07P-2 "Efflorescence"
Work? Forget it. Good sand, warm sun, low tide. The combination is rare for this time of year and not to be thrown away.
The complete report follows the images.
Note: I've removed the duplicate image and replaced it with the one that should have been there.
Strike While the Iron is Hot!
January is an unlikely time for free-piled sculpture. We've usually had a couple of serious storms by now, and the fine sand, being shy, has departed until summer's calm and kind skies allow it to return in the thick dark layers needed to make this kind of sculpture practical. This is why the year's first sculpture was free-piled, and conditions are much the same Wednesday.
Photographing free-piled sculpture is more of a challenge than it is for my usual upright formed pieces. An 85mm portrait lens works well for those. Step back, use a fairly large aperture to throw the background out of focus, and use the camera's dynamic range to handle the contrast. All I have to do is point and shoot. Free-piles, being typically more spread out, call for more technique, looking for the shot, light and shadow. The only problem is that while these recent ones have been free-piled they've not been all spread out. The 20mm wide lens I've been using is simply too wide. Canon has a solution but I've been trying to get one and not succeeding. Finally I looked at Canon's Web site and discovered a zoom lens that would cover the range I need. It's only a bit more expensive than the 35mm I wanted. Samy's has it.
Wednesday comes up warm. Calm, sunny. Quit thinking and go do it. The window won't stay open forever. I swing by Samy's and get the lens and then direct to the beach.
Build number: 07P-2
Title: "Efflorescence"
Date: January 3
Location: Venice Breakwater, south side
Start: 1115; construction time approx 3.5 hours
Height: about 3.25 feet
Base: about 7 by 2.5 feet
Assistant: none
Photo digital: EOS-1D w/24-70 zoom, walkaround and details, 33 images
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: none
Video: none
Equipment note: New EF 24-70 F/2.8L lens
I'm a bit early and have to wait for the tide to uncover the sand I need. There's a sweet spot at about the two-foot level. Conditions are much the same as New Year day: a few inches of coarse sand on top of the finer material. I scrape that off, having remembered to bring the #4 Vertical Roadgrader, and use the stuff to make a long domed base. I have no real plan but am sort of thinking of a sculpture derived from the New Year piece. Remembering that one's lack of base material I dig two borrow pits and combine the overburden in one big base between them.
Once assured of safety from overachieving waves I start piling the fine sand on top of the coarse base. I should have thought a bit more about what I was doing, but I was going with the capability of the sand. Very fine sand will retain water long enough to make wide layers with multiple pats, as I can get back to the first end before it has drained. So, the pile ends up looking a lot like a wall. This is another of the attractors that pulls a sculpture into the territory of the default. It does prove handy to have two borrow pits as the upper one is closer to the north side of the sculpture.
A wall isn't really three-dimensional. It's too long to get at the inside effectively, so it usually ends up being a collection of parts, or zones of different sculpture. It has distinct sides and ends, and it's hard to disguise that in the carving.
Still, I could be at work. Lots nicer to be here, under the sun, watching surfers catch waves that turn green-gold in the afternoon sunlight. Eventually the pile gets tall enough to become single-pat territory so I end up with the common tower-on-wall. Well, I'm still in charge. The design is my responsibility and even if it fails it's a nice day to be here.
I give the tower one last rounded layer and call it good. The overall shape has a nice dynamic lean to the east. I do the basic shaping and decide where to put the spaces.
Any potential design is subject to sudden revisions. Design by internal committee, or else just not knowing. The only way to find out what will work is to carve it. Suddenly the place I'd intended to put a long space looks better solid and I move the space around to the south. This has ramifications elsewhere but the sun won't wait while I dither. Get out the tool and start digging.
It's a nice shape and should allow some light through once I've done the planned microsculpture on the shaded side. When the time comes to do the microsculpture I immediately find a problem: the Largest Mussel Shell In the World. Right where I wanted to put the smallest hole. I dig the thing out because there's no working around it, and there I'm left with a crater that can only be hollowed further.
One thing I've learned is balance. In the old days I've have tried to make the large hole work with other microsculpture but it never looked right. This simply means that everything else just has to be in balance with this gaping void right at the sculpture's top. I carve the hard parts around it, shaping both space and sand. It's an interesting balance.
As the sun slowly arcs west I continue in the same vein. Larger spaces, but with interesting shapes. I hope. I can tell, too, that the whole thing needs to be picked up and rotated about 40 degrees, another outworking of its elongated form. I just can't get daylight through it. One last attempt goes awry because I don't have a triple-jointed cutting tool with a camera on the end. I just can't see what's going on in there and just about take out the sand I need for the contrasting arcs on the south side. They hang on with hope and, perhaps, pixie dust.
And that's about it. The piece is a rather uncomfortable blending of ideas new and old, but still manages to show some energy while working around the many small shells. A curve that in a formed and filtered sculpture would be constant-rate and free from lumps is here transformed into a drunkard's walk meandering between obstructions.
At least I have the small cosmetic brush to clean up the details. It helps a lot. I go on "crumb patrol" around the whole piece, which is an endless process. Free-pile sand dries out faster so the brushing itself dislodges more crumbs, which fall into the spaces and have to be cleaned out, leading to more crumbs. Sand sculpture is one long lesson in the limits on perfection of expression.
The day's "Chatty Cathy" award goes to the man from Italy who says he's a sand sculptor. He keeps telling me how to do it, and that most sand sculptures are surrounded by the detritus of their construction. He apparently doesn't see that I've cleaned up the whole site, smoothing out both borrow pits and shaping the long smooth ridge on which the sculpture sits. I'm glad when he and his daughter finally wander off.
Others are more friendly. Three women watch for a time and then say they like it. Various others come by to ask the usual questions.
I hadn't expected this much light. The afternoon seems to last forever. How long did it take? What time did I get here? I don't really know. It feels like a four-hour sculpture but I don't think it is. My time sense is as off as my space sense in reaching into the sculpture was. This encourages me to go ahead and plan a Friday sculpture. There'll be less time between revealed sand and sunset but it should be enough.
Finally as satisfied with the clean-up as I'm likely to be, I get out the camera with its new lens. The lens is an immediate hit. I can choose my perspective and then use the zoom to shape the final image. It pops into focus easily and I soon quit thinking about it and just get the images I want. First the contingency round, in case that one final grain gets too dry or too heavy and it all falls over. Then a more considered selection of angles when it seems the sculpture will stand for a time. Then I just wait for the slow change of light to reveal previously hidden parts, even as it hides others.
The shadow side is too dark. No spaces go all the way through except at the top of the tower. There are no stained-glass effects that were so delightful in the New Year piece. On the other hand, the arcs on the sunny side really help show off the smooth neighboring surfaces.
As a whole I'm not sure what to think. It has many hints of the past, which is rather frustrating. I want every sculpture to be a revolution and rock the whole world on its fulcrum. I know that's unreasonable. I don't have the skills for that yet.
I sit on the sand and just bask. Time seems to move so fast sometimes but today runs forever. The tall tower's long shadow drifts to the east and the light gets that buttery late-afternoon look. I shoot a few more images. I'd like to wait for evening roseate wash but am too tired and hungry. Packing up takes only a minute, and I walk off the beach.
The muse has broken out from the barbed wire and bomb craters. As if they'd never really been. I'm a fortunate man.
2007-January-4
The complete report follows the images.
Note: I've removed the duplicate image and replaced it with the one that should have been there.
Strike While the Iron is Hot!
January is an unlikely time for free-piled sculpture. We've usually had a couple of serious storms by now, and the fine sand, being shy, has departed until summer's calm and kind skies allow it to return in the thick dark layers needed to make this kind of sculpture practical. This is why the year's first sculpture was free-piled, and conditions are much the same Wednesday.
Photographing free-piled sculpture is more of a challenge than it is for my usual upright formed pieces. An 85mm portrait lens works well for those. Step back, use a fairly large aperture to throw the background out of focus, and use the camera's dynamic range to handle the contrast. All I have to do is point and shoot. Free-piles, being typically more spread out, call for more technique, looking for the shot, light and shadow. The only problem is that while these recent ones have been free-piled they've not been all spread out. The 20mm wide lens I've been using is simply too wide. Canon has a solution but I've been trying to get one and not succeeding. Finally I looked at Canon's Web site and discovered a zoom lens that would cover the range I need. It's only a bit more expensive than the 35mm I wanted. Samy's has it.
Wednesday comes up warm. Calm, sunny. Quit thinking and go do it. The window won't stay open forever. I swing by Samy's and get the lens and then direct to the beach.
Build number: 07P-2
Title: "Efflorescence"
Date: January 3
Location: Venice Breakwater, south side
Start: 1115; construction time approx 3.5 hours
Height: about 3.25 feet
Base: about 7 by 2.5 feet
Assistant: none
Photo digital: EOS-1D w/24-70 zoom, walkaround and details, 33 images
Photo 35mm: none
Photo 6X7: none
Photo volunteer: none
Video: none
Equipment note: New EF 24-70 F/2.8L lens
I'm a bit early and have to wait for the tide to uncover the sand I need. There's a sweet spot at about the two-foot level. Conditions are much the same as New Year day: a few inches of coarse sand on top of the finer material. I scrape that off, having remembered to bring the #4 Vertical Roadgrader, and use the stuff to make a long domed base. I have no real plan but am sort of thinking of a sculpture derived from the New Year piece. Remembering that one's lack of base material I dig two borrow pits and combine the overburden in one big base between them.
Once assured of safety from overachieving waves I start piling the fine sand on top of the coarse base. I should have thought a bit more about what I was doing, but I was going with the capability of the sand. Very fine sand will retain water long enough to make wide layers with multiple pats, as I can get back to the first end before it has drained. So, the pile ends up looking a lot like a wall. This is another of the attractors that pulls a sculpture into the territory of the default. It does prove handy to have two borrow pits as the upper one is closer to the north side of the sculpture.
A wall isn't really three-dimensional. It's too long to get at the inside effectively, so it usually ends up being a collection of parts, or zones of different sculpture. It has distinct sides and ends, and it's hard to disguise that in the carving.
Still, I could be at work. Lots nicer to be here, under the sun, watching surfers catch waves that turn green-gold in the afternoon sunlight. Eventually the pile gets tall enough to become single-pat territory so I end up with the common tower-on-wall. Well, I'm still in charge. The design is my responsibility and even if it fails it's a nice day to be here.
I give the tower one last rounded layer and call it good. The overall shape has a nice dynamic lean to the east. I do the basic shaping and decide where to put the spaces.
Any potential design is subject to sudden revisions. Design by internal committee, or else just not knowing. The only way to find out what will work is to carve it. Suddenly the place I'd intended to put a long space looks better solid and I move the space around to the south. This has ramifications elsewhere but the sun won't wait while I dither. Get out the tool and start digging.
It's a nice shape and should allow some light through once I've done the planned microsculpture on the shaded side. When the time comes to do the microsculpture I immediately find a problem: the Largest Mussel Shell In the World. Right where I wanted to put the smallest hole. I dig the thing out because there's no working around it, and there I'm left with a crater that can only be hollowed further.
One thing I've learned is balance. In the old days I've have tried to make the large hole work with other microsculpture but it never looked right. This simply means that everything else just has to be in balance with this gaping void right at the sculpture's top. I carve the hard parts around it, shaping both space and sand. It's an interesting balance.
As the sun slowly arcs west I continue in the same vein. Larger spaces, but with interesting shapes. I hope. I can tell, too, that the whole thing needs to be picked up and rotated about 40 degrees, another outworking of its elongated form. I just can't get daylight through it. One last attempt goes awry because I don't have a triple-jointed cutting tool with a camera on the end. I just can't see what's going on in there and just about take out the sand I need for the contrasting arcs on the south side. They hang on with hope and, perhaps, pixie dust.
And that's about it. The piece is a rather uncomfortable blending of ideas new and old, but still manages to show some energy while working around the many small shells. A curve that in a formed and filtered sculpture would be constant-rate and free from lumps is here transformed into a drunkard's walk meandering between obstructions.
At least I have the small cosmetic brush to clean up the details. It helps a lot. I go on "crumb patrol" around the whole piece, which is an endless process. Free-pile sand dries out faster so the brushing itself dislodges more crumbs, which fall into the spaces and have to be cleaned out, leading to more crumbs. Sand sculpture is one long lesson in the limits on perfection of expression.
The day's "Chatty Cathy" award goes to the man from Italy who says he's a sand sculptor. He keeps telling me how to do it, and that most sand sculptures are surrounded by the detritus of their construction. He apparently doesn't see that I've cleaned up the whole site, smoothing out both borrow pits and shaping the long smooth ridge on which the sculpture sits. I'm glad when he and his daughter finally wander off.
Others are more friendly. Three women watch for a time and then say they like it. Various others come by to ask the usual questions.
I hadn't expected this much light. The afternoon seems to last forever. How long did it take? What time did I get here? I don't really know. It feels like a four-hour sculpture but I don't think it is. My time sense is as off as my space sense in reaching into the sculpture was. This encourages me to go ahead and plan a Friday sculpture. There'll be less time between revealed sand and sunset but it should be enough.
Finally as satisfied with the clean-up as I'm likely to be, I get out the camera with its new lens. The lens is an immediate hit. I can choose my perspective and then use the zoom to shape the final image. It pops into focus easily and I soon quit thinking about it and just get the images I want. First the contingency round, in case that one final grain gets too dry or too heavy and it all falls over. Then a more considered selection of angles when it seems the sculpture will stand for a time. Then I just wait for the slow change of light to reveal previously hidden parts, even as it hides others.
The shadow side is too dark. No spaces go all the way through except at the top of the tower. There are no stained-glass effects that were so delightful in the New Year piece. On the other hand, the arcs on the sunny side really help show off the smooth neighboring surfaces.
As a whole I'm not sure what to think. It has many hints of the past, which is rather frustrating. I want every sculpture to be a revolution and rock the whole world on its fulcrum. I know that's unreasonable. I don't have the skills for that yet.
I sit on the sand and just bask. Time seems to move so fast sometimes but today runs forever. The tall tower's long shadow drifts to the east and the light gets that buttery late-afternoon look. I shoot a few more images. I'd like to wait for evening roseate wash but am too tired and hungry. Packing up takes only a minute, and I walk off the beach.
The muse has broken out from the barbed wire and bomb craters. As if they'd never really been. I'm a fortunate man.
2007-January-4
# © 1765 by Larry @ 
