99P-9 "Wavebreak 3: Transatlantic"

Every grade of sand has its practical limit, measured by its water-retention time. If I don't get new sand added before preceding layers dry, the new material doesn't flow well to fill in gaps. Today's sand isn't quite so good as what was here Thursday and that, coupled with the size of the pile, makes trouble even with Mirjam providing a steady supply of water.

Build number:	99P-9
Title:	"Wavebreak 3: Transatlantic"
Date:	August 14
Location:	Venice Breakwater, south side
Start:	0600; building time: approx 3.5 hours
Height:	3.25 feet
Base:	2.5 X 6 feet, double triangular plan
Photography:	14 exp. RA135-24 w/WR

The morning overcast provides just enough glow for me to see as I roll through still damp air. These early starts are a little ridiculous, but better than the alternative of no sculpture at all. Even the Boardwalk is quiet, giving little indication of the transformation it will undergo in three hours or so. More and more, free-pile sculptures are coming to life as formed ones, the only difference being the shape of the pile. I've been thinking about today's, planning how to make the shape I see in my mind. It requires a diamond-shaped base, with the two triangular portions offset. The breakwater is well stocked with fishermen taking advantage of flat surf and low tide. I dig in with the big scoop, finding coarse sand under four inches of fine so I move a few feet down. The sand improves somewhat and the spot represents this moment's compromise of building time and sand quality. "Larry?" The transatlantic link closes. "I saw someone digging and carrying water, and thought it had to be you." "Hi, Mirjam!" We've spoken only by Email, introduced that way by her friend Steve. She has seen the images, now she wants to see a sculpture in person. All the way from Holland. "Can I help?" "If you want to. The most important part of this process is water. You can use the other scoop to fill the bucket." I promptly scale up the sculpture. After an hour, timed by Mirjam, it becomes the biggest free-pile I've ever made. The borrow pit is huge and the pile massive. Free-piling is easier just after the tide has dropped because the water is still in the sand, but the advantage of this later kind is that the less-saturated beach is firmer. Trade-offs. Now I just have to figure out how to translate this intimidating mass of sand into my mental sculpture. The long western ridge is easy: a long involute from beach to top, with enough overhang there to give it some tension. For once, the build-to-shape technique worked well enough that this only has to be smoothed into shape. It's more difficult on the east. I don't have enough sand toward the top to do the bellied-sail shape I wanted. A new plan grows and I cut the end back and then some more, making a curl up and back with a hollow inside. Mirjam is quiet. Being more of an interpersonal follower than leader, I don't say much. Besides this, the sculpture is beginning to come alive in a way that usually doesn't happen with free-pile and I'm being sucked into the pile. Continuing to work on the east end I carve out a vaguely wave-shaped panel that reaches upward toward the top and tucks into the curl on the east. This part wraps down and tucks into the curl's continuation at the very bottom of the sculpture. The sculpture's first space is at the top, where the western curve wraps around and leans against a piece on the south. The southern piece becomes a series of slanted inward cuts, giving it a blocky appearance that contrasts well with the smoother piece next to it. More small spaces go through to help define the shapes, and big gulf opens up underneath. The whole assembly becomes a strong composition of delicacy and mass. It needs more time but the tide is unpersuaded. I frantically clean up and finish. A few pockets dug into the beach help blend the sculpture with its environment and broad arches through the western ridge give that side good movement. When a wave crawls into the borrow pit I get the message and pick up my camera. "Which angle do you like best?" The world comes back into focus. Walking around to the southwest, I point. "I like this. It has a combination of strength and delicacy, small elements and large, that looks good." "I like this too." The whole sculpture is unlike anything I've made, coming much more from a big-sculpture outlook than the usual free-pile quick hit. Call it a spread-out formed sculpture. It has a strong presence. I wait too long for my surrounded-by-water shot. As I trip the slow shutter, the eastern curl falls into the wave's backwash. "Do you always wait for the end?" "No. My sculptures don't fail gracefully, unlike some others." But this one makes me a liar, with pieces falling slowly, relaxing back onto the beach. Cracks form, widen slowly, and then the piece opposite to what I expect falls off. Steve walks up just as the top collapses, leaving ruins that are now unrecognizable. He gets a couple of photos of Mirjam and me, and then we just sit there watching the waves. I'm still pretty well gone, feeling nearly as blown out as I do after a big sculpture. Well, this one was big. Just wasn't vertical, but I still had to work very fast. "I'm thinking about lunch." It's traditional for me to buy lunch for helpers, but Steve is more interested in sandwiches on the deck of his apartment building, which turns out to be a good idea. Although right on the boardwalk, it's a separate world where the surf is louder than people. We part on the boardwalk. I make my dazed way north to body-surf, still feeling the sand under my hands.

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