LS209

There's a rabbit runnin' down the road "Rabbit! Where you goin'?" "Oh, young brother! Get out of my way! There's a hound dog close behind!" A hound dog close behind A hound dog close behind me.

Transcandent The elements are simple, voices and hammered dulcimer, but they combine in shining beauty. Singing of animals mythic and real, people remembered and lively the people power this music into a kind of beauty that is very rare. As I walk south pulling my silly-wheeled cart their songs ring in my mind. Late afternoon sunlight paints the beach. Every bright shell is made of gold. My sand cache casts a long shadow toward the lifeguard tower; the beach is by no means required to provide any particular grade of sand but the gift is there even after the morning's storm. When I arrive back home I load the trailer. The form has been repaired again, this time using silicone caulking to glue the slipsheet in place. Spray adhesive didn't hold well. For good measure I spray the inside with silicone lubricant, for mold release.

Build number:	None (complete construction failure at 99%; lifetime start #209)
Date:	October 28
Location:	Venice Breakwater, on the flat
Start:	0730; elapsed time: 9.5 hours
Height:	4.4 feet
Base:	1.75 feet, cylindric
Photography:	None
Videography:	Atmosphere; safety 360 walkaround

1. Feel Heavy clouds block the sun. With buckets already on the beach and the sand already hauled the trailer's load is light. We move easily through the damp dawn. One cloud off to the west glows pink just beyond a long dark roll of vapor. The sea ranges from a blue-green sheen to slate under the roving clouds. The cache is untouched. I level the stump of last week's sculpture and erect the form on top of it, and use some of this already filtered sand to start the pile. Trash lines the shore like a bathtub ring. After the beach rake makes a few passes it's better, but groups of people come along with trash bags to pick up more. I, bucket in hand, help out, in keeping with the Unlitter Pledge. There's plenty of trash for everyone. 2. Taste The filter slips from my grasp. Splash! I get a faceful of salty, gritty water. 3. Quick I don't know how they cycle their legs so rapidly. The little shorebirds run back and forth, probing with their beaks in the sand, following the flow and ebb of waves. A splash alerts me; looking up I see a pelican about fifty feet away. It waits, floating, then as a small wave breaks beneath it, it lifts and then lunges. No joy. Another wave, another lunge, and this time success. It points its head upward and transfers fish from pouch to throat. Another bird, long of neck, deep of draft, floats just off the beach to the south. Suddenly it dives. Gone for thirty seconds, there's no predicting where it will come back up. 4. Slick Two hours and the form is full. This sand-cacheing process helps in more than one way. After the requisite drain time the form peels away cleanly, leaving a pile free of cracks. Hooray! When I get a new form made I'll equip it from the outset with a slipsheet. 5. Touch Wonder Other people go to church. Or perhaps they read books, or get together to talk about it. I come to the beach and make it. The Ooolites come together and sing it. Each song is imbued with life unadorned. Every note is in the right place but not in conformance with pop music's rhythm machines. The singers count by nature's time, feeling their way to lively synchrony. When Pegasus flies, I feel it. 6. What do I do now? Barb said her favorite sculpture on the tape was 99H-1. "It looks like a flower, opening upward." Well, I like it too and have thought for a long time of a reprise. I look at the pile and plan. Not this time. I'm sidetracked by an even older idea: a broad panel with small holes in it. This goes as far as carving the left edge of the panel but after that newer impulses take over. What started as a place to put holes develops into a full-height panel with its own design sense. The Sand Knife, a tool that fell into disuse following the advent of the Super Slicer, makes carving the subtle curves of this broad panel easy. The edge of the Sand Knife's blade is centered within the circle of my gripping fingers around a well-shaped handle. I designed it this way on purpose, thinking it would make the tool easier to use. The problem was that, while carving, my knuckles ran into the sand. To solve the problem I built the Super Slicer, whose offset blade puts steel against sand with no interference from hands. Both tools are the products of specific evolutionary forces. Given my tendency to make tall cylinders, and to approach them from the side, a knife-like tool is logical. Other sand sculptors, approaching rectilinear blocks of sand from straight on, use mason's trowels for similar tasks. As with any other speciation my isolation has also had an effect. I figured this all out on my own, starting with a tent stake that acted like a knife. For broad cutting purposes I used the Super Slicer. Lack of control didn't seem to be a problem. While working on 00F-23 I, on a whim, used the Sand Knife instead for the job of tapering the pile's top. Without thinking about it very much I carved the pile smoothly, able to taper it delicately downward. Today's experience repeats that, and this time I notice it. There's a price to be paid for that offset blade. When carving with the Super Slicer, or any other offset-blade tool, it has a tendency to dig in. If anything slows the blade the momentum of my arm continues pushing and the tool rotates around its edge, which angles the blade into the sand. It digs deeper, then stalls. The Sand Knife's centered blade is free of this, which enables delicate work, and becomes a delight to use. Why did it take me so long to find this out? The new panel rises in a broad curve that wraps gently around the top to the right. Beyond the vertical edge is a gentle saddle across the sculpture's top, then another edge and a panel that drops concave halfway down. Well, that takes care of one-third of the pile. 7. One for Barb Now, over here beside the original panel, maybe I can work in that big concave panel from 99H-1. It'd fit, but that abrupt end just doesn't excite me. So, rather than ending, it curves back and goes in behind the top of the original panel. The side benefit is room for holes. It's also dramatic, and I'm feeling the first twinges of worry. Yes, it's good sand and it's counterpoised. But what's holding that seriously overhung bulging panel on there? 8. Video "Do you mind if I take a picture?" "Not at all." This man looks fairly serious, taking time to frame each shot. "Are you a professional photographer?" "No. I scout locations for commercials, and photograph them for the people in the office." The day is long and lovely. Brilliant clouds float in the cool blue sky, puffy low cumulus under mare's tails. It feels good to just sit here and chat, with my back to the sculpture. "I have a project in mind, and was wondering if you'd be interested. I want to find five or six interesting Venice people and follow them for a day, making a documentary. I met a man on the boardwalk who wrote a history of Venice." "Jeffrey Stanton. It's a good book." "That's him. Sour attitude from having to sell books, but I think beneath all that he's interesting." "I'm definitely interested. It's the kind of video I'd watch. I'm tired of today's MTV-style shows: lots of flash, no content." "It's driven by money. The studios justify it by saying that's what the audience wants." "But how can they know? It's easy to justify that thinking when there's no real alternative. With my stories, and now with video, I've discovered people are interested in all kinds of things. It just has to be done well." This takes work, I think, and few are willing to put that much effort into it. "Yes. Now we have some alternative ways to get the word out, so perhaps productions like this can become known." "I even have some resources I could add, a camcorder, some editing equipment. This is the sort of thing I'd really like to do with video. The problem is that I'd rather do sand sculpture." "I understand. Well, I'll keep you posted." "I'd better spray this thing." He rises and long legs carry him away north. 9. Carving The day is no longer long. It is time to move some sand. Curves go down and around. Another comes up and behind, experiments in making things continuous. One big piece is a problem. It looks like things I've done many times before. Now, don't give up. What else can we do? I start with a long curve down and around, the separation made by carving valleys above and below, then rubbing the sand between into a nice curve. The upper end is cut away from its support, appearing to wrap around and out, then back into the sculpture. On the other side a long slot develops, one side divided from the other by about a foot and a half of vertical open space. Inside the space are lots of intersecting edges; these require mindful carving. Don't take sand away until I've looked at it from all angles. 10. Volume X2 Someone asks why I spend all this time on something that's temporary. Before I can answer someone else does. "He does it because he likes doing it." I'm astounded. "You're the first person to figure that out." He goes on to point out what various parts of the sculpture mean. Some of it is even accurate. "I've read the questions and answers sheet." Well, that explains several things. I don't believe in magic, mind reading or sculpture reading except in broad terms. What's interesting is that this man has gotten the broad terms right. In all the years I've been doing this he has come as close as anyone to finding the heart of the process. "I'm a salesman." That explains even more. He gathers his family and they amble off northward. "Rich, there goes today's Chatty Kathy Award winner." "Yes, lots of words and lots of volume. But he was entertaining!" 11. Safety I finish carving the slot and environs. "That leaves just one place to carve." I've developed about as much as I can, and we're running out of daylight. "I'm going to shoot a round of safety video." Quite a crowd of bystanders has developed. This is unusual for a late October day, especially after a storm. They're very supportive. It is a spectacular piece. I work my way around with the camcorder, thinking it not really necessary, but tape is cheap. On the north is the last spot that wants carving, a triangular panel below the rolled curve. I have to step over a little push car, then dodge some people and a group of children working on a sculpture. 12. Last Cut The Powerloop (nee Loopfinger) makes short work of the basic carving in that triangular panel. It has become a space, and I punch it through to the lower central space. Daylight! I open it up some more, then shape the edges to make the parts flow. A red-haired woman watches, fascinated, as I work. She asks interesting questions. "That's it. Finished. Time for clean-up." This is going to take a while; although I tried to finish things as I carved, there are still many rough areas. I put the heavy tool in the tub and start to pick up the trimming tools. 13. Statistics Something alerts me. Maybe the first thump of a fallen chunk of sand. I turn around in time to watch the continuing failure along with the stunned audience. There are several more heavy thumps; the north side collapses and is followed by the south when its support goes away. The ground is littered with chunks of sand and only two needles remain, each about two feet tall. The red-haired woman is aghast. Rich is surprised. "Aren't you crushed?" "Disappointed, yes, but not all that surprised. I pushed this one very hard." "I don't know how you can be so philosophical." "I was overdue. Call it a rebalancing of the Universe; historically I've lost about 10% but this year it has been only about half that." 14. Winding Down Four children go to work on the ruins. A classic illustration of committee work, this ends with everything being about as flat as possible. A little boy takes over after they leave, making small knobs and then covering them with dry sand. He's very serious, lecturing me on how to make balls by packing the damp sand and then covering them with dry sand. The afternoon is lovely. A steady breeze powers a few sailboats on the sparkling ocean. Clouds cover the Santa Monica mountains and more bands of them are under the sun to the west. "I think it was that leg on the north side. I should have moved the hole over an inch." "I couldn't really tell what happened." "But if I'd moved the hole then the other leg probably would have failed. There just wasn't enough sand." "It was actually my fault for stopping on the 13th frame." The boy leaves when his family calls. Rich departs. I sit down and lean against the loaded trailer. Low surf beats against the rocks, raising an occasional rainbow in spray. Fatigue descends along with cold. I drag the trailer to the lifeguard tower and chat with Tim for a minute. Michael arrives, with a warm hug for my tired shoulders. "Well, you're a little too late. But it's still a beautiful day." "Yes. Nice for a bike ride, too. We had Parents' Day at the school and I just got away." If a sculpture is going to fall over, it should go when this one did. The Idea was there, just wanting clean-up. I ride north in a pleasant daze under the spectacular sky. Visitors: Tim (lifeguard on duty) Rich Michael (after failure) Quote is again from "Bushy Tail," a traditional folk song on Malcolm Dalglish's "Pleasure" CD.

Top of Page Library Human Touch Museum 1999 Sculptures 1998 1997 1996 1995 Original content copyright 2000 by Larry Nelson lord_chaos@compuserve.com

ls209rpt.htm 2000 November 4
Redesigned, with new and resized images and much travail, November 5