|
|
|
|
|
98H-4 "Looped" | ||
| This is the year's last chance. One last fling in the sand, one last chance to make 1998 the year I find the perfect sculpture hiding in that pile. This might have worked better but for all the parties and staying up too late. My brain is running at half speed as I ride to the beach; fortunately, traffic is light. |
| Build number: | 98H-4 (lifetime start #151) |
| Title: | "Looped" |
| Date: | December 26 |
| Location: | Venice Breakwater, on the flat |
| Start: | 0900; building time: 7 hours |
| Height: | 4.2 feet (short form with free-pile extension) |
| Base: | 1.6 feet, cylindric |
| Photography: | last half of the roll E100S-135, with LX and 85mm |
|
It's cold. High clouds block the sun, and even at 9 o'clock the offshore breeze chills my wet legs as I dance atop the nascent base. Cold I can handle; it just means I work faster. The best news is that the sand is very good. Calm water has allowed the shy fine grains to build up below the storm drain in a layer thick enough to scrape off and carry away, strip mining on a small scale. This mine will disappear in a few hours, and the materials carried away will return not long after. As sometimes happens, there are many rocks and shells in the sand, so I filter sand into the plastic tub to make slurry for the free-pile extension. Filtering into a form is easier because I only handle the sand once instead of twice; maybe I need to make a tapered extension for this type of sculpture. The other problem with this technique is that my tub doesn't hold much sand. I have to stop and make more slurry, which means the growing pile dries out, requiring special effort to make sure new additions stick solidly. Still, I like the freedom of the hybrid technique. In an hour or so I have a pile. The day's major assignment is to make the sculpture's lower parts look as if they belong. I want them to make more of a contribution than just holding the rest of it up. I'd been envisioning a design for a sort of flying tent shape: the lower part tucked in behind a concave panel, with the upper part splitting to make two points. Between the points would be a tower, but the real extension suggests other shapes. Concentration is hard to come by. A succession of parties and, for me, late nights have left me short on sleep. On top of that, the warming day has brought out lots of people, many of whom want to chat. The boy who played around my sculpture two weeks ago is here again, and the woman who works at the nursing home. This time she has brought her charges, who are introduced and watch with varying interest. A man I met some time back has brought his entire family. Such are the effects of publicity: I told all of them I'd be here today. By fits and starts I manage to get some sculpting done. Simon comes down at about the halfway point and tells me to give it up, it'll never look like anything. I pick up my tools, hang my head and skulk halfway to my bike. Everyone's a critic. In this case, he's almost right. The sculpture has design problems, and too many defaults. Why am I here? During a long walk to the restroom I decide to declare a holiday. Not every sculpture has to be serious art. Forget it. For this one I'm off the clock. In the afternoon the day turns into one the Chamber of Commerce likes to advertise. Some lacy clouds define the sky, bright agains blue, and warm sunlight floods the beach. Rich removes his jacket, quite an event for this ex-Nebraskan in December. People splash in the water, only ankle-deep because the Chamber of Commerce only cares about appearance. Long shadows tell me I'm out of time. The sculpture could use another hour or two of work but, this being winter, I don't have the luxury of time. Cleanup takes a long time. It has turned into a complex sculpture, with lots of little spaces and details. In particular, some convoluted elements on the north side came out well. As for the bottom I was partially successful. The sculpture is at least interesting all the way to the ground, and some parts sing. The finish quality is lacking, but the passersby seem not to notice.
Simon comes down for a last look after closing the tower. He has been watching through binoculars as the sculpture took shape. It gets lots of attention and many compliments from the sunset watchers; I'm in a daze of fatigue and attempt to acknowledge these gracefully. Simon goes on about his final rounds. Bruce comes by a few minutes later, on his way south from tower 26, as the sun is setting the horizon on fire. A big cloud far to the west looks like Captain Nemo's "Nautilus," with the sun taking the place of the saloon window. The submarine sails in a flaming sky, streaks of gold and grey offering contrast. High ripples glow pink. We just stand there and watch. Thin lower clouds turn purple over the mountains and slowly fade. Cold drives me into motion, but the show continues as I ride north. Somehow I manage to get home in one piece. | ||||||||||
|
Original: 98 December 27
All contents copyright 1998 by
Larry Nelson | ||||||||||
98h04rpt.htm 1999 January 2
