Castles Made of Sand
by Kevin Freitas
And so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually..
— Jimi Hendrix
PART I
In his highly regarded and influential essay Relational Aesthetics French curator Nicolas Bourriaud summarized the eponymous theoretical framework as comprising the following elements: “a set of artistic practices which take as their theoretical and practical point of departure the whole of human relations and their social context, rather than an independent and private space.” I experienced a whole different set of relational aesthetics a few weekends ago while attending The 29th Annual U.S. Open Sandcastle Competition.
Team Kyle’s Karvers - "Easter Island"
Others claim to have been relating for years and quite successfully to boot. I wonder however, if as part of a dedicated and self-proclaimed group of San Diego artists we don’t already have the tools necessary, sitting right under our collective noses, to turn our community around and put it on the Google map of cultural destinations.
The only other industrial-strength culture I’m aware of that is celebrating 30 years of presence in San Diego is Quint Gallery, which will do so in grand style with a retrospective of gallery artists in August at the California Center for the Arts, Escondido. Quint and the U.S. Open Sandcastle Competition are polar opposites to be sure — one is for the masses, the other for the cultural elite — but I can guarantee you which one is worshiped the most, and you won’t find it in some dark dank corner of a gallery but rather under the powerful rays of the Sun-God Ra. The success of the U.S. Open might therefore teach us some lessons on how to obtain the same sort of recognition and support by simply shoveling sand.
Beyond the heaving mass of overripe humanity — tattooed & pierced, bleached, various degrees of aging skin, purple-haired old ladies, beer bellies parading around in one-piece and two-piece bathing suits, bulging breasts carrying phones, sweaty armpits, faces overcooked and glistening red in the sun, hairy backsides, and the nauseating smell of sunscreen, cheap perfume, and salty air — the U.S. Open was from most accounts a teeming success. 300,000 people were expected to visit the event on Saturday alone. This is more than most museums see in a year. I don’t know how many people were there on Sunday, but it was enough to where I felt literally sandwiched in shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the crowd, carried like a swarm of bees pollinating one sand sculpture after another. There was no room for maneuvering, finding a better view, or time to linger if you weren’t lucky enough to get a peek: just a brief instant to snap a blurry photo with the cell phone and get out of the way.
I was experiencing Bourriaud’s aesthetics to a t — “human relations and their social context” — except no one was socializing or interacting, no exchanges were made with the artists who scurried under their tents after laboring for several hours in the hot sun, and there was nothing to signify that the event was artistic, culturally relevant, of a particular refinement, or possessed of any meaning beyond a tribute to Michael Jackson and sea creatures. There were no museum or gallery walls to lend a certain authority and credibility, it was happening outside, sand was being shaped, cast and coaxed into sculpture; and whether it was art, theatre, or performance didn’t seem to matter to a public who couldn’t get enough. And for the competition it was obvious: sun, beach, water, a couple of shovels, cokes in the cooler and nothing to prove. No departures, just a popular and socially acceptable art form sans pretension up for aesthetic appreciation.
From a technical point of view — and I am not an expert in sandcastle building — it was quite impressive. This included a large monument to MJ with a tomb-like structure and a bas-relief figurine of Michael performing the moonwalk. Or the “Guitar Hero” tribute complete with larger-than-life bass speakers, an effigy to Guns N’ Roses former lead guitarist “Slash”, and a B-Boy doing the splits with his baseball cap turned to one side. The more typical sculptures I saw were actual sandcastles à la Harry Potter: châteaux equipped with trestles, moats and an occasional dragon. Primarily though, there was the usual agglomeration of starfish, octopi, ocean life, and Bart Simpsons. The atypical works — though still generic enough to fall under current mainstream Pop or faux politico — were the homages to Barack Obama and bank foreclosures. One contestant created an entire riches-to-rags diorama that included stacks of money piled up in front of a bank façade, a château with a For Sale sign hanging on it, and a broken-down RV sitting in some trash trailer park in the middle of nowhere. These sculptures were timely and contemporary but lacking a bit in imagination, life’s realities having already crystallized and taken over. My favorite piece though was a reproduction of what looked like Easter Island and stone-like figures (or moai, as they are known) carved delicately out of the sand and placed perfectly within the 30’ x 30’ plot each contestant was allowed.
Location, location, location: it’s everything, even in sandcastle building. 30’ x 30’ doesn’t appear to be a lot when one thinks of outdoor sculpture, but it’s very difficult to manage the terrain, the sculpture’s aesthetic quality, and its readability or comprehension by the public. The most common solutions to this problem had the artists go big and wide — one big lump of sand with several smaller lumps radiating outwards. Octopi, starfish, and châteaux fit this criteria nicely: they were relatively easy to build and had the advantage of being recognizable. The artists who decided to go smaller had a much more difficult time mastering the terrain and solidifying the subject matter into one coherent piece. Clumps of small dispersed and intangible forms carved in the sand by some contestants, produced the most unsuccessful works I thought. I must say though, there were already pre-established categories — master and amateur — in this competition which dictated the form and genre of what you could sculpt. This could have had a nuisible effect on the outcome. Aside from this, it was apparent a majority of the contestants employed similar compositional techniques in displaying the final works.
Imperial Beach gently slopes down towards the ocean from the street at about a 15˚angle, which made the sculptures appear to “tilt-up” towards the viewer. The advantage of this is that you’re not looking straight down at something lying at your feet, but are actually looking up into it, creating the impression of a birds-eye view without the need for a flyover. Almost all the sculptures faced seaward, causing viewers standing in front of the yellow caution tape strung around each plot, to bunch up three to four-deep to get a glimpse. The left and right sides of the square plot were curiously void of people, if by chance you chose to stand there; it didn’t hamper the perception or appreciation of what you were viewing. It was just another vantage point. The sandcastle builders undoubtedly took advantage of this knowledge, often leaving the back sides of their sculptures untouched and unfinished, which saved time and sweat equity. It made perfect sense not to waste energy on unseen details, given that every team was allowed only five hours to complete the work. The Executive Sand Box, for example, was a business-sponsored competition in which a company had their logo or company name carved in large block lettering which faced the public. This also heightened the frontal aspect of the work and helped to corral onlookers. So much for what was visible or not.
PART II
I believe San Diego’s arts & culture, the organism itself, thrives on social networking and a hefty party scene. Unlike perhaps New York, Paris, or other major metropolitan cities where family class, wealth, politics, and business have played a major part in the development of its culture and institutions — for good or bad, San Diego makes up for this by putting partying first and art second. What counts is the night before and not the day after. I continually receive press releases from event organizers posing as art hipsters or pseudo-gallerists — from Barrio Logan, North Park, and everywhere between — all with the same goal in mind: to provide a space for partying, drinking, DJ’s, and dancing, with the art serving as party decor. San Diego will never achieve local or even national recognition, let alone international, if it continues to put its art and artists second. This attitude of image first art second extends to San Diego’s museums, galleries, and arts organizations, which are continually satisfied to circulate, rehash, reheat, and reserve as nouvelle cuisine, some of its local, overused, and untalented artists as examples of culture or should I say fiefdom. This has got to stop. But, I think I have a solution for how to make it better.
While talking with a close friend and colleague I came up with the following proposition: Instead of maintaining a trickle down top-tier gate keeping aesthetic of decision making based on who-you-know and not what-you-know, I propose, to the benefit of everyone involved both publicly and privately, to bring together the art and artists with the one natural resource San Diego has an overabundance of: its beautiful beaches. By allowing our artists access to a universally-recognized medium — all the while insuring the larger public’s comprehension — it could bring the “fun” back into making art. Stop worrying about guarding the pole position in the art world — capitalize instead on the already-established beach culture of Southern California. If you need the historical underpinnings to support the project, you can find its definition in the realm of conceptual art.
Imagine the Burning Man of sandcastle building right here in our own backyard. Great image, not mine, but the idea makes sense if you think about how the U.S. Open Sandcastle Competition has remained successful for 30 years in its current state, and what it could end up looking like if it were approached with a Burning Man aesthetic. I’m speaking of course of turning sandcastle building into a higher art form with the aid of local artists and the materials at our disposition. As it stands, the U.S. Open strictly governs the methods and materials employable in building one's sandcastle: “teams can only use biodegradable decorative materials such as shells or seaweed. Food coloring and flour are permitted, but adhesives are not allowed. Water containers for builders can be filled ahead of time and stored outside the building plot. Each team is expected to build their sculpture with hand tools only such as masonry, garden or household implements, shovels and tampers, and are allowed only one wheelbarrow and one ladder.” If the word sandcastle has already been hybridized to the point of encompassing all sorts of imagery and themes, then it shouldn’t be too difficult to rethink the use and types of materials eventually employed in constructing them. There is no doubt a concern for public safety, but this too can be addressed provided there are better barricades for example, and enough space to operate within. Everyone is going “green” these days, so as a start why not recycle the trash left behind on our beaches? There should be enough there to “decorate” any number of sand sculptures in the making.
Imagine the creative force of a Mary Miss, Nancy Holt, or Michael Heizer brought to bear on sand sculpture. The thought of huge bulldozers moving tons of sand around is enough to get anyone excited. Why not our artists right here in San Diego? I can think of any number of talented artists able to compete in such a competition. The potential is there given that one could expand the parameters of the competition to include (as my colleague suggested) colored PVC tubing, floating rafts, platforms, wood, metal, or any number of materials that could be easily assembled and taken down without damaging the environment. What an event this could turn out to be: flames shooting out of a dragon’s mouth, robotic starfish, solar powered light & sound sculptures, the use of the ocean’s tides to carve and interact with the work: the possibilities are endless and a win-win situation for everyone involved.
The point is: what are the chances of this coming to fruition? Likely little or none. One could certainly attempt to circumvent the competition with clandestine installations or nocturnal special ops, but I doubt the local authorities would sanction fifty yards of red brick and a truckload of lumber piled-up on their beaches. The thought though is tempting, and if done right its unconventionality could shed new light on the old practice of sandcastle building. So what do we do? The Watts Towers went from nothing to something through one man’s vision and perseverance. A lone immigrant from Italy, Simon Rodia, pursued an idea, finished it, then walked away. He too built a sandcastle of sorts, and embodied relational aesthetics in a way Bourriaud never imagined when some fifty years later he declared it a new contemporary art practice. But why won’t artists in San Diego gain the recognition they so desire and need, because they have forgotten how to imagine, turn water into wine, create a Zone de Sensibilité Picturale Immatérielle, and work with a shovel? San Diego needs its own Watts Towers, something to gather around which cultivates and inspires the imagination. Sandcastles worked for 300,000 people in one day, why can’t they work for us now?
After Glow
Saturday, July 11th, The Nesian Ohana, seventyNINE co., and Nesian's Can Cancer Foundation presents the St. Jude Project: Can Cancer Art Show- San Diego located at The Luce Loft (1037 J St. San Diego, CA 92101) on the corner of 10th & J from 6pm-midnight. 
Lux Art Institute Announces 2009-2010 Artist-in-Residence Season