99F-1 "Almost Yes"

Where does the creative spirit go when it's not present? Does it just get discharged and hide for a time, or does it sicken with misuse and disappear forever? Or am I just tired?

Build number:	99F-1 (lifetime start #157)
Title:	"Almost Yes"
Date:	March 26
Location:	Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start:	0900; building time 8 hours
Height:	4.7 feet
Base:	1.75 feet (cylindric)
Photography:	half a roll RA135-24, XA2; 20 minutes video w/ XL1 (includes stills)

After a year and a half, one protracted learning session and two complete rebuilds my Web site is finished in accordance with the original "museum" plan. Now what do I do? Without the need to finish it riding me I feel like a boat whose engine has fallen off. Maybe it's that developing for the Web is a singularly unrewarding enterprise for one who's learned to be a ham on the beach. In the three years I've had a Web "presence," only two or three people have sent Email about it. It's like being on the stage with no audience, although I know people are wandering around my site. In short, here I am putting all this effort into making something that has as little effect as a stone dropped into a mud bank. Why make anything? For a reward? To get paid? To learn? Weeks go by. Maybe I've just gotten lost for a time, putting too much energy into making things for others. The moon and sun have had a role in the paucity of sand sculpture. Good tides--low in the morning--gradually retreat and require earlier starts. The good days are actually in the middle of the week, but my employer tends to get upset when I ask for days off to do sculpture. Rather than start a sculpture in the predawn dark I simply wait. When the good weekend arrives it's a humdinger. Rain on Thursday washed the sky, leaving lots of vapor to soften the midmorning light as I ride south. I have no idea what will happen; there's little plan and less interest in planning. Kasey tells me by Email to be careful and take a jacket because it'll be cold, but today is spring with no apology: cool with promise of warmth. I have ideas, but they're all rehashing of things I've made before. This also had a role in not sculpting: the last few have looked a lot alike. When I can't tell which sculpture's photographs I'm viewing there's a problem, I think. All I really want from today's effort is a breaking of the cylinder. If, in addition, it has delicacy and openness so much the better. After dawn starts earlier in the year, riding south with the sun so far up the sky feels weird. It's a Friday so there aren't many people around. Yesterday's rain has left flow marks in the sand and large puddles on the bike path. Storm surf has eroded the beach, leaving bluffs, and I have to find a low spot to bump the bicycle down. Gently. It's falling apart, poor overloaded thing. Surprisingly, there's good sand. Usually storms rearrange things and leave only the coarse. I consider myself fortunate and go to work. It seems to take forever; the last time, Etc was here to help. I plod along, then notice someone putting something on my bike. The person waves; I go back to digging. Just someone looking at the photo book. The person turns into Rocket as he runs down the beach. He grabs the shovel, fills the buckets and hauls them up the beach. "I can't stay long, but I can carry some. The rain yesterday made me reschedule some jobs for today." "As my friend Román used to say, 'A little bit of love is still love.'" He looks at me. "A wise comment." He runs off for more sand. I go on packing and now the form fills more rapidly. Every bucket he carries is one I don't have to. A little bit of help is still help. "That's it. I have to bolt." "Thanks, Rocket. I appreciate it." The big tub is overflowing with sand; after the form is as full as I normally make it, I mix the leftovers with water and pile it on top as slurry, making a low mound extension. Patting this vigorously consolidates it well. Now is when we find out if I have any ideas left. Rich watches with interest as I take strong cuts at the top. I want to make it delicate, and perhaps have a sort of petal arrangement spreading upward from the base for the top to fit down into. The idea is a development of the New Year Day sculpture. I cut the top down and out, then cut back in making a bulge. This continues around most of the way around, with the lower edges at various heights. On the seaward side I leave the sand continuous, with the idea of having a smooth leg. The top doesn't become as delicate as I wanted, but it still takes on a good shape and interesting internal spaces. The holes are big enough to get my hand inside to clear out sand, which hasn't happened in a long time. It has an airiness that I like, but not as much as I wanted. "It's a higher-class crowd than usual." "Yah, Rich, they've been nice." One group in particular stands out because of their variety. One Japanese woman, four or five men from India, Pakistan and other places. "I was thinking that with it being spring break season there'd be a crowd problem, but it hasn't happened." A few more people than normal but the rowdies have gone somewhere else. The day's best development is on the landward side. One of the tucked-in parts of the top comes up and wraps around from south to north. A strong curve comes up from the base to connect with the wrapped element's overhanging free end; below the free end is a tunnel and slot going toward the sea and the space inside the top. Another hole goes through between the curving support and the top element. It's discontinuous, but still carries the eye nicely. Time and hunger force coarser work toward the bottom. The day is longer, but some of it was unusable. Making virtue of necessity, I carve part of the lower section to look like a big chunk on which the rest of the sculpture stands. Most of the upper parts overhang this basal block. "This could use more development but my judgement is questionable. I chose the wrong bag for lunch; it's all moldy." One pear doesn't make for much staying power. "Have some cashews." "Gladly, Rich. Thank you." It looks a little top heavy, but has decent balance and some very nice elements. There are too many defaults around the bottom; it needs a lot more time but there isn't any more. It needs more thought, but that process gets me embroiled in questions I can't answer. Why make anything at all? What's the point? I don't know why these questions are coming up now, but I have no answers. In the past it has been good enough simply to make sculptures. Maybe I've become too concerned with the audience. In its primary objective, the sculpture is largely a success. There is very little left to suggest that it started as a cylinder. Parts hang off in air or tuck in behind others, and the east-west dimension is longer than the north-south which makes for interesting changes as I walk around. The top needs to be lighter and more open. At least it shows that I'm not washed up just yet. More to the point, it has been a fun and beautiful day. Vapor near the horizon gradually dims the sun, making for a soft glow that rewards photography and videography. "It's time for me to go. A friend of mine is in an orchestra and I want to go to their concert tonight." "OK. Thanks for coming, Rich." He leaves me to the beach and the sunset watchers. I run the video camera as the last oblate spark goes beyond the horizon, painting red onto the waves. The sculpture stands, collecting light, softly radiant. Watching the videotape while copying it for Larry suggests some things to try next time, and I begin to feel some excitement about the possibilities. With thought I might be able to get rid of those default shapes at the bottom.

Top of Page Library Human Touch Museum 1999 Sculptures 1998 1997 1996 1995 All contents copyright 1999 by Larry Nelson lord_chaos@compuserve.com Written 99 March 27, amended March 28, May 7 HTML conversion May 7

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