day's sunlight will tell for sure. Sculpture? Bike ride? Working on tools in my dry garage? A sculpture would be best; I'd like to wind up the Vacation Series with a bang.

Build number: 02M-11 (lifetime start #258); 3 units amid earthworks and borrow pits. Unit C failed before whole piece was completed.
Title: "New Bamboo: Pandemonium"
Date: November 30
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 0800, construction time 7.5 hours
Unit A: 41 inches tall, 21 inches diameter nominal, immersion screened native sand (Latchform)
Unit B: 30 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, immersion screened native sand (Short Form)
Unit C: 29 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, immersion screened native sand (Short Form). This piece failed after it was finished.
Plan: Unit A on crescent-shaped riser base on east end of central borrow pit. Unit B on low base at west end of central borrow pit. Unit C in borrow pit south of central one. Crescent-shaped borrow pit east of central one. Unit C's pit shaped to fit with central pit.
Helpers: none
Digital Images: 74, with Canon Powershot G2 (includes Rich's safeties)
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich, w/Baggiemat and Powershot G2
Video motion: none (camcorder left at home deliberately)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: Larry Dudock, w/Elura
New Equipment: none

1. Sunlight

The street is damp, water drips occasionally from the eaves, and condensation covers all the car windows but the sky is washed-out blue with a few streamers of cloud. Farther to the west it looks the same. Half an hour later I'm on my way.

It's a fairly historic occasion: the box filter is still in the garage, replaced for this high-tide sculpture with the Quick Filter. Equipment is easy to gather but plans are different; I have no idea what to make. As usual the important thing is to start.

A wide smooth expanse of clean sand welcomes me to the beach. I could put a whole sculpture garden out here.

Puffs of cloud crown the mountains, small now but having potential. Vapor in the air attenuates the sunlight but it still warms me as I choose a spot and start digging. A man watches as I industriously shovel sand from a hole onto a rising pile but he says nothing.

Well, OK, how about making a curving base and putting the Latchform on top of that? Then I could put a smaller sculpture over there at the borrow pit's west end. That's enough of a plan for now.

I dig another borrow pit east of the original and use that sand to fill the form. This is the first time I've used the Latchform with the Quick Filter and there are two problems. One is that this form is deeper so I can't see the filter, which means I can't aim the shovels of sand as I drop them in. It's hit or miss. The form is also bigger, giving more opportunity to miss. I'll just have to hope that no sculpture-breakers fall outside the screen's frame down there.

I get hints of another problem. The sand seems more coarse than usual. Can that be? Such a big difference in only the ten feet between here and the other borrow pit? If so, it'll be a good test of the Quick Filter's ability to improve packing quality.

When that form is full I set up the Short Form at the other end of the borrow pit and fill it. This sand seems OK. After that's filled, the sculpture ensemble seems to need something. A third pile. Where? The obvious places are too obvious: next to the tall one, or close to the second one. Try harder. Ah. There's the spot. Dig a shelf in the side of Unit B's borrow pit and put it there. Should make nice shadows.

The clouds are growing. The Santa Monica Mountains have brilliant build-ups of cumulus over them and inland are even bigger potato-piles of vapor. Overhead, however, is clear and blue. Farther to the west are only a few little puffballs. The air has cleared and the sea sparkles. A few pelicans circle south of the breakwater and then dive. Some sets of big swells come in, rise and take surfers with them. What a delight.

2. Design

Unit B is already peeled so I'll start with it. My idea is to have a flat face directed at Unit A, which will get some similar treatment. Beyond that the plan rapidly disappears into haze.

First of all, was 02M-10 a fluke? Nope. This pile is just as resistant to being carved as the prior ones, which means immersion screening yields consistently good piles. The pack quality invites more detailed carving and my imagination runs wild. The sculpture takes on internal structure and detail that I never thought possible with this kind of sand.

It has a sort of squarish frame. Inside that are curving complications. Well, why not try a similar design in Unit A? I walk over there and remove the Latchform from the pile. The first cut goes with a gritty crunch that's unusual here at the Breakwater. The sand was indeed coarser over here, layers mixed with the better sand. Somewhat more than half the sand is coarser than anything I've carved here before this.

The miracle is in how well it holds together. Even reasonably sharp, crisp edges hold on. Utterly amazing. I carve with great abandon, even cutting a hole through near the bottom. The design isn't the best; it is, after all, coarse sand and I don't want to overdo it. Besides which, time is rushing past and there's one more piece to carve.

I'm not the only one running late.
"Larry said he'd be here to haul sand, Rich. Said he wanted to sculpt tomorrow, but looks like something else came up."
"He called us, too."
A few minutes later here he comes, ambling across the sand.
"Well, I managed to get most of what I needed. Left out the cart's wheels, however."
"A cart with no wheels doesn't do you much good." I'm trying to figure out what to do next and don't need distraction.
"Nope. This is true. Would you mind if I went and got your cart? It's either that or go back to get my wheels."
"No problem. The keys are attached to bungee cord in the table's pocket."

I'm hungry and tired. What to do on this third piece? The internal sculpture idea seems to be working well, so some variation of what I've done in the other two seems in order. But I want this one to be more smooth, less angular, so I carve and rub it into a smooth dome and bring the bottom inward so it looks as if it's ready to spring upward.

Larry is back.
"Where should I stash the sand?"
I point vaguely. "Over there. Go a few feet beyond last night's tide line."
He goes to work. "How many buckets does it take?"
"Sixteen full ones. Twenty if they're not full."

Symmetry to the rescue. Design one facet, duplicate it twice, and there's a sculpture. A graceful opening revealing spaces and curves inside. Symmetry can be boring to make but at the tag end of the day it fits. And it's a nice piece. Any of these three would hold up by itself, but this one is particularly elegant.

"I like this one, Rich. And to think it's made of native sand. Amazing. A few years ago I couldn't have gotten this out of good sand!"
Larry has finished his sand relocation and is fiddling with cameras and such, standing near my sculpture.
"And to think he owes it all to me. If he hadn't seen my screen in operation, he wouldn't have made the Ugly Filter."
Now, this is annoying. "Yah. I'd never have amounted to anything without you. But may I point out that you had the problem, and I solved it? And it's not the Ugly Filter. It has earned the name Quick Filter, even if it isn't the most beautiful tool I've ever made." The words come with some heat that makes what I mean clear.

Ah, forget it. The problem now is to finish this piece before the light goes away. Work on it.

"It's three o'clock." Rich announces this as if he wants to wring a few more minutes out of the day. "Look at the rainbow!"
I turn. Over the city is a solid white rampart of cloud, one of them striped in glowing color.
"I drove through rain most of the way to get here. Didn't stop until Marina del Rey. And it rained hard last night."
"I think we got some last night, but ever since it has been clear. What a glorious day."
"Yes."
"A little more work here, and then I have to do clean-up." I quickly work around the borrow pits, smoothing their edges and shaping the ridges, looking like any other kid in a big sandbox.

3. Shear Exhaustion

Many compromises must be made in order to produce a multiple sculpture. Time has to be budgeted and one thing that gets scanted is spraying.

After giving the earthworks a once-over--planning to fine-tine them after cleaning up the sculptures--I pick up the brush and start polishing Unit C. At the moment the beach is quiet.

I can hear the soft crack. It runs the full length of the sculpture. Damn. Too dry, too adventurous. Should have sprayed more.
"Big trouble over here!" Larry says.
"Yah, I know. Clean-up on that one is finished." I carefully climb out of the borrow pit and hope, as I go to work on Unit B, that the crack is only superficial.

A series of soft thuds tells me I'm wrong. Unit C has shed its outer panels on two sides, and the upper part of the third side is lying in smooth-surfaced shards on the top of the internal sculpture. My energy disappears just as fast. The rest of the clean-up is desultory.

"How will this go in the record book? Will it get a build number, or just a lifetime start?" That's Larry, our statistician, here to haul sand for his sculpture tomorrow. It will be his first entirely solo effort in California.
"I don't know." And I'm too tired to think about unimportant things.

I walk over to look at the fallen sculpture. Its core is still intact, along with the leg on the east.
"The top came straight down."
"No, Rich, this leg fell over. What you see is its top section lying on here." I poke at the blocks of smoothed sand. "It pushed the other two legs off. Too dry? It's well packed, but still not that great sand. In low-tide sand it would have held. Or if I'd sprayed it more. Maybe. Anyway, the top was too flat."
"And very thin."
"Yes. It simply pushed the two legs off the core."

4. Light

"The rainbow is back."
I line it up with the sculpture and get a few more images. My heart isn't really in it.

The day, however, ending in glory and maybe some of that shines on the sculpture.
"You know, Rich, if I had time I could rebuild Unit C."
He laughs. "You could reuse the sand."
"Yes. Wouldn't even have to filter it. Of course, I'd have to find the energy someplace.

Carving this sculpture was a lot of fun. Just that. No plan, interesting things came out, including the fact that the coarse sand held up. Mostly. This is also looking like a bona fide revolution, being able to make sculptures like these from common sand.

"There's part of Catalina, and the knob at the end of Point Dume is there."
"Yes." The air has cleared and the sun is flooding the area with gold. The vapor rampart ranges from immaculate white at the top to old gold, now turning orange, at the bottom. "What a day." We stand and watch as moment by moment colors change on far clouds. A sliver of sun comes through under clouds to the west that are only small brethren of the mighty pile over the city. An occasional lightning bolt lights up the works.

"It's time for an experiment. Black and white. This light is perfect for it."
"You can set the digital to shoot that way?"
"Yes. I've never done it." I mess with the buttons and get it set up. Shooting is just like anything else. I wonder how they'll look.

"I've had it, Rich." I start packing up, ready to go, and then I realize I've made a big mistake. "Larry has my keys. And the bike is locked." He went back to my apartment to unload the cart.
"Oh, my. I'd better go to your place."
"Yes, please. Tell him to come back with the keys. I can handle the trailer by myself."
"OK." He heads off. I sit down, my back hurting. As usual.

Various passersby walk past. Some ask about the sculpture. I sit and try to gather energy to get home. Finally I get up and in the last of the light--the wall of cloud has turned grey except for the very orange top--and tow the trailer across sand. This is made easy by the wetting it got last night. Then I just sit by my bike until I see someone with a flashlight.

"Over here, Larry."
"Right. I'm sorry about this. I didn't realize the bike key was on here."
Where did you think it was? It's an interesting lesson: Lord Chaos learning that there are reasons for routine. When I'm exhausted and unable to think clearly, it's important to do things the same way so that I don't lose something important. Larry completely disrupted the pattern and I was too focused, too tired, too out of it to figure this out.

Unlocked and rolling, I turn north but am distracted by a man with a display of flashing lights. LEDs, maybe? I stop to take a look. LEDs, yes, in various shaped pieces of plastic. Curiosity satisfied, I continue through the clear night. Lightning flashes in a distant cloud. I like rain, but I'm glad they left me alone to sculpt today. Monday I have to return to work.

Written December 1
Edited and amended December 7

Vacation Series sculptures:
November 12: 02P-8, In front of Manhattan power plant. Washed out. No photos.
November 13: 02M-6, three units all simple, Venice Breakwater flat
November 15: 02M-7, three units, dispersed, Venice Breakwater flat
November 17: 02F-19, borrow pit integration test, Venice beach cusp
November 19: 02F-20, borrow pit and extended base riser, Venice Breakwater flat
November 21: 02M-8, "Embrace: for Bob Jeffords" two units very close, Breakwater flat
November 24: 02M-9, "Friends, Fare You Well" three units, common base, Jeffords memorial
November 27: 02M-10, "Cooking Thai: for Bert Adams" two units, Venice
November 30: 02M-11, "New Bamboo: Pandemonium" three units, Unit C FAC, Venice

02M-10

2007-03-21T14:04:00.000-07:00

A Filter for Truth

In the early morning the alley is a bustling place. People come and go on high purpose, opening their stores, getting ready for the day. Chill air fills the spaces between buildings but the clear sky promises warmth to come.

"It's open. Come on in."
The big grey cat looks up at me with hope in his eyes. I think I know what he wants, and lean down to pick him up. He settles over my shoulder with a soft purr.
"His paws get cold, and I'm moving too fast for him. Any stationary warm object is fair game, as far as he's concerned."
"I don't mind. He has a nice purr."

"Now, here's what I called you about." Is that a twinkle in his eye?
"Well, umm . . ."
"You were about to say it's the ugliest damn thing you've ever seen, right?"
"Well, umm . . . Let's just say it's not like anything else here."
"I know. Its beauty is in two areas, one proven, one not. I made this in three hours. Your box filter took two days."
"That is beautiful. But . . . that thing looks dangerous."
"Yah. I'd suggest gloves." We both laugh.
"How's it work?"
"I don't know. I called that friend of yours, but he seemed to prefer his old proven technology to this new thing. Mainly because I wouldn't let him use it with your cloth forms."
"Good idea. I guess this means I'll have to be your guinea pig again, right?"
"Let's just say that I had hopes along that line." We laugh again.

Sharp edges abound. Little sharp-ended twists of wire are all over the place; it looks rather like a Medieval torture device.
"Well, today will be a good day to test. The tide is high, and I'll need to use native sand. You know, this cat is heavy!"
"I know. Builds up your back muscles. I should charge you rental to carry him around!"
I put the cat down. He doesn't want to put paw to floor. "Thanks for the screen. I'll let you know."
"I'll eagerly await word."

The first time through for anything is rough. The PVC pipe frame is all right, but the method I used to attach the 0.125" hardware cloth is clumsy. I originally named it the Quick Filter because I hoped it would be quick to build and quick to use. As I look at it the name changes to the Ugly Filter. It sits on the garage floor, waiting. I look at it and think of ways to improve it, but the basic question is about if it works at all.

Experiments have many ways to go awry. The screen could tear away from the frame under the load of that wet sand. The PVC pipe could break; it's brittle stuff. It could be just as obstructive to sand as my existing box filter. One thing is certain: there's no point in planning improvements until I get some experience.

Build number: 02M-10 (lifetime start #257); 2 units on individual riser bases flanking sculpted borrow pit
Title: "Cooking Thai" (for Bert Adams)
Date: November 27
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 0830, construction time 5.5 hours
Unit A: 30 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, immersion screened native sand (Short Form)
Unit B: 30 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, immersion screened low-tide sand (Short Form)
Plan: Unit A on elongated base on east bank of borrow pit. Unit B on elongated base on west bank of borrow pit. Pit shaped to wrap around each piece in a sort of S shape. Bases sloped to fit together.
Helpers: none
Digital Images: 60, with Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich, w/Baggiemat
Video motion: none (camcorder left at home deliberately)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: Quick Filter, 0.125" hardware cloth on PVC pipe box frame

1. Taming the Sand

I made the Quick Filter for Larry Dudock, but its genesis lies in years farther back than the start of our relationship. I started screening sand in 1995, with a simple flat frame and large hardware cloth. The screen failed structurally, and the half-inch holes allowed big shells to sneak through on the diagonal. I tried again with quarter-inch hardware cloth; this gave me better screening but I ran into a new problem: getting the sand to go through the screen. Pouring water on it helped flow the sand through but there was no way to control the water. It ran all over rather than being concentrated on the sand. A further problem was that the quarter-inch holes still allowed fair-size shells through.

OK. Let's think about this. We need finer screening, and we need a way to control the water that's poured through. Some checking reveals that there is such a thing as eighth-inch hardware cloth. That should be fine enough, and if we put it on a box-shaped frame we can drop it into the form and then pour the water in so the sand will come out. Further research reveals one problem: no one has fine hardware cloth. What they do have, however, is heavy-duty window screen with holes roughly one-sixteenth of an inch across. Finer is better, right? We have to use water to get the sand through anyway, right?

I took my roll of window screen home and built a box frame from wood I had around the house. I attached the screen to the outside with a combination of screws, hot glue and cover strips of Masonite. In the summer of 1996 this got its first test.

It didn't go as planned. Getting the sand out of the filter took a lot of water, but I learned to solve that problem by having six inches of water in the form so that I could move the filter around and thereby wash the sand through. This was work but the pile quality was sensational. With sand packed that well, and guaranteed to be free of shells, I could make sections thin and delicate. The last element of the Small Sculpture Revolution was in place.

Years went by. The prototype filter fell apart, destroyed by the rust on its screws but the screen itself never tore, which was the failure I expected. Using what I'd learned I built an improved model.

Fine screens like this have limitations. They're only good on fine sand. When I went to Harrison Hot Springs, and Santa Cruz, my filter simply plugged up. For Venice low-tide sand, however, it worked great. Then I started, for various reasons, using the coarser sand at high tide. The emphasis on these sculptures was speed so I tolerated shells and other junk.

Larry sent me video showing him at work. Yeow, what a hassle. He'd set his flat screen on top of his form, put some sand on it, pour some water on that, then use his gloved hands to push the sand through. Labor. Time. For the one-day beach sand sculptor these must be minimized. There must be a better way.

By this time Mauricio and I had made the Bigfoot Tamper. My planned replacement, which would have been very pretty, would have taken at least a day to make. The Bigfoot took about 14 minutes. That kind of beauty I can appreciate. Naturally, when Larry's screening problems became apparent I started thinking about a PVC-pipe framed filter.

There were problems here, too. The main one was that PVC pipe is designed as a system for plumbing, not for building things. The fittings I wanted didn't exist; I tried several times to find them and then gave it up. Watching Larry work in person one day rekindled the interest. If I can't find the parts I want, how about using the parts I can find?

There it is. I gave first-use rights to Larry, until he balked at my statement that it shouldn't be used with cloth forms. I assumed he'd be using his pool plastic, but he has become a quick convert to the no-hassle sailcloth form, and he demurred on using the new screen. Pretty much on a whim I added what I'd started calling the Ugly Filter to the load on the cart and headed for the beach.

The day is cool, dry and clear. Strong Santa Anas blew yesterday. Anything could happen today; there's a large spreading cloud south of Palos Verdes. I choose a spot and start digging and hauling water.

"I really liked the sculptures you did the other day. Especially the one with the stripes. That was interesting!"
"That was made by a friend of mine. Mine was right behind you, where that hump is." She's one of the people I've seen out here regularly for years, always walking north. I wonder how she gets back south?
"They were still here though. I was surprised."
"That must have been Monday?"
"I don't know." She smiles. "Have fun today, and a good Thanksgiving."
"Thanks. You also." She heads on north. Maybe she takes the bus home.

In all the thinking about screens I never really though very much about the sculpture. I dust off an older idea and plan a two-unit multiple, with one sculpture on each side of the borrow pit, with some sort of earthworks to connect them. After building the first base I put the Short Form on top. Here we go.

Well, what a delight. This validates the original concept: put the filter into the form, throw in some sand, pour on water, shake the screen a couple of times and it's empty. Take it out and tamp. Repeat. After a time not much longer than an unscreened pile would have taken the form is full. I caught some good-sized pebbles in the screen, too. For Unit B I build a base on the west side of the borrow pit. The sculpture is made of sand hauled in from the low-tide line, eight buckets screened. I estimate that screening the sand with this instead of the fine filter takes about half as long as using the fine one. It's also less work because I don't have to pick up the filter when it's loaded. OK. It's quick, but is it effective?

I give Unit A a thorough spraying to counteract the dry breeze and then pick up the Sand Knife to start the shaping. Native sand sculptures are soft and easy to cut. I take a nice big bite and the knife stalls. What's this? I push harder and the cut goes on. The whole pile is like this! Noticeably more solid than usual. I should have guessed; immersion filtering improved the quality of fine sand piles; why wouldn't it work for coarse sand? Native-sand sculpture will never be the same again. I should have built this thing years ago.

There are a few small shells that got through gaps, but no sculpture-breakers. The pile doesn't dry out as quickly as an unscreened on, which also confirms fine-sand experience: the better the pack, the better it retains water. Wow. Another experiment succeeds. What a year this has been. Larry's gonna have to fight me for this item.

2. OK, Fine, the Screen's Great But What About the Sculpture?

Two piles on the beach. One has rough shaping done on one side. With an effort of will I convert myself from a sand-pounding ox to a carver with sensitive fingers.

"Good morning."
"Hi, Tim." He's wearing a wetsuit and his surfboard lies on the sand nearby. "Any ideas of what the weather's doing?"
"Yesterday was really windy. Today there's a storm off Baja, and high pressure over the desert. The wind is supposed to come back in the afternoon. The surfing has been good because of the combination."
"Oh, my. That's trouble for me."
"The sculptures dry out?"
"Yes. Faster than I can spray."
He picks up his board. I turn back to the sculpture. I will have to work fast; between the stormy-looking cloud to the south and the promised winds I may lose the whole thing.

Make it lean a bit. That's good. Now, undercut here a little. This new kind of coarse-sand pile will take it. Cut this away, and this, and slant the top like that. I like the overall shape, kind of blocky but graceful. There are subtle facets that just invite holes; I look over the whole thing and plan entries and exits. Nice simple holes, pleasing shapes fit into the facets.

Inside the sculpture things are different. Surfaces between holes take on interesting shapes. I leave one hole as a rounded hollow, liking the way it looks, but I know Rich will take me to task for that when he gets here. It's a simple piece but I like it. Elegant. Interesting. On to the second unit.

Unit B is just as solid as it would have been with the fine filter. There are some small shells, like Unit A, but no big stuff. I start hacking away, pressed by time. Santa Anas are coming! Carve! Carve!

I want it to have a lean that counters that of Unit A. The tool I have in my hand, the big offset-handle spatula, isn't ideal for the job but I don't want to take time to fetch the Loop Tool. I slice away successive layers.

The result stops me in my tracks. Rough edges slant downward, each progressively farther into the pile. The effect is very interesting. All right. I had no real idea for this piece, so we'll just use this. Clean it up, open the inside, and punch through each level of the slanted layers into the center.

It isn't exactly beautiful, but it is a neat effect. I reshape, and reshape, and reshape again. By this time it's after noon. Where's the wind? Have I been reprieved? No matter. Carve! Shape those pieces. Give them some grace. Fit them with each other.

Once into fast-carve mode it's hard to come out. When Rich comes ambling across the sand, he comments that I'm already cleaning up.
"Well, I have a lot of base work to do also."
"I see."
I turn around and look at the sun. There is plenty of light-time, but there are clouds building above the horizon. And the truth is there just isn't much else to do.

3. One More For Rich

"I do see one place where you forgot a hole."
"And I know exactly where you mean. I intended to leave that the way it is."
"Surely not. It'll catch sunlight."

He knows how to get to me. Let's review the issue. I like the hollow look, but can I keep that and still poke a hole through to the next space? The answer looks to be yes, so I fetch the Steel Finger and cut the hole. An idea hits me.

"I tell you what, Rich. I'll give you two for one." Low on the broad slab that curves up from the base on the north east, I cut a small shaped hole.
"There. How do you like that?"
"Much better."
That'll teach me to try to sneak something past him. He's too observant.

4. And One For Bert

"Actually, I think there more folks that like abstract than you think. Most every sand sculptor I know looks at your website regularly."
" . . . you basically practice like it's a contest. Most folks take it a little bit easier when they are just practicing."
--Bert Adams, Email of 2002 November 26

Bert has enough energy for three people. He organizes contests, teaches people, and now he wants to make a book on sand sculpture. In between all of that he encourages me, especially to go to contests, saying that my work needs to be seen. He especially likes the multiples I've been doing with their complex basal earthworks.

One of these days I'll make it to a contest. I've learned a lot this year about dealing with sub-optimal sand, and the Quick Filter is a new tool in this. Forget the "Ugly Filter" name. The tool has earned my respect. Anyway, I think I could now fill a plot at a contest with a decent sculpture in the alloted time. Thanks for your encouragement, Bert, this sculpture is for you.

5. Clean-up, Twice

Having brushed both sculptures I go to work in the borrow pit, shaping the bases and the sides of the borrow pit so things fit. Unit B's base slopes down toward Unit A, whose base rises from this tail in the borrow pit. The effect isn't what I'd hoped for. I wanted some energy in the base, as if the sculptures were flowing. I still haven't managed to shake off the "hurry up" mode, however, so don't think about this enough. Get it finished, get some images while we have light and sculpture.

After I get images, a full round and various other angles, the pressure is off. The sun is still high.

"it's about 1415."
"Wow. I was quick on this one. There's time to reconsider the base."

I pick up the Loop Tool and the Vertical Roadgrader and sit in the borrow pit. Unit A's base is the problem, but Unit B needs help also. I cut the west side of A's base so that it bulges, with a curving line along the bottom, where it meets the tail of Unit B's base. That needs some fill so I use the waste sand over there to smooth it out into a continuous line.

Unit B also needs more sand on the west, to fill in some hollows. Sand is easy to come by; I drag it up out of the borrow pit and pat it into place. Better. Not perfect, but we are now losing the light due to cloud and it's getting cold without Ralph warming my back.

I like the new result. The base has more energy. Maybe not as much as I wanted, but more. The whole thing moves more now. This requires more photography even if the light is like cement. Too bad I don't have my black-and-white camera.

"I have a concert tonight, so I'll be leaving before sunset. That won't be a problem for you, I see."
"No, this whole thing is walking-based. Simple. What's the concert?"
"Cello and piano."
"Very nice combination."

Tim drives up in his bright yellow truck.
"Very nice."
"Thanks. I like it."
He ambles around the sculpture, then waves and drives off on patrol. Not very many people are in the water today, other than surfers.

"That's it for me."
"OK, Rich. Thanks for your help."
It's not long before I head for home, hungry and cold. Waves boom against the rocks, under clouds reaching east with lacy fingers.

Written November 28

Kindness in Public: 02M-9

2007-03-21T07:58:00.000-07:00

Ephemeral

The neighborhood is quiet. A few thin clouds glow overhead with the day's last light, colors matched by the lights on some of the buildings. I walk the brick street, carrying my long sand tamper, watching people lock their doors and go home for the night.

Lights are still on in the shop. I open the door and two cats walk over the shaving-strewn floor to rub against my bare legs.
"Hi, guys. How are things?"
They give me the usual inscrutable feline look, but seem content to butt my shins with their hard heads as I scratch behind their ears. Two hands, two cats.

"I'll be there in a minute. Make yourself at home."
Good thing he said that. I couldn't move if I wanted to. On the walls are some new photos, including one of a spectacular three-piece sculpture. Each figure is life-size, and its base is little larger than its head. Must have been made with some terrific sand. Beside that are pinned some drawings, sketches of cones, a frustum and a partial ring. Notes are written on them, with lines and angles.
"I see you're finally getting serious about that tapered form."
"Yes." He walks in, wiping dust from him hands. As usual, he's well decorated with fragrant wood shavings.

"OK. What's going on?"
"Look at this." I show him the tamper. Specifically its working end, which is cracked to pieces.
"Oh, my. That's what comes with using parts not designed for the job they're performing."
"Yah, but it did pretty well. Over two years of sculpture. Of course, the bamboo one lasted much longer than that, but the Bigfoot does a better job."
"Well, you're in luck. I have spare parts here. Do you want to rebuild this or start over? I have a section of pipe the right length."

We walk back into the workshop. I've never been back here before; it's smaller than I expected, with simpler tools.
"It really doesn't take much to make things. The drill press is a big help, however."
"Let's make a new one. I'm tired of having that coupling interfere with my grip, and I've never taken it apart."
"Good enough. Now, where did I put those parts?" He starts opening drawers and looking in cubbyholes. "They have to be here somewhere. All together. I learned that the drains vary in thickness, so I chose one that was nice and heavy." He roots around some more. I look around, at scraps of wood and various tools lying haphazardly around the tiny shop. The floor is a combination of sand and shavings.
"Ah. Here's the glue. We're getting close." Clattering, thuds, rustling as he moves things around. "This is what you get for stockpiling parts: they get buried under more recent projects." He opens more drawers. "Ah! Here we are!" He pulls out a drawer, and inside are the necessary drain, couplings and adapter.

"Now, look at how this old grate is dished in. How might we support that better?"
"How about using both grates? Mount the old over the new?"
"In line, or crossways?"
"Crossways, I think. Better support perhaps, and also gets the screws away from each other."
"Good enough. There's no hole below though, so I'll have to drill and tap the new grate for the screws."
"I think the cracks in the old one started when I had to rebuild it. The old screws started to back out, so I replaced them with bigger ones, but I didn't drill the holes big enough."
"You have a bigger problem than that. Look at this." He picks up the old tamper and shows me how the whole periphery of the drain has cracked away from the center. "Major design fault here. You'd think this was designed to be a drain, not a tamper."

He drills the new grate, then taps the holes. More rooting yields some stainless steel flathead machine screws; these are cut to length and used to attach the grates to each other. "Oh, we need a spacer." He finds some washers. "That'll do it. Now we need to attach this assembly to the plastic frame. Without making the same mistake." He drills out the screw holes and then attaches the grate. A small "Tick!" sound indicates that the hole wasn't big enough. "Damn. Hog 'em out some more."

"Wait a minute. How about bolts?" I watch as he dives into cabinet. "Here we are. Bigger than I wanted, but there are nuts to match over here. This way we don't depend upon the plastic for integrity." He drills out the screw holes big enough to pass the long bolt all the way through. A washer and nut go on the end, but the nut doesn't cooperate. "What's wrong here? Threads? Oh, yes, I got these bolts for skateboards. They're 10-24, and the nut is 10-32. Wait! I should have nylock nuts for this. Perfect!" He rushes off and returns in a minute with a small bag.

"Here we are." The grate needs more countersinking. Then he runs the bolts through that and the plastic frame, adding washers and nuts. "This'll work great." Then he attaches the old grate over the new with the cut-off screws into the tapped holes. "Solid. But, you know, we should have bolted the whole thing instead of this tapping fol-de-rol. And we're still going to have that problem of the grate being supported only by the periphery. You need this when?"
"Tomorrow."
"All right. We'll build a more advanced version later. This will get you through." With a file he rounds off the edges of the new grate and knocks any other sharp points.

"Ready for glueing. Bring me that can, would you? And tear off a piece of that paper." The cats have been watching all of this, but as soon as he unscrews the top of the glue can they head for high places.
"Yah. I've never been known for neatness in glueing. Ready?"
"Yes."
"OK. Hold the pipe." He swipes some glue around the end, and then more on the inside of the adapter piece. "Now. Push it in there. It should go easily." I do so, to where it stops. "Good. Now, hold onto that." He puts glue on the outside of the adapter and the inside of the drain. I push them together to the stop.
"Done! The next one will be quicker and simpler. Let me know if it really is doubly great."
"I will. Thanks for your help." We shake hands.

A low silver moon throws long shadows from the buildings. A few people are still walking about, and music comes from somewhere. New tamper over my shoulder I walk on home. Its first use will be for a special sculpture.

"Larry, Bob Jeffords passed away this week, losing a battle with cancer. As you may remember, Bob was a great fan of your sculptures, helped you with a few and a big fan of Venice beach (and resident). There will be a beach memorial this Sunday the 24th north of the pier at the blowhole. I was thinking it would be fantastic to have one of your sculptures at that spot for the service."

Build number: 02M-9 (lifetime start #256); 3 units integrated within base, earthworks and borrow pit
Title: "Friends, Fare You Well!"
Date: November 24
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 1000, construction time 5.5 hours
Unit A: 32 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, unfiltered native sand (Short Form)
Unit B: 31 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, unfiltered native sand (Short Form)
Unit C: 30 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, unfiltered native sand (Short Form)
Plan: Unit A on elongated 12 inch tall riser with spurs between borrow pits. Unit B on lower pad northeast of A, within curving spurs. Unit C on bottom of west borrow pit. Plot approximately 10 feet by 10 feet.
Helpers: none
Digital Images: 40, with Canon Powershot G2 (includes 3 of Larry's 02-K in process)
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: none
Video motion: none (camcorder left at home deliberately)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: Replacement Bigfoot Tamper, double-grate version

Now the winter winds blow cold
Upon a fair and gentle soul
And she feels as if her time is passin' easy.
--Dan Fogelberg, "Go Down Easy"

1. Wrestling

At the ends of the tide's movement periods are the "stands," when the rate of change is near zero. At the high stand how far the waves will go is dictated by how much energy they carry and what previous waves did. A big wave after a small one goes farther because the bigger one has less backwash resisting its motion. If the tide is at the stand and you have your back to the ocean, start worrying when things get quiet.

I was at the Breakwater Saturday night looking things over. The surf was quiet. This has changed by Sunday morning; as I walk down the gentle hill on Rose Avenue I can see boomers rising to hammer the beach. The tide is approaching its morning high.

On days like this I used to come down the day before and haul sand from the low-tide line to some point above the morning high but there have been problems with this technique recently. I've decided to simplify the process and use what sand is available at the high-tide line.

This involves choosing where the high-tide line is. That booming surf changes everything: more power, more variability. The surfers love it, though. Coincidentally, Larry Dudock is here too; his buckets have been stolen overnight from his sand cache. I stand out on the flat watching the water patterns. Of course, this does little good. Somehow King Neptune likes to guard his sand as if it were the Crown Jewels, and as soon as I start to dig the whole site is repeatedly inundated. This takes real brains: building things out of sand in the middle of running water. Some of the grains go back and forth so many times they have a first-name relationship with my shovel.

Finally the tide begins to turn. Then it gets quiet, and after that a huge wave washes in, taking six inches off the side of my base. Wait for it. Yah, here comes its follower; there are always two. After that I riprap the pile with seaweed, which of course causes Neptune to laugh and give up. No more big waves hit, just a few love pats just when they're not needed. Well after the tide has turned, water is still getting into the borrow pit where, on a whim, I decided to put a third sculpture.

This is something I'd been thinking about. A sculpture in a hole? Why? Vertical variation, a full-size sculpture with its lower third hidden. I just hope the beach drains soon enough for me to carve that piece; time is rushing. I have to be finished by 1600.

It's a nice assignment, but it's still an assignment. Finish it on time and make sure it's still standing at the end of the day. Here I'm dealing with coarse sand that really doesn't want to stand up like this, and it dries out rapidly. The benefit of a multi-part sculpture is that the components can be simpler and then combine in complex ways, with light and shadow and space providing the links.

At least that's the way I hope it will work out. Assignments. I'm worried. I've been thinking about this sculpture ever since I got the Email. Ideas flit through my mind to quickly for any to perch and present themselves for consideration. What will I do? This thing has to be good. Command performance. What if I bomb?

2. Remember

"You are not an ox; YOU ARE AN ARTIST, regardless of limitations you work under."
--Bob Jeffords, Email of 2002 July 14 [emphasis in original]

The only certainty is that there is no longer any time for worrying. I give Units A and B--C is still sitting in water--a last spraying and pick up the #1 Loop Tool. When in doubt, use the Loop Tool because it will do almost anything.

Consider the sculpture as a T plan. Units A and B make up the crossbar, with C in its hole holding down the bottom of the T. I link A and B with a long continuous curve from A's top to the base of B. Further work makes this into a gently concave bowl on whose edge B rises in a mirrored concave.

The sculpture is coming from an idea I've been thinking about for a few months: two inward-leaning sculptures, with a symmetric sculpture in the middle that matches the others. I don't much care for symmetry, preferring balance, so the idea was shelved. Here it is, however, in a format that will work. Burying the middle sculpture and moving it outward removes the symmetry while preserving balance, and makes the matching curves less obvious. People will have to work at viewing this one.

Sand sculpture is strange. Packing sand is an ox's work and there's no substitute for this. Do it right, the sculpture at least has a chance of holding up. Make a mistake and the dream comes down, but if there's no dream the ox might as well stay home. Now the ox's strength and persistence must give way to a hummingbird's touch directly linking eye and hand. What guides the hand? What makes this worthwhile? Make all the fancy words you want. It's actually simple. Feeling. Sand allows expression that can't be done any other way. External feeling of sand under fingertips, internal feelings driving the process. Quit thinking. Carve.

Unit A looks rather slabby. I cut a long narrow slot--narrow because the sand is weak--from top to bottom and then start two holes, leaving a thick septum between to help hold it together. On the sunlit side I cut another slot, shaping its edges carefully, and drill through to the other openings. It's beginning to flow.

At the top I cut two small circular holes. These relieve the unbroken surface. They're echoed in a larger circular hole I cut into the side of Unit B, where it will be visible from some angles. The other holes in A are also echoed in B, but with changes. B is shorter, with a broad top larger than its base. The key is balance and I trim the piece to keep it from looking too topheavy or clumsy.

Time is pressing. Finally all the water is gone from Unit C's base; I have to use the shovel to dig the form out of the sand that washed in on King Neptune's little tokens of appreciation. The column holds.

This one is to be simple: two leaves leaning against each other. The engineering is easy, which is good because the base of this piece is still very wet and soft. It tapers in two tense curves, with a large space between.

Rudy and his wife stop by, but they don't stay long. They can tell I'm not really with them. The flute player I met a few days ago has the same experience; I'd like to chat, but I just have to keep working. This has made me more irritable than usual; I give only short answers to passersby and keep my head down. There's one thing only: to make a sculpture.

Unit C is too simple. It's lost in its hole. A series of small holes in the south, sunlit, side helps the sculpture stand out, and I continue the pattern into the inside in corrugations that come all the way to the sunlit edge of the south leaf. It seems overdone but it's too late to change. This piece is short; perhaps the Baroque edge will help it to compete with its larger companions.

Access is difficult. I have to step carefully and make sure I know where my arms are when I turn, or a sculpture will go flying. Watch those elbows.

At this time of year the day looks like permanent afternoon. My perceptions are still carried over from summer and the light fools me into rushing even more. Sunset is imminent! Hurry! Get this thing cleaned up! I look over and see Larry sitting down, eating something. What's he think this is? A picnic? Maybe my thought is born of envy.

A man shows up with some chairs. It's not just the chairs that tell me he's here for the memorial. Something about him is different, doesn't fit the beach model. Purpose? Forget it. Finish the sculpture. Brush carefully, rub out the carving marks, brush again. Use the little brush to push the crumbs out of the small holes. Rub some grooves down from the holes in Unit C to give the broad curving side more texture; this has turned into a subtly complex sculpture.

Carve the base and borrow pit sides. Shape these broad surfaces into uniting curves using waste sand; Rich and Bob aren't here to haul it away. From the sculpture's center I work outward, brushing away hand and footprints, randomizing the loose sand so the smooth sculptures will stand out.

Well, that's it. The best I have time to do. Somehow it came together, ox and artist collaborating again and getting it done on time. I look at the sun and guess it to be about 1515; a passerby tells me it's a good guess, but actually 1500. The pressure suddenly leaves. Done. And the more I look at the sculpture, the more I like it. Even that Baroque edge on Unit C works; it's just irritating enough to be noticed, but not unattractive, and it helps draw attention to the small piece.

Making a sculpture like this is a process nearly invisible. I have no idea what the whole piece looks like until it's finished and there's time to walk around; I can only trust the hands and experience. Consideration is something reserved for longer days, or simpler sculptures.

I do final site clean-up and trash removal, and then get my camera. The "canonical" view requires lying on my stomach so that the top part of Unit C pokes up between A and B, but there are lots of other good angles in late afternoon light that, while it doesn't have the laser directness of a few days ago, hasn't gone soft with vapor yet.

3. Cold Peace

"His was a gentle passing. There was no pain. You could feel the love filling the room. Truly, he was surrounded by it."
--Bj Cotton-Jeffords, Email of 2002 November 20

Youth spends its time trying to look like everyone else without being obvious about it. Bob's friends are individuals with a wide distribution of ages. They greet each other with hugs and handshakes, and ever more of them join the milling group on the cooling isthmus. The light softly illuminates animated faces, expressions and eyes.

I talk for a few minutes with Brad, the fellow who invited me to this event. As ever more people gather I begin to feel as if I'm in entirely the wrong place. I fit in here about as well as the janitor at the president's meeting. Roles come from within and I can't shake this. I'm hired help, producer of the backdrop.

More people come, and yet more. There must be over 100 gathered by the time a few walk through the group distributing the order of service. I look this over and find there will be a "talking stick" period, where the stick passes in turn to people who want to speak.

The memorial service starts with Cat Stevens' "Morning Has Broken." Our voices have to compete with the surf that is still booming against the rocks under the sun that's not long from setting. It provides little warmth against the damp steady breeze pushing sailboats homeward.

I remember Mary's father passing. Friends and family gathered in a church and told their favorite stories, a final celebration of a long life. A man who's obviously a preacher speaks for a few minutes, and then Bj gets up to explain the talking stick. In this case, it's an antelope antler, and she asks for volunteers. No one raises a hand. All right, the janitor will speak. I raise my hand and she hands the stick to me.

"My name is Larry Nelson. I met Bob here earlier this year when I was making a sculpture; after that he came out several times to help. He'd show up and say "OK, Larry, what do you want me to do?" I speak loudly to get past the surf. "One day he was here while I was trying to finish a sculpture, a three-part multiple like this one, before the tide came in. I asked him and my friend Rich to haul away the waste sand. We all worked like demons to get finished, and we did it. We all had fun and it was a very good day." I look around, find a raised hand and pass the talking stick on. The ice has been broken.

Many people speak. Many of them I can't hear; they speak softly, or are facing the wrong way. Everyone listens as best they can. One man's voice breaks up under tears. Another reads between wiping his eyes.

"I worked with Bob on 'Logan's Run.' He was the production manager, and hired me. We had a meeting. I asked him what he wanted me to do.
'I want you to be production manager.'
'But, Bob, you're the production manager!'
'I know. My last act is to hire you. Your first act is to fire me. I'm tired of office work.'
So, he hired me and I fired him. That's how I became production manager on 'Logan's Run.'"

"I also worked on 'Logan's Run.' I went to Bob one day on the set and asked him how to get the stage crew to work with me. He said 'Treat them with respect. Meet them, listen to them, learn from them. They're important.' I've remembered that ever since."

More people. More stories. More love than I've seen in a long time. A very long time. It's like being dumped into a foreign country; I recognize what's going on but it's not my land.

The sun has set. Soft light suffuses the sky with indescribably subtle colors over the sea's steel glare. For some reason this feels to me like a farewell statement from Bob. A few more people speak, and then the preacher leads more singing. He turns out to be the current pastor of Bob's church, and the former pastor is also there. The service ends in silence on sand whose color is beginning to match the sky's, and the group starts to break up.

I'm shivering. No time to eat, not prepared for the post-sunset cool. Movement should help. I gather my equipment and make sure everything is strapped onto the cart. I'd like to go to the reception at the church, but what would I do with all this equipment? Besides, I wouldn't belong. What would I say to any of these people?

I turn away and walk north under through the glowing air. Half a mile of walking as briskly as my tired body can stops the shivering but the loneliness goes on. Ah, forget it. Circles overlap and then change. Walk. See what comes next.

4. Tools

"I intended to send you an email the other day to say how much I enjoyed the time working with you and the chat. And that I'd be delighted to do it again."
--Bob Jeffords, Email of 2002 July 14

Well, I may still look over my shoulder to see if Bob is coming, but it won't happen. He was one of the few I always looked forward to seeing walking along the beach. Nothing lasts forever.

"How'd it work out?" His cats observe me from their warm cabinet-top perches.
"Just fine. It's heavier. Hits plenty hard, but didn't do any better job of packing than the old one."
"OK. We can go back to the lighter-weight single grate. I think I've figured out a couple of ways to keep it from breaking up, too. What do you think about this?" He draws a picture.
"That should work, if we can get the pipe to go just that far. How about some sort of reinforcing ring here?"
"That would work, but how're you gonna make that ring? You think this is a machine shop?" He smiles.
"What, no CNC machine?"
"I just got electricity last week. Give me a break." We laugh. Life goes on, with all of its developments.

Started November 24
Completed November 25
Edited and amended November 26

Memorial to Kindness: 02M-8

2007-03-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

Connections

Everyone comes to the beach, and they tend to coalesce around any unusual activity. Whether it involves film-making, fishing, exercise or sand sculpture people come as moths to a flame.

Most of them pause for a moment and then walk on. Some ask a question or two, are satisfied and then leave. A few stop and watch, and a small subset of this group, after they've watched for a time, ask good questions and actually listen to the reply.

It takes time to establish a connection. Repeated sculptures, repeated visits, and I look forward to these. Unfortunately, Bob Jeffords, willing helper and conversationalist, will no longer be there. We'd barely started a relationship, but I've missed him in the last few outings. Now I know why.

The sun still shines, the waves still end their journey against slanting sand. I still walk and design still comes from memory and transcends engineering. Roman in 1994, now Bob. It's a familiar process driven farther.

Build number: 02M-8 (lifetime start #255); 2-unit tight multiple on common base with borrow pit earthworks
Title: "Embrace: for Bob Jeffords"
Date: November 21
Location: Venice Breakwater, on beach cusp just south of pipe
Start: 0900, construction time 6.5 hours
Unit A: 30 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, unfiltered native sand (Short Form)
Unit B: 30 inches tall, 19 inches diameter, filtered imported sand (Short Form)
Plan:
Unit A on elongated 10 inch tall riser with spurs beside borrow pit.
Unit B on lower pad north of A, installed after A had been carved to
rough shape to make room. Approx 20 inches on center. Plot
approximately 8 feet by 12 feet.
Helpers: none
Digital Images: 49, with Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: none
Video motion: none (camcorder left at home deliberately)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: none

1. Planning

I'd been thinking about the plan for this piece for a couple of days. If dispersed multiples don't work all that well, how about a really close one? The idea evolves into a smooth slab, angled so as to catch sunlight and reflect it into the inside of a hollow sculpture with many small holes in its shell. It seems interesting. Fortunately I forgetn how many times I've failed at even coming close to getting sunset light into even a monolithic sculpture.

When the message comes in from Bj about Bob's passing, the design stays the same but the feeling changes. I walk to the beach remembering his help, and the way I looked forward to seeing him walking across the beach toward my work site. My favorite memory is of Bob and Rich laboring to haul away the waste sand I was generating in great quantities on my first "private" multiple, three frenzied people trying to finish the sculpture before the ocean reclaimed the site. We all had fun, and with their help 02M-2 turned into a very nice sculpture.

Today's is both simpler and more complex. Rather than three piles, this one will use two. They have to be positioned with accuracy, however, and I'm going to have to carve the first before I can place the second because of the narrow spacing. Call it a "serial multiple."

2. Basic Execution

The tide is at its high stand. This is good because I won't have to carry water for building the base to the height needed. Just start digging, piling sand, and when a wave comes in, stomp on the sand to pack it. On any big project efficiency pays big dividends. By the time the tide leaves me alone, somewhat reluctantly it seems, the base is tall enough.

The short form goes on top. This sculpture will be simple, so I planned it to use native sand; its lighter color will also help in illuminating the second piece. Filling the form doesn't take long with all the materials right there.

There's no real hurry in the carving. This needs to take long enough that the tide will drop to reveal the better sand, so I have time to shape the broad face concave in both axes, like part of a sphere.

Tim comes down to take a look.
"The plan is to get light reflected from this face."
"Well, the sun should set right about there." He points. "Through that low point."
"That's about what I expected." There's nothing like familiarity with the area.

Should I make this thing textured? Vertical ribs, maybe, to contrast with the curves and horizontal parts of the second sculpture? No, I'll leave it smooth. How about holes? This is more tempting; I could go in on the south and come out to the northeast, but no light would get in there, and I like the current simplicity. Leave it. Rich will kill me when he gets wind of this. A solid sculpture. The first I've ever made.

The day is warm and dry, with a fitful offshore breeze. It could go either way: develop into full-on Santa Ana, or turn around and come from the sea. Either way I have to spray frequently to keep Unit A from crumbling. Its coarse sand doesn't retain water very well.

I now have room to prepare the base for Unit B, the complex piece. After that's finished the tide is still fairly high but I decide to try for some good sand.

This requires digging deep. There is good sand, under about a foot of coarse sand. Gargh. The beach is saturated, so when the borrow pit gets that deep the walls turn to liquid and run into it so I have to dig fast to get the fine sand before it's buried again. I manage to get two bucketfuls before the whole thing collapses. By the time I've processed that load the tide has receded so I try a lower place to dig. Just as I get the overburden stripped off, a big wave comes in and fills the whole borrow pit. Useless. Start over, a bit higher. This time I manage to get three buckets before the walls come in, encouraged by a little gift from King Neptune.

Shells are the bane of thin-section sculpture. Each load of sand run into the form through my filter nets a collection of rough items I'm glad to get rid of, but what a lot of work this is. I've been spoiled by recent unfiltered sculptures.

Higher on the beach there's more overburden to remove. Lower on the beach I'm likely to lose it all to incoming waves. Choices and gambling, betting my knowledge against the ocean's chances. Eventually I get all the sand I need.

A new problem announces itself with clattering from my Bigfoot Tamper. Close examination reveals cracks all through the plastic periphery of the drain that makes up its working end. Time for a replacement, or reconstruction. It hangs together long enough to finish this piece. It lasted two and a half years, with one rebuilding. Not bad for a tool that took 15 minutes to make.

While waiting for the excess water to drain from Unit B I spray the other sculpture. We're finally getting some sea wind but it's still dry. I also fill all the buckets with water so I won't have to go away while working on the fragile piece. After the utility tasks I remove the form very carefully so as not to damage the first sculpture. I don't want to damage that smooth face. Now we're ready for the main event, and a good thing. The short winter day is pressing.

3. Shaping

Assuming I have the tall reflecting face oriented properly, how should I carve this piece to take advantage of it? The design is a compromise between perfect light-collecting alignment and room for me to work. I carve this face so that it leans toward the reflector, with its center of curvature well below the reflector's. The effect is surprisingly strong, given that what has been shaped is empty space.

In order to carve the sand out of the sculpture's center I have to lie down on the base and reach around. There's barely room for my head to peek around to see where the tool is working as I awkwardly carve, so I alternate inside and outside carving so as to keep track of how thin the walls are. Cutting guide holes through the shell is the one sure way to know where I am, but that means I have to decide on what shape these holes should be.

In previous hollow sculptures I've been disappointed with the design of the shell's spaces. I want to do better. The shell has had a nice shape but the openings have been too predictable. So I pick up a tool and just start carving. The result is a line with a sharp corner; this will be impossible to support, but I'm committed now. I'll have to leave some sand inside to hold it up. The rest of the design grows from this interesting start, and gains detail.

There's a subtle difference between a shell-with-openings, and arabesque designs that make it look more like an assembled piece. This one combines aspects of both. It has a "shell sculpture's" strong overall shape, but I've shaped the sand around the openings to make them flow around and into other parts.

Andrew, the popsicle man, walks by with his cooler.
"Hi. Nice to see you again."
"How are things?"
"Pretty slow today. Was it warmer earlier?"
"Somewhat. Not that many people, however."
"What kind of popsicle would you like?"
"Strawberry. Thank you. I'm very light on food today." Zone bars just don't last very long.
"You're welcome. Thanks for sharing your art." He walks on north.

The shaded side of Unit B gets most of the holes. For contrast I put only two simple holes in the sunlit side, leaving the rest of it smoothly rounded. About an hour before sunset I call it good and start the clean-up. This includes contouring the base and borrow pit.

4. Lighting

I've watched the shadows change as the sun followed its winter course. The signs look good. I finish cleaning the sculpture up and shaping the base's spurs. My signature goes on the south side where it will be less intrusive.

I walk around. The sculpture's various light-dependent experiments work so well that a passerby could think I did it casually. Amazing. Light hits the big reflector panel and fills the inside of the second piece with a soft glow. Ralph is cooperating by staying bright, just gradually turning reddish as he approaches the horizon.

The design experiments work well too. The curves of the reflector and the south edges of the shell fit very nicely, making a tense space between them: they are tied but apart. Never has the planned part of a sculpture worked so well.

As is usual on these days, the sun's westward racing seems to slow down as soon as I finish the sculpture. i stand on the cooling sand and talk with a passerby who's also interested in the changing light. We talk of design, food and his bus-train-bus ordeal of reaching the beach. Shadows gradually lengthen as the light passes from gold through orange to red.

This sculpture is a good argument for doing multiples. The two sculptures cast interesting shadows that play with each other, accenting the bright vertical areas. Line and shade link across space. The sculptures' designs are wildly different but they still belong to each other. What bonds them? What bonds people? Whatever it is, it's as invisible as the space between these two, and as strong. Decision, skill, desire, keep trying, work at it. Do it while you can.

5. Sunset

I shoot more pictures as the light fades. Lovely. I scan the sky, looking at the few thin clouds, and miss George's wave.
"I feel hurt. Again."
"I didn't even see you." He runs around in circles, looking at the sculpture.
"I feel like a police helicopter. I'm going to run on south; I have some pizza. Can I stop by?"
"Sure. You'll probably pass me on your way back north."
"Yes. I have to keep moving because I need to call Wabbit Wepair to find out how they're doing with my car."
"OK. See you there." He heads on south, running gracefully.

The sun has gone over the horizon but a liquid line of red fire still hangs on. The air is nearly still, slowly bringing layers of thin mist in over the city. The last spark goes out. Perfect light for black-and-white photography.

Tired and hungry, I pack the equipment back onto the cart and amble north. Just put one foot in front of the other. I miss the dolphins one couple tells me about, under the sky in bands of blue, green and red. The colors reflect on the sheets of water from receding waves. Beautiful.

George isn't there by the time I finally get home over the hill. So, I go to work on dinner. This turns out to be a good thing as the promised pizza turns out to be five small pieces. We sit on the porch, me with a bowl of my quick lamb stew and him with cold pizza. With beer and chocolate, under the gentle glow of my Christmas lights and a few bright stars.

Written November 22
Rewritten and amended Nov 23

02F-20

2007-03-18T17:22:00.000-07:00

Presence

"It's all flat here."
"That's why I like to work here. It makes a good stage."

Behind me waves pound the breakwater. Long shadows stretch out over the flat golden sand. The sculpture's curving western face burns, accented by the dark borrow pit at its foot.

Staging. I tell myself it's just for photography but there's more to it. A great sculpture is enhanced by good placement. It's a rather surprising viewpoint for a man who prefers being in the background, but I always choose a place for my sculptures that allows them to dominate the space around them. If such space isn't available, I'll make it, using a tall base or some other trick.

Make the sculpture visible. Make it impossible to ignore. Find the center. Maybe it's desire's long shadow reaching from childhood.

Build number: 02F-20 (lifetime start #254) Monolith, unfiltered imported sand, on extended riser base with borrow pit earthworks
Title: none
Date: November 19 (Tuesday)
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 1145; construction time approx 4 hours
Height: 2.6 feet (Short Form w/free-piled extension) on top of 10 inch riser
Base: 1.6 feet diameter, form; riser and borrow pit about 6 X 15 feet
Assistant: none
Photo digital: 25 images, Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer:
Video motion: none (camcorder not brought)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: none

The quick decision takes about three minutes to implement because the right selection of tools is already loaded on the cart in the garage. Sunlight pours out of a blue sky. It feels more like September and I work up a sweat climbing the hill toward the beach.

Sunday's borrow pit experiment wasn't all that successful. The sculpture, on its tall riser, was impressive. The combined riser and borrow pit, however, made a broad face of sand that didn't contribute much to the sculpture other than height. I'd like to get more out of it. Try harder.

Sand has built up behind the Breakwater, almost burying the storm drain all the way to the valve box. The morning's high tide has left a broad, smooth area just perfect for a sculpture. The area is already occupied by a family but it's mine. I fetch a load of water and then start digging; the family soon moves off.

Sunday's problem was partly that the borrow pit's shape wasn't interesting. For today's sculpture I plan to dig a horseshoe-shaped pit and put the sculpture on the inside, on a tall base that will taper away. It's easy to build, and labor-intensive. I hope it's worth it.

The sculpture sand comes from the same area I got half of Sunday's. It's under some overburden but I'm tired of that coarse stuff. Carving fine sand is more enjoyable because it will hold more of a vision. The 250-foot haul goes easily with the cart. Unfortunately this sand has more detritus in it than I had on Sunday and I have no filter.

Call it an hour to end up with a carvable block of sand, and its base. I fetch another load of water to use for spraying and then peel the pile. It's solid. Good stuff, attractively marbled. Except for the shells.

The idea is to make a nice curve all the way from the borrow pit up to the sculpture's top, like a wave about to break. The back side will take on a similar curve, with the objective of making the sculpture appear to be leaning into the setting sun. The problem is that the sculpture is too far back from the borrow pit, leaving too long a "front porch," so I have to cut the curve somewhat short. There's still enough base to make a smooth transition.

The sun rolls across the sky. Shadows lengthen. Waste sand piles up as I hollow the sculpture out and add detail. Passersby stop to ask the usual questions. Tim, the lifeguard, drives past to take a look. Another lifeguard, recently moved up here from Redondo, asks about what I'm doing. I know he's new because he hasn't heard of me.

The sculpture's north and south sides are full-height slightly curved slabs. I leave the south one alone, but the north one begs for some ventilation, even without Rich here to campaign for holes. After that it's pretty well finished. Brushing takes some time and the day is getting seriously short. At least this time I remembered to bring the brush.

After that I work on the base. One problem with using imported sand is that all the waste collects in the borrow pit, filling it in. I haul two cartloads around to the east and use them to build up the base's eastern extension, smoothing the rest of what's in the pit. Then I shape the base, smoothing out my footprints.

Call it good. Start photographing in that sharp sunset light. It's amazing. Sun bright all the way to the horizon. I walk around, looking for angles.

The integration of sculpture, base and borrow pit has worked well. The base could have used more work, but base design is turning out to be more difficult than I expected. An overly dramatic base distracts from the sculpture, but a big bland base also distracts. This one is, at least, better matched than Sunday's.

The sculpture itself is too blocky, and the spaces don't allow enough light to get through to the shadowed side. Still, it's interesting, and almost anything is beautiful in this light. Many passersby like it.

One man has been exercising with a staff. He catches sight of the sculpture and wanders over to take a look. His staff has holes.
"Is that a flute?"
In answer he hands it to me. It is indeed, long bamboo polished and stained, with holes. He introduces himself with some polysyllabic name, and then plays on the flute as the sun goes down. Lovely.

A line of liquid light stays on the horizon long after the sun should have set. Finally the last little spark-bead disappears. Catalina is dark on the horizon; usually at this time of evening water vapor softens the dark silhouette to light grey. Tonight it's as if there's nothing between the mountains and me.

I bid the flautist good night and walk north under that depthless sky. Faint fog rolls lazily over the beach, visible only in the foreshortened concentration of distance.

Written November 20

02F-19

2007-03-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

Walking is Better than Waiting

Once again the phone gives no evidence of a message. I'd called Mauricio last night, wondering if the planned bike ride was a go. Well, I'll take no word as a "no."

I've been thinking intensively about multiple sculptures and what might make them work better. One idea is to make the sculptures and borrow pit more tightly integrated. As usual there's only one way to find out, and the plan crystalizes around Larry Dudock's call from the beach.

He's finally doing what he came out here for. Sand sculpture in November. His New York venue would have been shut down by cold. A momentous day. I might as well join in.

Build number: 02F-19 (lifetime start #253) Monolith, unfiltered sand, half native and half imported, on tall riser base with borrow pit earthworks; test for planned multiple
Title: none
Date: November 17 (Sunday)
Location: Venice Breakwater, south side cusp
Start: 1145; construction time approx 4 hours
Height: 2.5 feet (Short Form) on top of 9 inch riser
Base: 1.6 feet diameter, form; riser and borrow pit about 6 X 6 feet
Assistant: none
Photo digital: 28 images, Canon Powershot G2 (includes Larry D's sculpture)
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Larry
Video motion: none (camcorder not brought)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: Larry (walkaround)
New Equipment: none

The plan is to free-pile this piece. Make it small and quick. I load the short form onto the cart along with the necessary buckets, just in case, and then start walking.

Sunday, around noon. There are lots of folks on the street, and many of them look at my cart. Those orange wheels really get attention. I tell them about the Roleez Web site and keep walking. The day is cool, sunny, almost no wind. A full ring of light surrounds the sun.

Larry is invisible until I'm nearly on top of him. He's chosen to build just above this morning's high tide, which puts him in a low area behind the beach's cusp. He's hauling a load of water as I walk up; his form is about two-thirds full, and there's equipment all over the place. Construction zone. I know it well.

The sand is bad everywhere. Well, take that back. There's some decent sand under about five inches of very coarse material in one place, but the rest is no better than what's up high. Free-piling is out; I'm glad I brought a form. I start digging right at the cusp, planning to use the beach's slope below the cusp as part of the sculpture.

I want to experiment with integrating the sculpture with the borrow pit. Beauty has been elusive in this so testing is in order. I build a tall base and pile more sand alond the lip of the borrow pit, then place the form on the tallest section. Filling goes quickly until I decide, ever the idealist, to look for better sand. Sample pits lead me to the same place as earlier, so I remove the overburden and dig up four bucketfuls of the better sand. This fills the form to the top.

Now what? Well, the idea is to carve the sculpture's overall shape to fit the borrow pit. I start, as a woman and her daughter look on, with a long concave face from the top of the pile all the way down to the borrow pit's bottom.
"Why are you doing that?"
The daughter has a rather fierce and unapproving look. "It's an experiment. I want the sculpture to continue into this hole."

I carve the other surfaces to fit, and the shape, although blocky, is nice. The top half is considerably darker, and it's stronger. I reserve the details for that part, carving some narrow slits that connect with a large internal hollow. Various other tricks bring out some detail, as the sun goes west and thin clouds come in. The result is far from graceful, a rather awkward mix of the multiple's simple forms and the monolith's detail.

The passersby like it, and it is well sited. Larry's sculpture is nearly invisible because it's back on a low point. Mine is on a stage, up front, commanding the beach. Location. His should be up here too.

The borrow pit is just a smooth-sided bowl. It isn't very interesting. Maybe I can do better by carving away some of the sand and bringing the sculpture down into the pit. We're losing the light so I carve quickly. The addition almost helps, but makes the sculpture look a lot like a fish standing on its tail. Unfortunate, but there's no time for further experimentation. Ignore the tail part and the design is improved.

The western sky is burning red, with tendrils of gold reaching overhead. A nearly full moon is rising over the sculptures. Damp breezes leave moisture on my tools and slowly pushes sailboats back to the Marina.

"Congratulations on your first official Venice sculpture, Larry."
"Thank you."
He continues photographing as I pack up and head north.

Written November 17

02M-7

2007-03-18T14:50:00.000-07:00

Choose!

Bike ride? I want to explore Point Mugu State Park, but just don't care for the drive right now. Besides that, there are more experiments that need to be done with the multiple sculpture idea.

I must be nuts. I'm still post-sculptural from the last one.

Build number: 02M-7 (lifetime start #252); 3-unit formed unfiltered native sand distributed multiple sculpture with borrow pit earthworks
Title: none
Date: November 15
Location: Venice Breakwater, just south of pipe
Start: 0715, construction time 8 hours
Unit A size: 42 inches tall, 21 inches nom diameter ellipsoid prism (Latchform)
Unit B size: 30 inches tall, 19 inches diameter cylinder (Short Form)
Unit C size: 28 inches tall, 19 inches diameter cylinder (Short Form)
Plan: Unit A on elongated riser beside borrow pit, in half-circle of kelp.
Units B and C 25 feet west of Unit A, sharing borrow pit and base design. Unit B on shaped riser south of borrow pit. Unit C also on shaped riser, 9 feet north of B, on north side of borrow pit.
Helpers: none
Digital Images: 51, with Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none (LX w/zoom and Fuji Acros available, no energy; light better for color)
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich, w/Canon Z115 (process and completed)
Video motion: none (camcorder left at home deliberately)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: none

1. Distributing Energy

Timing is critical. Given the amount of energy a multiple requires, every little bit saved is a good thing. I arrive as the tide is just revealing a higher spot on the beach, made by a C-shaped windrow of kelp. I start building a base here for the first sculpture. A few more vigorous waves contest the location, but the moon has its way and by the time I set the Latchform on its base the area is no longer inundated.

The multiple-pile sand sculpture isn't a new idea. Basic economics led competing sand sculptors to plan their plot-filling constructions so that they could be built with several individual piles rather than one huge block of sand. The latter would be more versatile, but impossibly labor-intensive. Imagine packing a 20-foot by 20-foot plot eight feet deep in sand, and then forget it. No, you have to put tall formed piles only where the design requires.

Usually these sculptures are designed as one piece. Several piles united in one story, speaking with one voice. My interest is different. I want each of my sculptures to tell its own story, and then somehow unite those individual stories into one larger story. Instead of one big singer, a choir.

By the time the form is full, a nice flat area about 25 feet away is just being revealed. I make a riser on the south edge of the borrow pit, and then set up the Short form. Filling it takes a few minutes; while the excess water drains, I make a new riser on the north edge of the borrow pit. The pit slants between the two bases. I reuse the Short Form on the northern base and use the last of the water caught in the borrow pit to fill the form. In about two hours, the three piles are finished. I want to make a fourth one, farther away, but reality faces me squarely and says "Forget it."

It's hot. The wind puffs back and forth, never really settling.

I'm tired. The first sculpture goes well, with planes aimed at the other two sculptures, in hopes of tying them together. I plan to continue this pattern in the other two pieces: some facets very similar, but the rest of the design unique. I also try a little trick: at the top of Unit B's western face I cut a small flat-bottomed hole that looks as if it will give a view of Unit A. Anyone tempted to look for this will find, however, that the space has a dogleg in it and only a sliver of daylight can be seen.

Unit C is a little more confused; my ability to envision is becoming very fuzzy. I do remember the fake viewport, matching in mirror image the one in Unit B. Then this one develops a variation in another exit port that also misses the view of Unit A.

Unit A, when I get around to it, turns into a complete sport, sharing very little design with the other sculptures. It's so far away that this doesn't really matter.

I've ended up with a choir whose two members get along pretty well with each other. Off in the distance is a soloist pretty much doing her own thing. The connection is very tenuous, amounting to rough proximity and the same color. Soloist it is, on its own, but at least it's singing in a similar style.

2. Finish Twice

Rich feeds me lemon cookies, which are about all that hold me together. I've run out of muffins. Mirjam's grapes probably would have been better, but I had no fruit that would have survived transport to the beach.

I clean up the borrow pit between B and C, randomizing its bottom and smoothing the edges, and then shape the sculptures' bases to fit. The whole area is drying out under the uncharacteristic heat. This is mid-November, and I'm sweating! I take the radical step of spraying the bases and borrow pit to keep the sand dark, so it will contrast with the surroundings.

Unit A is easier to clean up. Its base ends up looking like the long side of a football embedded in the beach, with the sculpture on top. i'm too tired to change it. B and C look better, linked by the borrow pit between them. I shoot a round of photos, stumbling around, hoping to get something decent.

A few passersby are taken in by the fake viewports. They lean down to look through and see only glowing sunset sand inside the spaces. So, the idea worked, but it seems dishonest. Besides that, it doesn't help with the unity. Neither do the coplanar surfaces on the different sculptures because they're nearly invisible unless you're kneeling and looking for the alignment. I walk around, looking and trying to think.

Then a few brain cells fire and I more closely at the bases for B and C. They don't really do much other than hold the sculptures up. Might there be something better? I walk to the trailer, pick up the tools I need and go to work, forming up a long rib swinging between them and shaping some hollows. These make good shadows, and make the borrow pit more than just a separator. I shoot some more images. The sun is low enough to get into the various spaces, making the light-colored sand glow wonderfully.

"That's it, Rich. I've had it."
We start to pick up things, and load the trailer. He forces me to eat more cookies so he won't have to carry the heavy things home. Then Rudy and his wife come by. We haven't seen them for some time, so we go back to the sculpture and visit. By the time they leave the sun is on the horizon, so we stay to watch that. No green flash, just a great ball of fire all the way down. No attenuation at all, just red-gold light in a flood blindingly bright.

3. What Is It?

This is the second time I've tried the dispersed-multiple idea. Both times it has been OK, but no more than that. The sculptures are, I guess, too far apart to be linked effectively. Maybe I'm not doing it right. Common-base multiples seem to play with each other better.

Maybe it needed a centerpiece.
"I thought about making a fourth pile, Rich. Originally over there, beyond the pipe, but maybe it needs to be right here instead." I point to a spot near the middle of the sculpture group. "Maybe that would help hold things together."
"Yeah, if you made it eight feet tall!"
We both laugh. Nice dream. No time.

Sculpture grouping? Multiple? One-in-many? Well, certainly not that last. It could be a two-piece multiple, though, what with B and C sharing earthworks. As the sun sets, the piece looks better and better, drawing long shadows and collecting sunlight in their hollows. Are the extra pieces a distraction? On my way home I begin to think that maybe it's time to quit this fol-de-rol and just do one sculpture, but all the usual reasons work against that. The only way to get complexity from sculpture built with coarse winter sand is to make more than one, and in that regard this piece worked. Good enough.

It could also be that my definition of a multiple sculpture is too tight. Mirjam talks of creative accidents happening when one is completely focused on the art. More contemplation of this piece reveals that it's by no means a bad sculpture. It just doesn't measure up to what I think I want.

4. Further Reflection

One thing is for sure. Distributed multiples are very hard to photograph. Maybe I need to buy a panoramic camera; as it is, the wide angle setting on the Powershot is just barely wide enough. Fortunately, the small CCD works with the lens to give great depth-of-field.

Looking at the images leads to more thinking about what makes a multiple. My most powerful ones have been closer together, with basal carving that helps tie them to each other. This one does, however, have its own kind of very quiet power. It needs a quieter setting; wandering people distract because they can walk through the sculpture. One person even walks into the raked sand of the borrow pit for a photograph. I need a couple hundred feet of red tape.

Setting Unit A amid the kelp half-circle actually worked fairly well. Its base is too tall from some angles, but from down the beach the riser is just right, providing a backdrop for the kelp and giving the sculpture more presence.

If nothing else, it is encouraging of thought. What more could I ask? Well, of course, beauty, but that's harder.

Written November 16
Amended November 17

02M-6

2007-03-18T14:32:00.000-07:00

Learning Assessment

Everyone's afraid of tests. This is mainly due to how they've been used: as instruments of compulsion and punishment. The proper use of any test is to find out just what one knows. This presupposes knowing what the test is supposed to measure, which is a big problem.

Here the subject is multiple-pile sand sculpture. I've failed the test in the last two; they not being any more than three sculptures gathered near each other. Ah, but what is it I'm trying accomplish? The answer is somewhere out there in vague future, which makes any reasonable assessment difficult.

Well, keep digging for answers, then test. A few things have become clear in the five multiples I've made so far: the sculptures need to be balance, instead of one taking the lion's share of the effort. The base area needs to be restrained so that it doesn't distract from the sculptures. Water surrounding the sculptures is quite lovely. Too much carving can be even worse than too little.

Beyond those, all I have is questions. What relates one sculpture to another? What would make a set of sculptures a group, without resorting to such obvious ploys as replicated elements or copying? Three copies of the same sculpture might belong together, but why bother?

Any explorer has one foot in the old country, but the next step is unknown. If we knew what was out there we wouldn't need to go. The sun rises, I load the trailer and hit the road through the cool clear air.

Build number: 02M-6 (lifetime start #251); 3-unit formed unfiltered native sand common-base sculpture with borrow pit earthworks
Title: none
Date: November 13
Location: Venice Breakwater, just south of pipe
Start: 0715, construction time 7.5 hours
Height, Unit A: 2.4 ft (Short form, east end); Unit B: 2.1 ft (trash can, center, biased toward A); Unit C: 3.4 ft (Latchform, west end)
Base: A, 1.6 feet; B, 1.5 feet nominal; C, 1.75 feet nominal
Helpers: none
Digital Images: 94, with Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich, w/Powershot and Canon Z115 (process and completed)
Video motion: none (camera left at home deliberately)
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: none

1. Multiple Choice

The morning is radiant. A slow offshore breeze dries my throat as I haul the trailer across the sand but the job isn't as bad as it was the last time because of the recent rain. Heaps of old dry seaweed still litter the Breakwater area, but just south of the storm drain are some clear flat areas. One of these is still just awash an hour after high tide.

Last weekend's experiment with tall separated bases for the sculptures didn't really work; the bases called too much attention to themselves. This time I want the base to be more subtle and flowing, gently raising the sculptures and helping to unite them. I'd also like to use the coming high tide, and this spot should just be reachable. I dig the borrow pits and build the base with the possibility in mind of getting water in here.

The base is an elongated crescent. A long countercurved borrow pit runs along its north side, and a shorter, wider pit is on the south. All are just at the beach's soft cusp.

2. Forced Simplicity

The sand is bad. Even out where the waves break I dig up only handfuls of wet coarse sand. It's a good thing I planned for this.

Call it the "MTV Lesson." They hired me to do a demo sculpture and to teach the talent how to make sand sculpture. The tide was high and I didn't really think this was worth a full-scale effort so I used native sand and didn't bother to filter it.

Hammer on coarse sand as much as you want. It'll pack and feel solid under the tamper, but it will still be soft when carved; there just isn't enough surface area for the water that coats each grain to grab onto. I've always sought out the best sand I could find because this allows finer detail.

Well, sometimes detail can be a distraction from design. The MTV sculpture turned out to be a nice piece, with surprising grace in its thick, heavy elements. It took some time for the lesson to sink in.

This was partly because a simple sculpture doesn't take all that long to make. I like to spend time on the beach and getting finished in a couple of hours just isn't what I want. Besides, carving is the fun part. I want to maximize the proportion of time spent with carving tools in my hand, rather than shovel and tamper.

Simplicity, however, has been calling me for a few years. Ever since 1998 and its rococo designs I've felt the pull, but time always pulls the other way. The balance is difficult. Time for a new experiment: Crowd three sculptures made from crummy sand into one short winter day. There's no time to carve the detail the sand won't support anyway.

3. Spaces, Surfaces, Solids

Yes, it's bad sand. Unit C, the biggest, is particularly bad because the sand at that end of the borrow pit was even coarser than at the east end. Good sand comes off in chunks. This just slices off in loose grains. Simplicity is good, but a pile of sand is too simple.

The basic concept is of the two-element sculpture. Two slanting almost flat slabs lean inward. I carve a low hole in the west face between the slabs' edges; opposite that I carve a middle hole and connect the two so that light barely gets through.

I usually don't use this kind of sand. Two years ago I quit sculpting altogether because storms had taken away the good sand. As I look at this new space I realize the sand has one big advantage: its light color bounces light around in the spaces whereas the finer sand, being much darker, just soaks light up.

From the north I dig another hole through the necessarily thick wall. This is the high hole. There's time to shape its contours to fit with the slabby walls and rub the whole thing smooth. Nice. It glows with the late morning's light.

Early sculptures were made of legs carved out the sand. Later ones turned the legs into surfaces draped around space. This sculpture is more like a solid block with incidental spaces. Now, how do I continue that theme in the next piece?

4. Sequence

The sculptures of my last two multiples were peeled and carved one after the other, done this way so the piles wouldn't dry out. 02M-2, however, was carved as one piece with all piles peeled and ready to carve at once. That earlier method seemed to work better, so all three of these are standing naked under the sun. It's getting hot. I need a spray-wight, but the beach is nearly deserted.

The three piles are spaced along the curving base, with the two smaller ones on the east closer to each other, with the biggest one farther away on the west end. I've already made some rough shapes in the base to bring widely spaced units B and C together, as a basic idea and to remind myself that this should be one sculpture.

Unit B, the smallest, takes on a tall concave on its northwest side that echoes one on Unit C's northeast side. I also cut a high hole whose shape resembles that on Unit C. On the south side I cut the center out and carve some supporting spiraling ribs. A little overlap cut looks good, so I go back to Unit C and carve a similar element there. You can't see both from the same position but maybe it will work. Who knows? It's an experiment.

Simple sculptures don't take long. I do some more base work, throwing buckets of water onto the waste sand and forming it into long curving ridges that flow past the two completed pieces.

5. Balance

Why three units? Is there some mystical reason? Some heavy religious significance? Nope. It just happens that I have three forms, and only three forms, of an appropriate size.

"I'm trying to be less fussy, Rich. Finding a middle path between overly complex sculptures and things that aren't interesting."
"Just as long as your middle way doesn't turn into an eightfold multiple!"
I laugh. Rich's religious outlook is as multiplex as mine. "Actually, the multiple was originally conceived as a seven-part sculpture."
"The only way you'd get that is to have several days."
"And lots of help." These three forms together hold about 17 cubic feet of packed sand, to which I've added an equal amount in the base, and my shoulders feel every cubic foot. That doesn't include all the water I've carried up here to pack the base and keep it wet.

Now the test's third problem comes up. I like what I've made so far. Like any other school kid I just don't want to mess it up with a bad answer now.

I carry over the bulging overall shapes of the first two pieces, and the high hole cut in the thick wall. This piece develops a little more complexity, getting a little more energy because I've been so economical on the first two.

"This is really nice."
"Thank you." He's a lifeguard I've not met before. "Have you been working here long? Most of them at least know of me.
"No. I'm new. Just a few seasons. I'm Alex."
"Nice to meet you, Alex. I'm Larry." We shake hands.
Tim, our man in the tower this season, has also been walking past to take periodic progress checks. This is the quiet season; the water's too cold for any but the real swimmers so the lifeguards don't have much to do except watch sand sculptors.

I slightly dome the top edges of the third piece, to match the others. It's not really a dome on this one because its center is carved out. Light bounces around in the central cavity very nicely. I could get used to light-colored sand.

"That's it. Time to quit."
"It's only two o'clock! You've never quit so early."
"I still have a lot of work to do with the base." It is, after all, the fourth part of this sculpture.

6. Final Assembly

This is sheer physical work. I cut the edges of the borrow pits back and smooth them and fill in the bottom with waste sand. Between the sculptures I place and smooth long ridges that flow from one side to the other.

The longest of these just doesn't work. It starts between Units A and B, then takes a constant curve to the west, ending below Unit C. It looks like the edge of a bathtub. I cut a big part of it out, a scallop that softens the whole thing and takes less attention.

It's all done on hands and knees. I need some sort of long-handled tool for this task but it would be a specialized item.

Some of the edges are too sharp. I fill them in with sand, pack it and then smooth it with a long hand stroke. That's better.

In 1971 I worked for an engineering company. One of my tasks was to calculate, from numbers taken from the highway plan, the amount of cut or fill for a section of the highway. The ideal was to have the two balance out so as to avoid having to haul dirt very far. My objective here is the same. The clean-up process for 02M-2 generated a lot of spoil that had to be carted away. The cost would have ruined me if Bob and Rich hadn't volunteered to be the trucking contractors.

This time I've worked it out better. Most of the spoil goes into the borrow pits, to smooth the bottom. I carry a few buckets to low spots in the base to smooth them out, pack it in and then smooth it out.

"The tide is approaching."
A wave breaks and rolls, sliding up the wet sand, thinning, stopping and sinking into the sand. Each one comes a bit higher.
"Good. I'm hoping it comes high enough to fill the borrow pits, but I'm right on the cusp. Given that the morning's high tide was about half a foot higher, and reached over there, I think it'll be close." I point to a pile of kelp about ten feet above my sculpture.

While working in the south borrow pit I sign the sculpture.
"As long as I'm here. It's not really finished yet, but very close."
I finish working in the pit, clean up the south part of the base, and call it good.
"One last step."
I reach into the borrow pits and get handfuls of sand, which I throw over the base to randomize its surface. This makes a good backdrop for the brushed smooth sculptures. Then I walk around, cleaning up a few last details such as handprints and footprints in the borrow pits.
"There. That's it."

7. The Fifth Element

Tim walks over to take one of his periodic looks.
"It's finished."
"Looks good. You might get some water in the holes."
"I hope so, but it's going to be close."
Waves reach but expire just short of the borrow pit's lip.

"You're going to have to take over your camera now."
"No problem, Rich. I need to do some site clean-up first."
"It's over there on the table."
I walk around, gathering tools and buckets. I load various loose items onto the trailer so that they don't take up so much background in photographs.

"Turn your back and see what you get?"
"What's that?"
"Water in your moat."
I turn around. Rich is right. Flowlines mark the south slopes of each borrow pit. "Well, we'll just have to make the moat of it."
"If it doesn't work, you're demoated."
"Yeah, I'll just have to join the DeMoatlay club." That one gets a heartfelt groan from Rich.

For the next half hour or so, nothing much happens. I walk around the sculpture, shooting any angle that looks interesting. The shadowed side is very difficult because the air is so clear the sun is like a hot spark near the horizon, getting into the lens.

"Here it comes!"
A more energetic wave slops into the borrow pits, and this time the water stays. More waves enter, enough eventually to wash the foam out. The sculpture stands nearly surrounded, its vertical elements reflected in the water after it stops moving.

The effect is spectacular. The basal ridges, the sculptures' monumental forms and the water all come together strongly. It is of the beach and the ocean, yet also its own thing, in a way that happens very seldom. Most of the time my sculptures stand proud, not really a part of anything. This one combines the standing with the joining.

"The experiments worked, Rich."
"Yah. This is a good one."

8. The Reason for Failure

The ride home, under the glowing blue-black sky, goes slowly. About my body: if it moves, it hurts. If it's not supposed to move, it still hurts. Standing still hurts more than moving.

Even after dinner and a bottle of Full Sail amber, I'm wired. Hurt, yes, but what a sculpture! It flames in memory, keeping me awake most of the night, reflected in still water.

Written November 14

02M-5

2007-03-18T12:54:00.000-07:00

There Is No "Undo" Command for Sand Sculpture

Multiplied opportunities for failure. The multiple-pile sculpture's original raison d'etre was simply to fill a contest-sized plot. 2002 has turned into The Year of the Multiple because the design possibilities go far beyond space-filling. And, if one is going to be post-sculptural anyway, what's the difference between being run over by a compact car and being hit by a train?

When George says he'll be there to help with a sculpture I decide to essay once more the multiple balancing act. It's easy to fail, but great fun trying.

Nature's usual role in this process is to provide the essential sand and water. Due to timing, and sloth the day before, I'll be using native sand. Arrival at the beach reveals a further challenge in great heaps of kelp that have washed ashore.

Build number: 02M-5 (lifetime start #250); unfiltered native sand dispersed multiple with earthworks and kelp, Unit C PCF
Title: none
Date: November 2
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 0745, construction time 7 hours (approx 9 person-hours)
Height, Unit A: 3.5 ft (Latchform); Unit B: 2.5 ft (Short form); Unit C: 2.8 ft (Latchform)
Base: A, 1.75 feet nominal; B, 1.6 feet; C, 1.75 feet nom. Placed on individual sand risers between existing piles of kelp
Helpers: George Ollen
Digital Images: 70, with Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich, w/Powershot (incl builder) and Canon Z115
Video motion: none
Video still: none
Video volunteer: none
New Equipment: none

1. The Stage

In my mental plans for this sculpture I have always started with a beach swept smooth and clean by the morning high tide. Sometimes the tide brings up more than it takes away, sand and seaweed, and today is one of those days. Not only is there more sand than usual but there is kelp lying everywhere in heaps and windrows.

This is a real hair-shirt performance. I was too slothful to come down yesterday and fetch good sand so I'll be using the native stuff. This might be encouraging of simplicity, which is beginning to look like a good thing for multi-part sculptures.

The original plan for a tightly integrated set of sculptures goes down with the tide. I just don't feel like moving a couple of tons of kelp. Well, how about siting sculptures in the clear areas between kelp deposits? This has possibilities. I choose three good sites and start work on the first raised base.

2. Supporting Actors

The nice thing about starting a sculpture at high tide is that water is easy to get. This encourages the building of a large riser for the first sculpture, with tails that descend to beach level. The Latchform goes on top and I start tamping.

George shows up when I'm about halfway finished.
"We were up until 12:30. This is what's hard about living with someone. I wouldn't feel good about just going to bed when Tess is still awake. I guess."
I wonder why not. There's a lot about living with other people that I don't know. We'd talked earlier about his enjoyment of early-morning walks on the beach and why he couldn't do that now.

We finish Unit A and leave it standing there on its riser.
"I want another one here. We'll use the short form."
"Where should I get the sand?"
"Deepen that area there. I want a ramp coming up, ending, oh, about here."
We work on the ramp. What I really want is to just place a finished sculpture right onto the undisturbed each. Construction disrupts the area too much, but is unavoidable.

I place the short form on its riser. Filling it doesn't take long, with George shovelling and me doing the tamping.

For the third pile I'll re-use the Latchform because I'm not in the mood for the trash can and its hassles. I choose a site, then reconsider when the original seems too far away. i move it to just inside a curving windrow of kelp. This one is to be lower than the others so its riser is minimal, the sand taken from a curving trench whose line I drew with my toe.

I remove the latchform from Unit A. The column holds. After washing the form off I set it up for the second time and we fill it.
"I'll turn this whole job over to you, George, so I can get the carving started."
"My contract reads that I only have to shovel and talk."
So, I stay with it. The problem is that George can't talk and shovel at the same time; he starts a story, the shovel becomes a prop.
"Mas arena, por favor."
"Oh, yes."

He's not used to this rough antithesis to my usual finely controlled process.
"That's amazing. Three piles in what? An hour? Hour and a half?"
This is how it used to be. Just throw the sand in, whatever I could find.

3. The Lead

It's about as close to ritual as I get, this walk to the trailer to pick up my tub of tools. I don't come here to pack sand. The real work is about to begin. I carry the tub past the heaps of seaweed and put it on the sand near Unit A. I pick up the Super Slicer and take the first cut.

The pile is soft. Typical of the coarser sand taken from this high-tide site. Sharp edges won't hold, the sand will dry rapidly so it will have to be sprayed frequently, and I'll have to make sure all forces are well contained.

I've been thinking for some time of a sculpture whose two major legs are joined by hollow bridges. This seems like a good time to try it because the design should be relatively undemanding of the sand.

First I carve the east side into a long curve. This sand won't take anything fancier. The other side is steeper but still curves inward, to hang slightly over the east side's top.

Two hours later the sculpture has taken on more complication. My favorite is a surface that curves like a saddle over the space below. Holes through the west slab admit light.

"That's pretty well established. Time to work on the next. The day is short."
"Right."
I turn to the short form, removing the Naugahyde and washing it in the pool left behind by the low tide.

The starting plan is for an echo of the saddle-shaped piece from Unit A, suspended on curving legs. I start it by carving the overall shape so that the pile looks like an egg with its wide end on the sand.
"Stop right there. It's perfect."
I continue shaping. "This wouldn't be much fun if I listened to you, George." The situation is rather like those cartoons wherein an angel on one shoulder tells the character to resist the devil on the other shoulder. Rich wants lots of holes. George likes solid simplicity. I just want to carve some sand and solid objects are too simple.

Still, the idea has merit.
"I'll leave it this way for a time and see how the rest goes."
"Good."
Then one of the random lines left by my polishing hand suggests a two-element sculpture, the two parts leaning against each other in a simpler version of Unit A. Good enough. I make the cut, up and around, as if the egg had been sliced on a diagonal. The western part is the smaller, and I carve it to curve into the first cut. Then I cut windows on each side so I can carve the center out. Light passes through.

Will this be right? You only get one cut, and there's no way to put it back. The whole thing is carved live on the fly. Sometimes you can sneak up on things and pull back if it doesn't work, but short winter days don't allow much sneaking. Make the cut, make it work.

"It's too symmetrical!"
"There's no pleasing you, is there? I was thinking that the symmetry might be a good counterbalance for the other pieces." Just because this didn't work at San Pedro doesn't mean it can't work here.

The first two sculptures are on islands. I want the third one to be more a part of this beach, so I trim it to a taper and then cut flutes that curve and continue into the base area. As I carve the flutes I wonder if they're too close to each other. When the central two fall off I know they were too close. And that the sand wasn't very well packed. I hope the rest holds up.

I'm getting tired. Rich's cookies and Zone bars will only carry one so far. I stayed up too late last night. The third sculpture straggles to an unsatisfying conclusion.
"We're running out daylight, and I have lots of basal carving left to do." This is a lame excuse for a lame sculpture, but maybe I can redeem it with good earthworks.

I shovel sand around, carving lines in the beach around the heaps of kelp. Water thrown by the bucketful smooths the sand in the borrow pits. I build up some areas and cut others away; the result is still three sculptures amid seaweed. Ah well, who cares about failure when it's so much fun to try?

4. The Critics

"You just don't know when to quit. You need to hire us to tell you. When we say stop, you stop."
"Except Rich never says stop. Unless the sculpture falls over."

The best-sited sculpture is Unit C. It leans slightly eastward, against the slope of its base, and the combination is graceful. it works with the beach. Too bad the sculpture itself is the weakest of the three.

Unit A is a good sculpture but its tall riser separates it too far from the beach. Its complexity is a further problem. By itself it would be great, but here it's like a Beethoven movement inserted into a Steve Reich symphony.

Unit B's elegant simplicity lends support to George's ideas about knowing when to quit. Its base is too tall for it to flow from the beach as I'd wanted.

It's easy to see in which order they were carved. Quality goes downhill with the alphabet. This is a characteristic of multiples, and George's simplicity might alleviate this as well.

5. The Show Wraps

I begin to relax from the construction frenzy and realize the sun is higher in the sky than I'd thought.
"There's at least an hour of daylight left!"
"Yep," Rich says, "It's about 3:40"
"Too bad I don't have any energy left." That's the life of the one-day beach sand sculptor: always short of something.

I shoot a round with my digital camera. Today has introduced another first into the process: no film photography, no video. Documentation only on digital stills. There is wondrous simplicity in this. My pack is much lighter. Image prep is much easier too, and yields better quality.

Art is never finished. I'm not happy with the base. It's my sculpture. I go back to work, scattering sand over the water-smoothed areas, and trying to reduce some of the ridges and mounds. The effort is partially successful. Randomizing with thrown sand helps the sculptures to stand out, and reduces the impact of their tall risers, but the smooth sand looked better.

Ah, well, you have to quit sometime.
"I've had it. Tired, cold and hungry."
We pack up and walk away, all three of us working to get the trailer over all that dry sand. It has built much farther out than usual, making an already long walk even more tedious.

Sunlight bathes the beach in soft gold. The sculptures glow amid the damp brown seaweed. The setting is fantastic. I just wish I'd taken better advantage of it; opportunities like this don't happen often.

I wobble away northward, into a cold damp wind, as the light fades. Ah, what fun. It didn't work all that well, but it was great fun finding out.

6. The Director's Cut

By any standard I use to judge my work, this piece just didn't work. Why, then, am I so excited?

The various parts don't really belong with each other. The earthworks don't help, separating the sculpture's elements too much from the beach. The seaweed helps ameliorate the clumsy bases, but there's still not much here to make a multiple.

What do I expect? More to the point, what do I know? Maybe I'm excited because of the possibilities inherent in ignorance. The direction of sand sculpture is always forward, no undo is possible, and forward from this point looks promising.

One principle that drives complex sculpture is that I come to the beach to spend a day. Pounding sand for two hours and then spending only an hour carving a simple sculpture just wouldn't be fun. There needs to be more. Well, how about several simple sculptures instead of one complex one? Might not be a bad idea.

They may not work perfectly together, but they're still a decent family. It's interesting to walk around and through the site to get different views and details. Video might make a better presentation than stills, but the main thing is to make a sculpture.

In this case, make three, plus earthworks. Experiment. See where it goes. It's a multiple because I say it is.

Written November 3
Edited and amended November 11

02M-4 "Three Proximal Sketches"

2007-03-18T11:26:00.000-07:00

San Pedro Calling

Twice a year the Cabrillo Marine Aquarium has a "Sea Fair." One of the many
events is a sand sculpture contest, and in 2001 I did a demonstration
sculpture for them. It was a nice event, low-key, real people, most of them
having fun. Especially the treasure hunt, which leads people to the beach.
I could learn from them; if I want people to help with sand sculpture I
should tell them there's a treasure buried in the sand, then stand back and
watch it fly.

It's my kind of event. When they call in August my answer is quick,
although the sand isn't the best and the venue is noisy with workboats and
other things.

My main question, as the time approaches, is what kind of sculpture to
make. One big pile? One small pile? A multiple? Well, never immediately
decide anything that can be put off.

One difference from last year is that I now know my Latchform will fit,
just barely, in the back seat of my car. If I take that, however, I can't
get the longer "big form" in. OK, we'll try a multiple. The smaller forms
just slip inside the Latchform and we're ready to go.

Build number: 02M-4 (lifetime start #249)
Title: "Three Proximal Sketches"
Date: October 20
Location: Cabrillo Beach, San Pedro, for Cabrillo Marine Aquarium
Start: 0815 formal, construction time 6 hours (approx 12 person-hours)
Height, Unit A: 3.3 ft (Latchform); Unit B: 2.3 ft (Short form); Unit C: 2
ft (trash can)
Base: A, 1.75 feet nominal; B, 1.6 feet; C, 1.5 feet. All placed on raised
base approx 5' X 8'
Helpers: Piling by four or five Sea Fair volunteers
Digital Images: 48, with Canon Powershot G2
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Larry Dudock, w/ Canon Rebel and Powershot
Video motion: none
Video still: none
Video volunteer: Larry Dudock, w/ Elura (20 min) and XL1 (approx 90 min)
New Equipment: Canon Powershot G2, first use for its intended purpose

1. The Limits of Memory

The old car and its older driver cruise along under low clouds. My
equipment rattles much as it does when it's in the bicycle trailer but
cornering elicits a nasty grinding noise. Old cars and I immediately start
to worry, but quickly realize it's just the noise plastic makes when
sliding over sandy plastic as the forms shift.

I was here last year. That was a long time ago, but I remember being on
Harbor Boulevard. The brigantines are gone, the construction area now
empty. I wonder if they're sailing yet. I wander along streets, sort of
smelling my way to the aquarium.

When I get to the gate I wonder if anyone knows I'm coming; I've not heard
from them since August. The gate man waves me through after I give him my
name. Now it's simple: just make a sculpture.

Yes, but where? I walk the beach and seem to remember where I built last
year. I get some helpers from the information booth and we go to work. I
tried again to find a way to carry the sand cart here on the top of my car,
but the car has no place to attach rope or bungee cords. We end up simply
carrying all of my equipment to the chosen spot.

2. E Pluribus Unum? How?

What unites the movements of a symphony? I've done enough multiple
sculptures to have learned that the connections between units are subtle
and complex.

Any multiple sculpture is made of vertical units and the ground upon which
they stand. Similarity of the vertical units is an obvious relating
technique, and this is what I used on my first one, for the World
Championships. It worked fairly well, but what's beyond the obvious?

The ideal is to have units that pull away from each other but still are
joined by something. What is that something? What turns a collection of
loose parts into one thing? When making 02M-2, I used the units' overall
shapes, and some of the carved elements, to relate them to each other; the
ground was nearly incidental. This worked well. In M-3 the ground was more
important.

For this piece I've decided to use the help to try a more dramatic base.
Then I'll experiment with the vertical units. We start by piling and
wetting sand to make a mound that slopes downward toward the water. Unit A,
the trash can, goes nearly at beach level at the east end of the pile. Unit
B, the Short Form, is placed at the high point, with Unit C on a pad at the
west end. All three are close to each other. This is basic economics; it
takes a lot of sand to make that mound and we don't have all day. Besides,
when you don't know what you're doing, try something even if it's wrong.

3. Parallel Processing

I demonstrate to my helpers how to pack the sand into a form, starting with
the most difficult.
"This form is old and has been replaced in most uses. It's made from a
trash can, and was an experiment."
"Now you use that grey one?"
"Yes. I made that last year. I only use this for multiples."
We fill it. I do the tamping and they haul water. Gradually they take over
the whole process.
"Tamp vigorously. You need to feel it in your feet." We're not filtering
the sand so as to save time.

When the trash can is full I start them on the short form.
"OK. You're on your own now." I peel the trash can off and start to carve.

In the distance I notice the event planners setting up for the sand
sculpture contest. Way over there. Maybe they're planning for a big crowd
of entries. Maybe I placed myself in the wrong place, a worry reinforced by
a few waves that wash up close to the base of my sculpture. I forgot to
look at the tide chart, just as I forgot to ask someone where to make this
sculpture.

4. Serial Processing, with Comm Failures

"You're not going to do a finger test on that pile before you start
carving?"
"No. Finger testing is for those who don't know what they're doing. The
tools will tell me all I need to know. That, folks, is Larry Dudock, who
spends more time finger testing and smelling the pile than he does carving
it."
"Smelling the pile?"
"Yes," Larry says. "You have to smell it all over to make sure the sand is
good."

I have been thinking about a sculpture made of two elements leaning against
each other, with a wide space beneath in a sort of overlapping tunnel. I
take a few cuts on the small pile.

"Do you want me to get some process video while you work?"
"I don't care. I'm just trying to get a sculpture done." Larry goes to get
the camcorder.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions while you work?"
I should think the answer to that one obvious. "I'd rather you didn't."
It's all I can do to keep track of some sort of design, and all these
questions feel like depth charges by a balsa submarine. They don't stop,
either, along with entirely unrelated comments. I'm beginning to learn why
it takes Larry so long to do his sculptures: he doesn't keep his mind on
the work. And he won't let me keep my mind on my work, and it takes work to
tune him out.

Multiples are complex. The last one had me wiped out for a day afterward. I
need my mind on my sculpture. Rich is a great helper, watching to see
what's going on and making comments only when I'm at a point where
distraction doesn't matter.

Lisa, the event organizer, walks up.
"Thank you for doing this, Larry."
"Oh, you're welcome, but I'm afraid I messed up on the location. I thought
the contest was over here last year."
"No. It's always over there. But you're fine. We'll put some banners here
to draw people."
I'm about to ask her about the Spring Sea Fair when Larry walks over and
introduces himself, regardless of the fact that she and I are talking.
After that I can't get a word in edgewise, so I go back to carving.

The first sculpture is shaping up nicely. Not what I started to make, as
usual, but it has a neat elegance. The kids are finished packing Unit B,
also unfiltered. It occurs to me that there's plenty of time for them to
filter the last one, so I show them how to do that. The concept doesn't
thrill them, but they go to work, in between sessions of chasing each
other.
"Don't break his tamper!" Two of them are tugging on it.
"Yes. It cost me all of about ten dollars. Very valuable." More valuable is
time. "Use that to tamp the sand, not to hit each other!" We all laugh and
they go back to work, for a few more minutes. I could have done it faster
alone, but today it's perfect. I carve, they pack, and when they're
finished I've also finished the first sculpture and can now start on the
second.

The kids wander off to various other tasks after I get a group photo.
"Thanks for your help." They carried water, filtered and tamped, all of it
while trying to keep themselves clean. They, unlike me, have been fairly
successful.

The last time I did a sculpture like this, I peeled all three piles at once
and then carved them together. They achieved an attractive unity. I can
only hope for that here as I take the first strokes on Unit B. This comes
after digging the support ring out of the sand; I forgot to tell my helpers
that the ring comes out when the form is half full. There's a first time
for everything.

Right from the start it's a different sculpture. Unit A is enclosed,
soft-edged, round. Unit B spreads toward the top, with edges as sharp as
this mediocre sand will hold and narrow slots. I like it. It turns out to
be one of the best I've ever made with the Short Form.

With that well established I decide to take a break.
"Mind the store, Larry. I'm going for lunch."
"Fine. When you come back I'll go."

I walk up to the office and claim a sandwich and accoutrements. There are
various exhibits up in the museum, including the man who makes model
engines. They all run on compressed air, some being accurate models of
historical engines. Others are flights of fancy, made just to have many
parts moving, with strange crossheads and levers. They're fascinating. I
don't know what they have to do with the sea, but they're also beautiful.
Maybe that's all the commonality they need. Out on the stage the Taiko
drummers are getting started. A flute starts the piece, and then a drummer
belts a slow beat. Others join in with stylized motions. It's quite a
performance, but I have a sculpture to finish.

It's afternoon by the time I get to the big piece. Because it's close to
Unit B I have a hard time working on the inside; naturally, it winds up
facing outward. It also turns out to be symmetric, the first I've done in
years. It suits my capabilities because symmetry is easy to design: make
half a sculpture and then copy it. I'm hoping its relative simplicity will
help balance the wild asymmetry of Unit B.

Throughout the construction announcements come from the information booth.
They must have hired this man for his enthusiasm. The Queen of the Sea
contest goes, then the Treasure Hunt, and then The Girls get on the stage
to play. Their harmonies float out over the beach, good music for carving.

"OK. That's going to have to be good. I've about had it." The symmetric
piece is still rough, with obvious bilateral differences, but it's still
better than the last one I did, some years back. There is still the base to
carve, the unseen fourth unit. It curves to a broad hump just east of Unit
B, and then slopes more sharply downward into a depression. Unit A is set
into a low spot on the south side, and Unit A is on an extension that
angles southwest. I cut, trim, throw away waste sand, and then brush
everything. The sheer amount of work involved in basal sculpture is why I
don't do it very often. This one will have to be good enough. I'm gone.

5. Three Family Members Searching For A Reason To Belong

I clean up the site and then spend a little time looking at what I've made.
Individually the pieces are good, better than anything I've done for a
previous multiple. Therein is the problem: three strong pieces that don't
belong with each other beyond just being in the same vicinity. The base is
also nice, but doesn't overcome the sculptures' oil-and-water lack of
union. I'm depressed. All that work and it fails.

That's the trouble with multiples. Lots more work, lots more chances to
fail. Larry and I load my stuff back into my car and I plop into the
driver's seat.
"I wish I had a taxi."
"Will you be OK?"
"I'll have to be. Just take it easy, with no quick movements."

I head out of the parking lot. Slowly, to avoid running into anyone. I make
it to the freeway by simply driving straight ahead until I see a sign.
Traffic is light, fortunately, and I can relax a bit.

Failure. Multiple. Union. Suddenly I realize that I've answered one of the
major questions. Will a strong base unite disparate sculptures? The answer
is new, and clear. No. Well, good enough. They were good sculptures,
though, weren't they? I smile and keep driving. All they had in common was
beauty.

Written October 21
Recovered November 5, from Mirjam, after I overwrote the original
Consruction and builder photos by Larry Dudock

02P-4

2007-03-18T08:10:00.000-07:00

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

02M-3

2007-03-18T07:25:00.000-07:00

Isn't black-and-white lovely? These were shot on 35mm Kodak T-max with a wide-angle lens. I wish there were a good, easy way to convert digital camera images to black-and-white. Maybe I should buy another scanner and go back to film.

Let's Keep It Simple

The first Saturday after Labor Day is always special. Summer's crowds have gone home and I no longer have to take Fridays off from work to make sculptures so as to avoid them. As Rich has said, not only are there more people on summer weekends, thereby increasing the absolute number of jerks, but the tails of the curve reach farther so the jerks that show up are worse. This describes my experience very well.

So, this will be the first Saturday. In order to get a sculpture off, however, some planning is necessary because the tide is high in the morning, followed by an even higher tide after sunset. This puts the building site far up the beach, in the very dry sand that's full of trash.

Part of the plan falls apart at Trader Joe's. They don't seem to make Force Primeval Bars, the Luncheon of Sand Sculptors, any more but Zone bars are a decent substitute. I wander around the store, post-sculptural after Wednesday's hair-raising near failure, selecting all the things I need, including sunscreen. At the checkout I'm lucky because there's no line. I pack my things. The checker finishes and I run my card through the reader. It responds with a blank screen.
"Your card has expired."
I knew the lack of a line was a bad sign. This is what I get for following instructions: the new card said not to even think of using it until the start date. I pay for what I can with cash and slink out of the store, followed by the glares of the people now in line behind me. Of course, they've never made a mistake like this.

Friday holds two surprises. The first is George, knocking on the door as I'm writing Email to Mirjam; he's on the west side to look at garage doors but is in immediate need of breakfast.
"I was also thinking of wading on the beach."
"Sounds good to me." Body surfing is better on a rising tide, at least once it's high enough to cover the low-tide bars. We head for Joe's Diner and banana-walnut pancakes. This is one of the few places that does know how to make pancakes.
"Well, I should be responsible and get over to that garage door place." He drives up the hill back toward my place. I'm disappointed, but I can always walk back. Then he stops, right there in the middle of the street.
"What am I thinking?" Cars go around us. "Do you want to go wading?"
"I was anticipating it." He has been badly distracted ever since buying the house.
He gives the wheel a hard right spin and heads down the hill and back toward the beach. "We need to keep our priorities straight."
"Yes."

This is the day's second surprise: a cool breeze and boisterous water. The tide is still somewhat low, so the waves wall up over the bars and then unload on top of any body surfer silly enough to be there. I take one and then play in the post-break foam. Good enough for me. George, being a stronger swimmer, is out there in the rough stuff.

We walk south, splashing. I pick up wet sand, make balls, and toss them. They make interesting sounds and splatters of sand when they hit. The day sparkles, growing warmer, but clouds come along to attenuate the sunshine.

Back home, the decision is easier. The simple way. George charges away for the second time. He's in search of the Holy Grail, I mean a cellular phone that works. I put a few tools into my pack. Water too, and a camera, and then I pick up the skateboard.

Build number: 02M-3 (all free-pile)
Title: none
Date: September 6
Location: Venice Breakwater, south side littoral
Start: 1300; approx 3 hours building time
Height, Unit A: 3 ft; Unit B: 1.8 ft
Base: A, 1.5 feet near circular; B, 1 ft X 3.25 ft.
Helpers: none
Photo 35mm: approx 15 exp Tmax 100 (EI80) w/LX and 28-135 zoom
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Bob Jeffords
Video motion: none
Video still: none
Video volunteer: walkaround and stills by Larry Dudock
New Equipment: none

It may appear to be the same beach, but everything has changed. Very high tides produced under the new moon have dragged the sand into new contours; the site where Larry built his sculpture is now eroded completely away. Wednesday's fine sand has been taken away, replaced by coarser sand that can remain in place better in the strong high-tide currents.

The sea gives and the sea takes away. The fine sand may be missing, but what's left is good enough and relatively free of shells and rocks. This aspect may be more important than absolute sand quality for free-pile sculpture.

Siting a free-pile is an exercise in compromise. Higher on the beach allows more time, but means the borrow pit has to be deeper and water flows into it more slowly. Lower borrow pits fill faster, but the tide takes the sculpture sooner and the initial building is more difficult because of the wet beach. Take your choice and start digging.

Sheets of cloud with glowing pearly edges flow out of the northwest. To the southwest is a big knot of what looks like rain; as the afternoon progresses, I build steadily and a few flying raindrops hit me. A promise of things to come? I hope so.

I haven't made many multi-part sculptures, and those few have always used forms for the piliing. I like the multiple idea. Why not try it for free-piling? I stop building the first pile when it's about three feet tall, a monolithic frustum, and start a second pile about a foot away. This one is long and low, a rough arc topped with a short tower that widens toward the top.

How do I relate these two very different piles? Worry about that later. Right now I have a vision for the tall one.

Unfortunately the vision proves to be stronger than the sculpture. Free-piled sand isn't so well packed, and the ball's north side ends up being too thin; when I start rubbing away loose sand on top, the gentle touch is too much and it collapses. What's left isn't very attractive. Vision is important and in this case I wanted a derivation from last Wednesday's round-top sculpture, with more internal structure. That part was going well, but didn't leave enough sand to hold it up. It was also dry; I didn't bring the sprayer. I abandon it and turn to the second pile.

This also doesn't show much promise. It's short, blocky. Well, can I accentuate that, maybe combine that with some flowing sections?

Details make it happen. The first cut wasn't much to look at, but further refinement brings out some beauty.

The tide is still well down. I have tools, and there's daylight, and although I'm getting hungry I still have energy. Might as well see what I can do with the remnant of Unit A.

Being able to work while sitting down is a big help. The first step is to clear away the chunks that fell off and trim the broken edges down to solid sand. More futzing and hollowing, followed by detail work, produces a reasonably attractive piece.

Earthworks are the finishing touch. Hollows scooped out of the beach, to continue lines present in the above-ground works. Around the hollows I scatter loose sand to contrast with the sculpture's smooth surfaces.

What is it? Multiple? Free-pile? As I walk around after signing it I realize it's a multiple. Somewhat of a stretch, but true nonetheless. Later on, in an Email message, Mirjam supplies the idea that I just couldn't quite reach: "If there are two parts far enough from each other so see them as separate sculptures and still they have a relation, then it's a multiple."

Written September 7
Edited December 28

02F-18

2007-03-18T07:21:00.000-07:00

Follow or Quit

The votes are in and the public agrees. 02F-17 was one of the special ones. I was too tired to really notice at the time, but the more I look at it the better I like it.

This brings up a problem that's consistent but fortunately infrequent. What's next? The next one is going to be a let-down, guaranteed. I let the normal weekend go by, pleading fatigue.

Push versus inertia. Usually there's enough push to get me out onto the beach, but inertial increases after a really good sculpture. Or perhaps the push decreases, as the desire to scratch goes away after you've done a good job scratching.

Progress is like foothills. You want to climb the tall ones but they're beyond the short ones so you have to climb them first. The top of a foothill might seem really nice, but out there somewhere is the next really good sculpture and I'll never make it by sitting up here next to the last one.

Load the trailer, Larry. Put some water in the fridge. Make sure you have some charged battery packs for the camcorder and organize some portable food. Instead of thinking about it, get it done.

Build number: 02F-18 (lifetime start #248) (ICF)
Title: "High-motility Gamete Insertion Device"
Date: September 4 (Wednesday)
Location: Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start: 0800; construction time 9 hours
Height: 4.2 feet (sailcloth form)
Base: 1.75 feet diameter
Assistant: none
Photo 35mm: approx 15 exp TMX135 w/LX and 28-135 zoom
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: Rich and Larry
Video motion: walkaround, detail tracking, atmosphere, LD process w/XL1 (11 min)
Video still: verticals of whole sculpture
Video volunteer: Larry (safety and completion)
New Equipment: none

1. Preparation

Before the trailer can be loaded, however, there's a matter of sand. It won't be available when I need it, so I need to time-shift about half a ton. This is made more palatable by putting a few tools in the cart before I walk away. Mussel shells are all well and good, but I have better.

Walking is simple. Less hassle with traffic and my route can be right on the beach. Let the cars fight for space while I attract all kinds of attention with my big-wheeled carrier.

Placement is a problem. Last night's high tide swept the area clean, making a nice place to put tomorrow's sculpture. The one problem with this plan is that tonight's tide will be higher. I use a tarp for my sand cache, and surround it with six or seven buckets full of sand. The buckets hold the tarp's edges up so water will flow around; at least this has worked in the past.

The sand is good. Four buckets at a time I haul it up the beach and dump it onto the tarp-substitute that I swiped from Jason's birthday party: a cheap vinyl tablecloth. My tarp was stolen the last time I did this, so I'm trying something less attractive. The biggest problem with the whole process is dumping the buckets. They're heavy. I need to make the next cart so that it will haul sand without buckets. I'll just tip it up to dump.

When the process is nearly complete, Larry shows up. He's moving to Los Angeles so that he can do sculpture all year round. There's nothing like sitting in your apartment in the middle of a blizzard and then receiving, by Email, a report of a sculpture someone else made that day while being worried about sunburn.

"I've decided to try a sculpture tomorrow, or at least get ready for it."
"OK. The tide will hit about here tonight. Dig all you want. I'm going free-piling." He sets up the other piece of plastic and goes to work.

I find a spot and dig a hole. Water is a long time coming, forcing me to start the hole with the shovel. I could move farther down but I'm going to be short of time anyway as the tide rises. The sculpture is a monolith that develops some interesting spaces and undulations. The shapes are more rounded, and flow into the sculpture's interior. It has nice details.

The ocean comes up and fills the borrow pit. I quit working and a few minutes later the sculpture comes apart. By this time Larry's borrow pit is full and he's hauled about all the sand he'll get today. I rinse off my sandy hands and tools and walk up to the caches.

Three of my buckets have been relocated. Too tired to say much about unilateral appropriation of equipment, I just reorganize my cache as best I can and hope as I walk north with the cart bobbing along behind.

"Did you build that?"
"Yes."
"Do you sell them?"
"I would if someone asked."
"I need it for my old dog. He's too old to walk."

The sparkling water and warm sun add up to an invitation I can no longer refuse. I park the cart and walk in to catch a few waves. There's nothing like swimming to loosen up tight muscles.

2. Variation

Written September 5 (unfinished)