The Year in Sand: 2004

Community Comes, Community Goes

Rich and I were walking back to where my bike was locked, cold wind at our backs. It was about time; we were both cold. My glasses were covered with wind-driven salt. We'd been watching kiteboarders taking advantage of the wind and lack of surf, and taken one last walk around the sculpture.
    Now I was thrashed. Rich always helps me drag my equipment off the beach and we were almost finished. Off in the distance, walking along the bike path, someone waved at me. I took this for someone who'd seen me earlier in the day, waved back and kept pulling. One dark blob seen through beach-assaulted eyeglasses and post-sculpture fatigue looks much like another.
    Movement fills in where visual details are lacking. Except that the answer is impossible. He'd never have time for a trip to the beach. Eventually we got close enough to confirm.
    "Neil? What a surprise! You chose a good day to come out here." I introduce him, and David, to Rich.

The idea had been bouncing around in my head for a couple of years, and its roots go back farther. Virginia and I, in 1996, had been talking about ways to make my small sculptures stand out in a contest of larger pieces. Do more than one. I thought about a Zen rock garden, with sculptures replacing the rocks. From that it wasn't much of a conceptual step to tabletop "microsculpture." The multiple sculpture did happen but it failed to capture the contest-going audience. Microsculpture, however, had to wait.
    When microsculpture did make its appearance it was part of a single sculpture, the first one for 2001. One small area of the sculpture was carved into very small elements. It took forever to carve and even longer to clean up. It was also extraordinarily powerful, doing interesting things with the light that came through, and looking much different from anything else I'd done.
    Sculptures used to be purely structural. Straightforward engineering solution to enclosing space in hollow sand; anything that didn't contribute to structure was superfluous. Yet the process of making a sculpture was intensely enjoyable so I kept doing it, and I knew that repetition was deadly. That forced change. What do you do when the engineering problems are well solved, and you still don't want to quit? Design. Non-structural design elements.
    These started as mass hiding, a way to make a hunk of sand look like something other than it was: a piece left to hold the rest up. 1996 was the year I went over the divide. It was almost imperceptible but the change was definite.
    The change wasn't sharp, but rather an incremental easing onto the other slope, and will probably never be finished because engineering is such an essential part of sand sculpture. Physical constraints will always keep my scuptures small so I'm forced to find new ways to express ideas within roughly the same size block. Microsculpture turned out to be a real design delight.
    I soon became faster at making microsculpture, and as had other revolutions such as hanging panels and counterpoise it became one more tool in the kit.
    What I wasn't prepared for, also as usual, was how microsculpture would change my practice. It's actually very good engineering. Lots of little pieces are stronger than one big thin one, and this natually found application in sculptures made of bad sand.
    I'm an idealist. I'll go to great lengths to find and use the best sand on the beach. Why change? Crass commmercialism. When you're hired to do a sculpture and have to fit in with their schedule, you work with what's available at that time. MTV hired me to make a demonstration sculpture at high tide. Conditions were bad: short time, bad sand, and being required to have a completed sculpture instead of a pile of sand and an "Ooops. Sorry." It was a very good sculpture despite all that, and a very educational experience. Microsculpture to the rescue: it gave people something to look at between the heavy panels required to hold it together. The contrast between busy microsculpture and strong, thick, smooth slabs made for strength in both design and engineering, and the shadows surprising. It lit up like a lantern as the sun set.
    A couple of months later I was hired for a contest. One sculpture in the middle of a plot wouldn't look very good, so I did the first multiple since 1996 and microsculpture was the design element that connected the two pieces. It won the contest and two weeks later I did my first one-day 3-unit multiple; this almost killed me (I was sore for three days) and I had to have help to get the whole thing finished before the tide took it out, but yeow.     A howling success. Microsculpture in coarse sand and MTV-induced speed made it possible, and 2002 became the Year of the Multiple.
    Which leads us, finally, to the idea used in 04F-4. I started playing with light. Microsculpture's slots and small holes became quite pretty when backlit, or front lit with a dark interior. The problem then becomes one of getting light into the sculpture and then having it come out somewhere useful. Stripped to essentials this becomes two upright pieces with microsculpture between them.
    Warring against this simple idea is the basic fact that the purpose of sculpture is to make sculpture. If you're going to the beach you might as well make a day of it. Multiple sculptures were great for filling a day, until I got to winter. Then I discovered just how many ways there are to fail. Three mediocre sculptures in a multiple make . . . a mediocre sculpture that's even more obvious because it's big. Three good sculptures that don't relate to each other look like an argument rather than art. So, one simple sculpture isn't worth coming out for. Three simple sculptures lead to more problems than can usually be handled.
    The only way to simplify one piece is to shorten the time. Tide dictates the start time and I usually look for low tide in the morning so I have the whole day. Opportunity is, however, constrained by other Elements; with Mosaic wanting my brain intact on Sundays I could no longer sculpt on Saturdays. My Fridays off coincided with morning high tides. Either work fast, or work with coarse sand.

"Lord God, thank you for looking for hearts honest enough to say 'I need help. Change me, from the inside out.'" Erwin winds up his message but the phrase rings in my     mind. From the iside out. God is patient and kind. Such has been my experience as he turns my dead slabs into flexible suppports for a more graceful life.
    The start time ends up being 1100. My choice for this Friday had been between starting early with bad sand or later with good sand but having to work very quickly to get the sculpture off before Ralph rings down the day's curtain. What with one thing and another I didn't get out of the house until 1030.

"On Sunday, Pastor Erwin proposed we remove all clutter, history, tradition and religion from our pursuit of Christ."
    "What would this look like?"
    "What would the world look like?"
    "What would you look like?" Thursday 730PM at Huay's Life Group.
    This Email from Juliet was the first I'd heard of these questions; I was deeply into drawing while Erwin was speaking. The questions were irresistible and we had a spirited, respectful discussion.
    A week later the questions were "Do you think that you have an open dialogue with God? And how do you open your heart to Him?" Of course, I couldn't resist this one either, and being at the life group meeting until 2300 after more detailed discussion helped with the late sculpture start.
    Only a couple of months back I doubted that God could care about sand sculpture. Some argument ensued, along with interesting discussions with other people. All of them supported sand sculpture.

Ideas change through time. What was once at the edge of the possible is now routine. That could lead to boredome and doing the same thing more quickly, but I choose to take advantage of new technology and skill to change things. Be more conscious. Push the design.
    I model most sculptures in my mind before carving them. The key is to keep from slavishly copying the model because the model never contains all the details that the real piece has. The ideal is to sort out the good ideas from the best ones; with limited opportunity to carve, I need these "thought art experiments" to concentrate on the ones with the best chance of working.
    Behind the ideas are feelings and thoughts. Out of them grows the sculpture. I think about this as I pack the sand, the necessary first step. Gather my design ideas, prepare myself. When the form comes off there's not a whole lot of daylight left.
    The first departure in today's plan comes at the top. Planned as an open V I decide instead to make it closed, with braided microsculpture like that in last week's piece. Then it takes a curve off to the side, quite lovely.
    The sides themselves were intended to be rigid slabs, to contrast with the more detailed and flowing interior, but this gets away from me. They're still solid and substantial, but with subtle curves and an overall twist.
    Finally it's time for the interior. Carefully I carve the intial holes through the thin remnant sand, and then shape them. This calls for a delicate touch with the small tools I've made for the job.
    What ends the day isn't light so much as cold. Ralph is still well above the horizon when I sign the sculpture, and there are parts of it that could use more work, but I'm approaching the shiver limit out here in the cold wind.
    It's a very nice piece. It has diverged from the plan but all the changes are for the good. Except that it's too beautiful. It was supposed to have all the beauty on the inside, but the whole thing sings. Well, the inside is bound to affect the outside.
    "It's a good one."
    "Thanks, Rich. I really like it. Now let's get out of here before I freeze."
    "Right."
    We finish packing up and make our slow stiff way away from the wind.

A few minutes later, trailer and cart casually parked by the bike path, I'm back at the sculpture.
    "We got here just in time," Neil says. "How do you get those lines?"
    "The darker grains are finer, and settle more slowly. So, each time I add sand to the form I get a layer like that. They've always been there but only when I started brushing the sculptures in 1994 did I find them. I brushed just for texture, but found the laminae and that was it. I brush all of them now; the lines add depth."
    David asks "How did you start this?"
    "I wanted to make an arch. It took a couple of years to figure that out. The first one was small, but I made bigger ones. And then one day I had a pile of sand, ready to make another arch, and I was bored. If it had followed the pattern of most other things in my life I'd have quit there, but I already had the pile. I ended up making this little building, and it was fun. When I came out here in 1984 I came to the beach two or three times a week. After four or five I thought I'd run out of ideas, but it didn't happen."
    "Do you ever fear what will happen when you hit that point?" David does ask interesting questions.
    "I'm not very worried. In 1994, when I restarted, I'd made about 50 sculptures. Now I've done close to 400 and there seems to be no lack of ideas."
    "Why did you stop?" He must be getting me back for my questions last night at the life group.
    "The stated reason was that I'd found out how polluted the ocean was. It's cleaner now. The real reason is more complicated; I was giving up several things then, and sand sculpture just didn't seem important. After the restart its important increased."
    "This is beautiful, Larry."
    "It's called 'Inside Out.'" Neil gives me a close look. "Yes, related to what Erwin was talking about, by way of an older sculpture idea."
    "You should do one for the church," David says.
    "We discussed it. But it's a lot of work, hauling the sand in. Just impractical."
    "How about video? You could play that in the background while Erwin speaks."
    "I've thought about that, and talked about it with various people, but never gone anywhere with it. Smacks too much of self-promotion."
    "Oh, it's not that. You have a gift to share." Neil goes into prodding mode, with that mischievous twinkle in his eye.
    "I have all the equipment. All I need is a camera operator. And a sound man."
    "David, here, is a cameraman."
     As usual, I have found this out too late. He's going to New York in a few days. "Folks, can we get out of here? I'm freezing; I was underfed when I got here and cookies haven't kept up with trying to heat the entire planet with one body."
    "What are your plans?"
    "Hot food. Are you interested?"

Twenty minutes later we're in the Thai restaurant awaiting a hot pot of tom kah guy.
    "Have you thought about going to 'Origins,' Larry?" Neil asks.
    "Oh, yes. God has given me clear indications that he wants me to go to those."
    Neil looks confused. "Origins?"
    "Oh. Those one-word names. You said 'Origins,' I heard 'Elements.' 'Origins? Isn't that just for people, um, who, er" I'm struggling for coherent thought. Post sculptural. "Uh, leaders in other churches?"
    "You'd have to pay something, and take vacation, but you could go. You'd learn a lot, it'd help as you come on staff."
    "I hadn't thought about it in that regard. We had discussed doing sand sculpture there."
    "Really? That would be good!"
    "Jimmy Duke and I discussed it."
    "Wrong person. You need to talk to Alex. Do you have his Email?"
    "No." And if I had it I wouldn't use it. He's one of the main people. Self-promotion again; I've been waiting to see if anyone else expressed interest.
    "This is really good!" He's had some tom kah guy, and is now eating some of the eggplant with pumpkin that he ordered. "The tom kah guy is better than others I've had. Creamier." He sits back in the chair. "I'm tired."
    "So am I. David and I were up until 2300 last night at the life group. Interesting discussion."
    "Oh, yes?"
    "Yah. David stole a city bus one time and drove it around the block."
    "I prefer to say we borrowed it."
    "Somehow I don't think the police would have agreed."
    "Right," Neil says. "How'd you get away?"
    "They bailed out the emergency exit as the driver came back!"
    "I'd hoped that would stay in the life group."
    "It's too good a story not to tell."
    "It's out now." Neil smiles.
    "I was there because of the questions. A week ago Juliet sent me an Email with the questions and I couldn't resist. Last night's was just as interesting, basically how people experience God. Different people, different ways. I was fascinated. I appreciated the chance to learn more about you, David."
    "How were they different?" Neil asks.
    "Huay is fairly orderly about her contact with God. I follow various offbeat techniques, when opportunity comes along. David's observations were interesting, wondering about people who do things like praying for parking places."
    "Doesn't it seem trivial? I mean, doesn't God have more to do than that?"
    Neil smiles again. "He's a big God." The delivery was completely unremarkable, as if he's talking about potatoes. "I pray for the restroom door to be open, so I don't have to go get the key."
    "You really think God concerns himself with that sort of thing?"
    "It's not that God does it for me, it's more to keep me listening. Practice. If I learn to hear him in these little things I'll get better at hearing him in the bigger ones." Again the delivery is matter of fact, part of life, commonplace, logical. "I listen for his voice. 'Turn here for your parking place.' It's good practice in hearing and recognizing."
    All I can remember here is an event from mid-October, 1971. I'd been saved for maybe a week. What's all this about? Will God help in everyday things, like controlling the speed of the company truck as I drive past Smoky Hill Park? I try it. The experiment is inconclusive but seems to be positive. At least God didn't reject me. As usual, Neil has reshaped my world. I'd wondered about the parking place issue but not made up my mind.
    "I have to get going," David says. "I have to pack."
    He and some friends are driving to San Francisco. We walk up the hill to the car. A quick warm hug and they're gone, down the street, away.

Late that night I have a vivid dream. It starts vaguely, with lots of activity, and then I find myself eating excrement. The proper word comes to mind: coprophagy. I suddenly spit it out and look at it, disgusted. Then I'm in a different place and one of my bosses is yelling at me, that he couldn't find me.
    "I was right there." I point. "You walked right past me three times."
    The scene changes again. I'm with many co-workers in a room with an improvised stage. Lights, amps and such. Carlos Santana comes onto the stage, prepares himself and starts to play, and then he puts his guitar down and leaves. We wait for a time and then the group breaks up after nothing more occurs.
    "What happened?"
    "Some people walked out. Okazaki and other toadies. Santana was insulted."
    "With good reason."
    I awaken with clear memories and a clear understanding of the implications. For years I have been eating shit in order to stay out of confrontations. I just keep quiet at work and do my job, and people have gotten used to that. If they want to kick someone, they kick me. I have a strong belief that kicking stops with the kickee, but I am getting tired of absorbing this kind of thing. Larry the Appliance. It would seem that God is tired of me acting in this way; Jesus acted in ways that suited the situation. Anger, too. I banished that years ago. Another mistake.
    "Lord Jesus, if that's what you want, you're gonna have to do it. I have no idea how." Eventually I fall back asleep after taking another step into waking life.

"How long have you been with us?" Neil had asked at dinner.
    "Six months."
    "That's all? Well, it seems short, but long."
    "i know exactly what you mean. Quick months, but lots of action." Indeed.


Written 2004 March 20 as Email
Reformatted 2016 January 14 for the blog