Who knew? Sometimes you name the summer and sometimes the summer names itself. This summer started out as "The Summer of Free" in the hopes that we would be able to find free adventures all summer. The summer budget is a mess here. There's a big Costco trip right before I get my last paycheck at the end of the semester and then we have a contest to see how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches we can eat until I start getting paid again in the fall. The Summer of Free sounded pretty good in May.
And we had some free or very cheap fun over the summer. Farmer's markets and lots of breakfasts at home, lots of state parks with cheap admission. Free art museums with only a couple of dollars for parking. Waterfalls, four wheeler rides and hikes. All qualified for The Summer of Free.
But in my last weekend of summer break it occurs to me that I made a lot of sand sculpture this summer. I was lucky to have spent 3 weeks on the sand with time to create. So while I made a few steel sculptures and finished several new drawings and even read a good number of books, this summer was definitely "The Summer of Sand Sculpture".
"The Summer of Sand Sculpture" started out properly enough with a sand sculpture class at Litchfield Beach, SC. We started our week off with a group sculpture. I mostly supervised.
As the students took to the new material I was able to play around a bit too. I made a functional wall to protect Slagle's first sculpture and eventually turned it into a long weenie dog.
He was tough enough to survive high tide and later that day I turned him into a skeleton weenie dog...but I don't seem to have a photo of that one.
The next day was a crazy bird skull in the mid tide range.
Another day allowed for a weird sand head.
Side view of weird sand head.
Collaborated with Slagle for a cool spiral death skull at Huntington Beach State Park.
And on our last day we made a huge group collaboration which resulted in a very large, very strange beach creature.
My contribution was the tighty whities.
A couple of weeks later it was family beach vacation. The sand skull is a mandatory part of the week.
But there was also a sand Spongebob.
And a sand Homer Simpson.
And then a big sleeping dog.
Blue and Violet for scale.
And a sand hot dog with chili and relish.
Blue and Violet for scale.
The following Monday Blue, Violet and I had to daytrip down to Charleston to pick up artwork. How could we be expected to not hit the beach for the afternoon? Mandatory sand skull with bucket hat.
And then there was the end of summer trip back to the beach. On the first day I made a big bird skull eating a surfer.
The second day featured an old school castle for Violet.
Violet for scale.
Then it was a giant cartoon dog.
...and his butt.
Handlebar mustache man.
Violet for scale.
A big bird man at the request of a little girl who made sure to ask what I was making each day.
Alternate view of bird man.
And then we tried an installation on the last day of 6 bald human heads buried in the sand along with an unlucky bird head.
Detail of bird head.
Quotes from strangers:
"How long does it take you?" - Depends on the size of the sculpture but 2-3 hours for any of these above.
"What are you making today?" - I usually figure that out after I start piling up the sand. Or when a kid from a family I've never met suggests something.
"I could never make anything like that" - Prove it. Pile up a little mound of sand and give it a try. Start with a smilie face. Or a stick figure.
"Are you an artist?" - Well, sorta.
"Did you make that?" - Depends on what kind of mood I'm in. Sometimes yes, other times my kids made it. Sometimes I point at a stranger and blame him.
"How did you do that?" - Sign up for my class next May and I'll show you. But this is not rocket science. What you learned when you were making sand castles at age 3 is still the same basic premise. Pack the sand and use your imagination.
"What is it?" - It's usually a skull. Or a bird. Or a creature with human features. Or a dog.
"How can you sculpt in public when you hate people?" - I truly do not know. I draw and sculpt in my studio at home and it is a completely solo activity. I do not want people around. I love the time alone in my head. On the beach people are watching you, taking photos of you and, horror of all horrors, they will come over and talk to you. I do know that I love to make people smile. As cheesy as that sounds, it's a real, honest statement. There is a way I go about chasing that goal in a gallery or fine art setting. But here, on the beach I get to see a gut reaction to what I've created. After it's finished I will retreat to the umbrella or the balcony for some lunch and from there I can watch as some of the beach neighbors will casually get up from their chairs and walk over to take photos of the sand sculpture. Some will bring their kids over to inspect it. They all smile. Some will go bring other family members over as well. But the beach walkers give the best reactions. They've headed out for a stroll to the pier or to burn off some of their kids' energy and they're all up on it before they notice. They slow down, smile, then stop and point for the benefit of their walking partners before they grab for their phones. Some will back up or walk around the sculpture discussing it. Then they'll take a quick look around to see if anyone is claiming it. I have my sunglasses on and hat pulled down so it looks like I'm asleep. Something unexpected has gripped their attention, interrupted their boring walk. They smile or laugh and then continue on their way. This summer I noticed several different people walk by every single day. Some of them talked to me and told me they came specifically to see what I was making that day. One lady posted pictures on her Facebook every day so her friends back home could see. And the best possible reaction is when other people on the beach see the sculptures and begin to make their own. Some kids beside me one day came over and told me they were going to make a cat. They did and then they brought me over to inspect it. It was great. Later in the week a big sand turtle popped up. Then a shark. It was awesome.
Monday morning at the crack of dawn my summer break if officially over. It's been an excellent one.