99P-13 "Standing on Its Own Leg"

"Larry, are you expecting a package?" "Yes. Is it long?" "It's addressed to me!" "Yah, I know, I messed up." "There are two boxes. One's about 14 feet long, the other's smaller." Allowing for Steve's hyperbole, that sounds like my new kite. "I'll come down in a few minutes to pick them up."

Build number:	99P-13
Title:	"Standing on Its Own Leg"
Date:	September 13
Location:	Venice Beach
Start:	1430; building time: approx 4 hours (aggregate with Larry)
Height:	4 feet
Base:	2 X 4 feet, curving
Photography:	about 20 exposures w/LX and 85mm

1. Faster! I keep getting the impression that Larry wants more, but he never comes out and says it. I'm not telepathic; the result is dithering that gets us to the beach at around 2P. Larry wants to shoot video of me riding my bike with the trailer tagging along. I show him how to run the camera, hoping I haven't forgotten anything. We shoot a couple of run-bys, then drag the load onto the beach. The construction crew is hard at work on the storm drain. A big excavator belching black exhaust, an air compressor, a pump trying to keep the water under control. It's all too much racket so I move along the beach, southward far enough to attentuate the disturbances. A nice fresh wind is rolling in over the rocks. The parafoil goes up smoothly. Then I start assembling the new kite. It's a compound, a triangular box with delta wings nine feet across. It has two spinning rainbow windsocks and flies on 150-pound test line. Rich helps launch it and it goes up smoothly, swaying gracefully, windsocks spinning gaily. I fill the biggest stuff sack with sand and hope it will hold together. The kite is a delight of color floating over the beach. By this time Larry has covered himself with sunscreen and pronounces himself ready to dig. The day's project is free-pile sculpture. He has been reading about it in Sandy Feet's book and is wondering about the relative merits of jiggling and patting. I pat, Sandy jiggles. "You want the sand to be fluid when you add it to the pile. If the edges of an addition crumble, crack, or stand up too stiffly you don't have enough water in it." I demonstrate, rapidly grabbing handfuls of sand and smacking it onto the pile. He follows suit, but is too slow; in the transfer from borrow pit to pile he loses too much water. "Faster! Faster!" Well, I'm supposed to be the irascible Master so some abuse is appropriate. Fractional seconds count here. "You have to be quick. And unafraid of becoming a mess." I have sand all over me, the result of all that patting. The results are clear: the north end of the pile, the part Larry's packing, has obvious borders between each handful of sand. My side is smooth. He despairs. "Faster! Faster! Milliseconds count!" He's working under a strong disadvantage: he's watched many other sand sculptors at work and wants to produce sculptures like theirs. The rabbit seems so far ahead in the race that it's easy to despair. I didn't even know other people did sand sculpture so I was allowed to develop in peace, slowly, building skills that formed the foundation for today's work. Besides, he has ambition. All I want is to make sculptures that feel good. 2. Ideas While Larry was working on his pile, I made another about five feet away. Its major portion ends up being a little over four feet tall; good sand allows this easily. The north end projects; the challenge will be to keep this from turning into the common tower-on-base sculpture. I deliberately spread the pile as it went up, then narrowed it again. The bulge yields an interesting panel that undulates from the ridge's top around a curve and upward to the tower's top. How do I keep the top from assuming the default needle's-eye space? Well, how about starting down here, cutting inward and around as it goes up? Then hollow out behind. Fine, as far as it goes. Wait. Here's a place for that space to connect to. The narrow tower vibrates as I work on it. The south end of the pile is very slender, the result of demonstrating the combined jiggle-and-pat technique that works for shaped extensions to the pile. This means there's not much sand that can be removed, but I can cut through and upward, leaving the undulating panel hanging and allowing low-angle sunlight into the interior. It's taking on a flowing, windblown look, like a tree at timberline or cloth wrapped around a pole. The lower part, extending to the north, is softer. "Larry, come here and take a look." "What?" "See these voids? You get those when the sand is too dry." "I know that. What I don't know is how to avoid it." It takes a delicate touch to carve the soft sand without taking too much away. Gentle rubbing fills the vesicles with loose sand, hiding them. The northern extremity develops into a sort of shoulder pad with a little arch. "You're getting awfully representational here. On the other side it's someone sitting down. On this side, it's still someone sitting down, but they have a problem with this knee." "I'll just have to do something about it, Rich." But the sand of the kneecap is too soft to take much more. Besides, we're running out of time. 3. Glowing End "Your box is on the ground." Rich walks over to relaunch it and I pull it in. The earlier strong breeze has faded gradually and the other kites are also showing signs of wanting to quit flying, so I pull them in too. The big delta-conyne resists; even the little speed added as I pull in the line makes it climb and pull hard. Its rainbow of colors glow. We have half an hour of light left. I work over my sculpture quickly with the brush. Rubbing out a few problems takes more time. The light is just right for photography so I call it good, sign it and get a camera.

It's a lovely evening. Both sculptures glow softly on the dark beach. Larry, as usual, isn't very happy with his. I like mine; it's a free-pile that looks like more. It has lots of movement and I wonder what's holding it together. I amble around, munching an apple.

Read Larry's 99-L report, with images.

Top of Page Library Human Touch Museum 1999 Sculptures 1998 1997 1996 1995 All contents copyright 1999 by Larry Nelson lord_chaos@compuserve.com -except- Sunset photograph copyright 1999 by Larry Dudock cerebi@aol.com Written 99 September 14 HTML conversion October 8

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