99F-13 "Return to Coarse"

Cooperation and Frustration The way to get things moving is to be ready myself. When Larry arrives I have the trailer connected, sign attached, equipment loaded. "How do you want to proceed?" "I think I'd like to take your suggestion. Along with watching you work, I'd like to work on a sculpture and be able to ask you about tool use." "OK. The short form will work for that, and not be so intimidating." I make final arrangements, strap everything into place. "Meet at the usual place?" "Yes."

Build number:	99F-13
Title:	"Return to Coarse"
Date:	September 15
Location:	Venice Beach
Start:	1200; building time: 6 hours (see notes)
Height:	2.4 feet
Base:	1.6 feet, cylindric
Photography:	one roll RA135-24 with LX and 85mm, video with XL1

1. Fast or Slow There's enough wind to launch the delta kite. It flies a lot better now that I know how to assemble it, courtesy of Into the Wind's "Pocket Guide to Kite Flying." It floats, basket tails spinning polychrome. The previous high tide was relatively low, making for dry sand where we need to build. This just requires more water. The bigger problem is the amount of seaweed in the sand. I'd hoped to avoid filtering, but not today. I'm at work on the first of the day's planned two foundations when Larry walks up. Short-form piles are quick and easy. It should take about 45 minutes to make. The first one has a few distractions, the major one being a woman attracted by the new sign on the trailer: "www.sandhands.com by Lord Chaos," a gift from Larry. "You know I'm called "Lady Chaos." I've never seen her before. "I didn't know." "Yes! I write poetry, children's stories and enjoy life." That's pretty clear from the way she spins around, enthusiastic. Still, this pile shouldn't have taken an hour and a quarter. For the second, I take over. With Larry filling the filter as I tamp, the form fills in about half an hour. That's quick; he was putting a lot of sand in the filter, making for thick layers and fewer tamping intervals. Anyway, now that's done and we can do what we came for. 2. Demonstration Short form sculpture is hard to make beautiful, at least by my standards. The problem is its stumpy shape, only about ten inches taller than it is wide. The long form is naturally gracile, being over twice as tall as wide. Lower engineering demands offest the problem, but it's still an experiment. I've only made six or seven of these. As I start carving, Larry sets up the video camera. His objective is to watch me carving and get some idea of how I control the tools. I really wonder how much he's getting out of all this. My problem as a teacher is how involved I get with the sculpture. No matter how I try to keep myself distant so as to perhaps teach something, the sand takes over. Larry sits nearby with the camcorder running. "Now I just need to come up with questions that haven't been asked a thousand times." That's his problem. MIne is to make this shape work. I start with an overhanging edge below which the sand comes back out in a bulge. "I have it." "Yes?" Don't leave me in suspense. I start to define a rib going inward under the overhang. "What is Román to you as you work?" Well, there's nothing like starting with a real doozy. I sent him a story about my relationship with Román, but never heard any comments. This led me to believe he'd simply ignored something that became uncomfortable. "I gather he was about your closest friend." "Yes." No way to avoid it. "He and I met when I was a fundamentalist Christian; we came together to resist an overly authoritarian church." I go on carving as I tell the story. The bulge develops into a swinging leg that wraps around to the north and upward. This shows an advantage of the short form: I can see the pile's top, making it easier to visualize the rib coming in under the overhang, bending over and around to continue down, becoming the swinging leg. 3. Bending For the first few years I made sand sculpture I worked alone. Who else would do this? Eventually I learned that there were even contests for sand sculptors but they were always someplace else. I just kept working, following my own desires. Technology and skill grew as a side effect of expressing ideas, and the ideas became more complex as the infrastructure developed. Now I'm aware of the larger world of sand sculpture, contests, professionals, judging criteria and arguments, but nothing has changed. No one else works as I do and the number of non-representational sand sculptors can be counted by a first-grader. Larry started under a heavier burden. He had attended contests before he started sculpting so he knows what's possible. He knows what he wants to do. He's constantly comparing his sculptures to a well-formed ideal and coming up short. Having watched him, I think one place to work on is tool control. As he starts work on his sculpture I watch. "What I want to do is start with a big concave surface. It'll have a hole, going through to the other side." He starts carving with the #2 Loop. "Is this the best way to get started?" "For concaves, I use this." I hand him the big Pismo clamshell. "It makes a nice smooth surface and carries away its own waste sand." It's easy to talk about being decisive and making the tool follow one's will. Making it happen, developing what Colin Fletcher calls "feel-how," is more difficult. It requires attentive practice. "Now here, I want to make my own 'pregnant arrow thingy' but this doesn't look right." "Try this." I take up the small knife. "Hold it at an angle, cut inward behind the element. Like this." I angle it inward, start the cut and finish it while wrapping around the lower end of the arrow. Larry picks up the tool and starts his cut. "No, you need to angle it inward more." He starts again, repeating the earlier move. I lightly push his wrist to angle the blade. "Like this. And hold the angle as you round the end." After a few more repetitions he starts getting it. He's in a difficult position. When was the last time I asked for help? That's another story. The key here is to offer help without overwhelming, or making the student feel stupid. To me, there's a big difference between ignorance and stupidity. Ignorant people learn. Stupid ones don't even ask, or don't listen. 4. Coming to Life The last good short-form sculpture I made was three years ago, as a test for my sculpture at the World Championships. It had nice elements but was too cylindric. I'd like today's to be more dramatic. I've tried tapering, but the pile is too short to look graceful so I'll just concentrate on elements and unity. The original overhang comes over and ends against the swinging leg's broad west face. The leg itself develops a springy arch and splits near the top, the lower portion curving around to the south. Underneath all this is a big hollow. The sand isn't very good but the pile is short and I have my fingers crossed. It's develping nice rhythm. I hope it holds together. The east side gets a vertical leg to support the upper end of the swinging leg; inside that I cut through to a space behind the overhanging arch's southward extension. Below that I chicken out and just decorate the space. "You're getting conservative in your old age." Rich is always encouraging. "Well. Umm. I like that internal space. It doesn't need a hole." "If you want to keep that, you could go under." We have before us a proposition that a space is needed. The discussion of this matter should consider all of the following. 1. Is a hole desirable for the design? 2. If yes, is there a space to which we can connect it? 2B. Will the proposed space look good from this end also? 3. If yes to the above, is the hole feasible from the engineering standpoint? 4. If feasible, what shape should the space take? Considering all of the above, I take sole responsibility for deciding that a space is desirable and feasible. "Rich, you talked me into it. How are you fixed for safety shots?" "If you're that lacking in confidence, I'll shoot a round. But you'll have to wait; I have to change film." "You know that old statement about time and tide." I pick up the knife and outline the space. When finished I'm almost out of daylight, and it does add to the composition. The sculpture stands. Maybe I need help after all. 5. A Tailless Breeze Soft sunlight floods the beach. The sun glows behind thick vapor borne on a gentle wind. I've removed the tails from the parafoil and the big compound and they float gracefully. The delta still has its spinning baskets. All three change position languidly, forward and back, side to side. I finish my sculpture while there's still some direct, warm light. Larry's still working on his as I sign it. Kneeling is necessary for photography. "It's an order of magnitude better than any other short form I've made." "Yes. Even if you're talking binary." "Well, I've not done that many of these." "It looks like the top of a taller piece. It just continues right on down into the ground." Rich is right.

I pull down the kites and put them away. Larry finishes his sculpture and photographs it. I try to resist the impulse to improve his landscaping but that doesn't last long. It's one of his better works and deserves more than the casual clean-up he gave it. "Why are you doing that now that I'm finished photographing?" "It's not my sculpture. You're responsible for landscaping." I go on, smoothing the base, then throwing sand over it to provide rough contrast to the smooth sculpture. "I wanted to give you an idea for your contest piece next week. See how the randomized sand makes the sculpture stand out better?" "Yes." Maybe the problem here is that Larry wants more direct involvement. I tend to watch, ask no questions, try things when no one is looking. I really wonder just how effective I've been as a teacher today. "Did you get anything out of this?" "Yes. I think the sculpture speaks for itself." The sun fades into vapor. I make the final dark-side photographs, then call it quits as the camera rewinds its film. "Do you have a bicycle pump?" "Yes." I carefully stop the long rig. Two women and a flat tire. "Can you hold my bike?" "Yes." "Oops. My pump is set up for Presta valves. I wonder why." "We have a pump. Maybe you can figure out how to make it work." It's one of those tiny, tricky things, but I can see how the parts are supposed to fit in the wan streetlight. It works. "I can take over now. Thank you!" "You're welcome. Have fun!" I roll on north, arriving home with no more incident. "I was getting worried." "No problem." I lean the bike against the fence as Larry walks over. "I stopped for a mercy mission."

View construction images of Larry's 99-M.

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