99P-10 "Gargoyle"

What I feel when a sculpture doesn't happen as planned goes beyond simple disappointment. Last Friday should have been a sculpture day but a migraine derailed that and I wound up working instead. Call it a charge of creativity or something, but I pretty much steam through the following week, hoping that will bring Friday closer. It would be even better to do something Thursday, but business prevents the early departure I wanted so I end up heading for the beach just as the tide has bottomed. I'll have to be quick.

Build number:	99P-10
Title:	"Gargoyle"
Date:	August 26
Location:	Venice Breakwater, south side
Timing:	1600 start; building time approx 2.5 hours
Height:	3.5 feet
Base:	2 X 2.5 feet, monolithic
Photography:	11 exp. RA135-24 w/WR (remnant of 99P-9 roll)

Inland is hot and sticky, like the Kansas I left for just that reason. I sneak out of work a little early, dodge trucks and tourists, and feel the air cool westward. The same air cools my legs and flows around my shoulders as, with my pack on my back, I roll toward the Breakwater. This feels good. There's good sand up to about 3.5 feet, which will give me more time. I scoop out a hole, fetch water, and dump it in and start piling. The water seeps out rapidly, both from the borrow pit and the growing pile. As I fetch another bucket, two women walk over to ask what I'm doing. "It's going to be a sand sculpture. Would you like to help?" That question is radical for me, but I'm desperate; even a small pile will have trouble keeping its layers together as fast as it's drying out. "Sure. Why not? What do we do, get some water?" "Yes, please. Just keep water in the borrow pit. Thank you very much; this helps more than you realize." Even with help it'll be better to keep this simple and small. The base is trapezoidal and the pile a single tapering block with a few small setbacks. "You're finished. Thank you for your help. It's really important with this type of sculpture to add new sand before prior layers dry out too much. With you carrying water I never had to stop piling, so the pile is more solid than I could have done alone. I really appreciate your help." They wander off across the sand, hand in hand, celebrating one's birthday. The breeze is holding steady. Kite time. The parafoil fits anywhere when folded and goes up easily in any reasonable breeze. "Do you have another tail like that?" "No, I'm sorry." "Our kite is just like yours." But it's all over the sky. It really does want a tail, and all parafoils have an attachment point. "Use a piece of seaweed." They try one, but it doesn't help much. "I think you'll need a longer piece." Having help also saved a lot of time so I can slow the pace. The pile has some interesting steps and bulges. It's quite solid for free-piled sand so I carve the northern face to a thin surface, hollowing behind with the Steel Finger. I have a new tool to try, an offset-handle spatula about eight inches long and 1.5 inches wide sold for decorating cakes. I saw Christel using one at Harrison and spent the next three years trying to find one like it. Was it worth the search? Any tool is a compromise, and this one's is that it is more flexible than I'd like. It's rigid enough, and lightness makes it easy to control. Keeping my knuckles out of the work is a big help and I use it more as the day progresses. Time equates to quality pretty closely. Time allows me to look at what I'm making and think about how the pieces fit. Rather than just running this panel down to the ground, what would happen if I cut it off, then brought this surface around under it, leaving the first one hanging? How about this space? Kind of boring, right? How about hollowing out behind, then continuing the line up the far side, defining it with the knife? That looks better. And I can continue the space through into that hole on the south side. Over here, on the east, how about a long slant down? I could cut this upper piece off, slanting inward in a facet above the slant. That would leave room for the space to connect to the west, allowing daylight into this area. The first wave into the borrow pit coincides with having no more sand to carve. Detail work and cleanup takes a while; this is a complex sculpture. It has a slabby side, a curving side, several spaces and an overall off-balance look that I like a lot. Water is winning the race with photography-improving clouds. I shoot the rest of the roll, choosing angles carefully because it has only a few exposures left. I really need to buy film. With the film gone I can enjoy the late afternoon. But the sculpture needs a little something. Right here, on the north. It lacks interest here, so I pick up a mussel shell and define a sharp curve. This doesn't help. Hmm. Fingertips smooth the cut, deepening it, then rubbing in a mirror curve above it. Now it cooks, just as the first wave surrounds the base. I'm pleasantly dazed. Sunlight warms my shoulders as the breeze relaxes. The kite comes down. The sculpture stands there, speaking silently to passersby. One group comes by, asking the usual questions. Why is it so important to know how long I worked on this? And yes, go ahead and take a picture. They dither, trying to get themselves together or something. A wave fills some shoes and undermines the bulging north side, which falls. They still dither. Cracks form in the rest of the sculpture, spread, and then the whole thing gently collapses, almost reluctantly. They photograph each other with the stump. I pack my kit and skate north into the soft breeze and sunset glow, leaving work's hassles and a long shadow behind me.

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