Jamie's blog

It was the late afternoon and we had stopped off at a motorway station on our way back from two days in Liverpool for a coffee.  We were in the outside garden, sprawled out on plastic chairs, the tranquillity of our mood not disturbed by the cars speeding by on the motorway behind the thin veneer of trees.  I looked across the table at Andy Firth and then Andy Moss.  Mr Firth was sat back with his eyes closed and face raised to the sky, his café latte in hand and mouth moving ever so slightly as he savoured the taste of it.  Mr Moss with his long black hair and moustache wore a downward gaze and cradled his French style long espresso; reminiscent of a holiday in Paris.  The thing that struck me so profoundly as I sat there watching them both was that here were two people dressed in the robes of utter contentment.  A peace within that needs no words or grand gestures, just a very comfortable silence that had been so well deserved.

This moment of serenity had come by collaborating with two Liverpool Schools and sharing with them a day drawing in the sand on the great beach of Crosby surrounded by the ubiquitous sculptures of Antony Gormley.  These schools were Calderstones and Holly Lodge respectively, full of kids with charisma who like a small army of ants swept onto this huge beach and made two most wonderful pieces of art.  I thank them for their efforts and two great days spent on the beach with them.  I hope they didn’t ache too much afterwards.

Also, thanks to the lovely Kathy Haywood who with great spirit marched us on and adorned the every so grateful Mr Moss with his Mexican sombrero with pink decoration; he will treasure it always.  And thanks to the chaps from River Media who were undaunted by the challenges of the scissor lift and were so patient with our bizarre choreography.  I look forward to seeing the films.

Jamie

This is the film dedicated to the UK’s largest beach sand drawing as commissioned by Island Records for Jack Johnson’s new album ‘To the Sea’.  It is also a very nice track by Mr Johnson I must say.  It is called “You and your heart.”  The film was made by the most talented Finnian Varney of aberration films.  The sand drawing was of course made by us at sandinyoureye with special thanks to Andy and Helen for a terrific job organiseing everything whilst I was galavanting around Holland making the himalayas out of 250 tonnes of sand.  I did make a nice Hare though if I do say so myself.

If you want to read the diary from the day then go to the blog page

I would like to thank the team for a very hard, but very good days work.  Nice one

Jamie

Jonny Sayers was looking concentrated and trying to find James Haigh in the binoculars 800 meters away so that they could sight a straight line over the distance and tell the rest of the team where to put the guide string that was essential to the sand drawing.  Communications were being zipped down the radios but we seemed to be having serious problems.  There was an uneasy tension in the air.

Jonny turned to me: “It’s not working Jamie, they’re putting down the string, but because it is so long it’s not keeping straight and is blowing away in the wind.”   The whole process was taking far too much time and we were already behind with it.  Without a base line, all the measurements of the drawing are flawed and it is pretty much ruined.  The sea was humming with an 8ft swell, reminding us that it was still there and would be turning around in three hours to pursue us.  It was now 11am.

I looked down the line and could see what Jonny was referring to, the string just bowed out about 10 meters. “OK, this isn’t working.”  Our plan was drastically flawed.  I searched for my radio: “James, this is Jamie, are you receiving over?”

“Yes….we’re having problems with this baseline Jamie” James is not easily perturbed but I could feel the urgency in his voice.

“I know, the baseline isn’t working, send everyone back to this part of the beach, you stay where you are.”

James then came in on the radio again: “Send everyone back?”

I paused, taking another thought on what I was doing, I pressed the receiver, “Yes, send everyone back, but you stay where you are.”  At this moment I saw an attractive young woman hovering behind me.  I had seen her on her telephone earlier and Andy Firth who is our new technical manager had identified her as our contact from Island Records.  I had not yet met or even spoken to her as Andy had taken care of everything whilst I was in Holland.  She was the person who was commissioning the project and who had hired a helicopter to take a photograph of the image on completion that would read TO THE SEA – JACK JOHNSON, with the release date beneath.

I turned back to Jonny Sayers.  “Jonny, when everyone gets back we’re going to just measure and place in the markers for the drawing directly, without the string as reference.  Use that flag pole to sight on, we don’t need the string.”

I turned around to the young woman. “Hello, you must be Olivia.  I am Jamie.”

After I’d assured her that everything was fine I went about trying to explain to our team of 14 that we were abandoning the original plan and using another method.  It is a very daunting moment to turn away from what you know into the unknown when there is no time to think, just do.  So off went the team with a new task; I kept back the teams of Jo Billingsley and Andy Moss.  Andy Moss is a man beaming with friendliness and indefatigable energy that you would not tell at first glance with his handle bar moustache, piercing eyes and Brian May flowing black hair.  “Mr Moss, I need you to make the line by the sea opposite the base line, forget the measurements we don’t have enough time, just do it by eye.”  His eyes widened a little at the prospect of not measuring, but then settled again to the task ahead, eyebrows narrowing in acknowledgement to take on the challenge.  And so off he went carrying in hand his red plastic bag of worldly goods in place of his electric guitar.   I needed Jo Billinglsey and Jason Lynn to start with the actual drawing.  She had the first letter to make which was a T, 50 meters in length and 30 meters wide.  In total this image was going to be 800 meters long and 90 meters deep.  The first drawing we ever made was 20 meters long and 15 meters wide, and here we were attempting to make something that was 240 times bigger than the one we originally did only three years ago.  At this moment it seemed impossible and the pressure of contracts being broken and helicopters flying over an empty beach was looming.  But we were not going to give up that easily:

“Jo, get your drawing materials together, sticks, rakes, measuring tapes and guide lines.”  She nodded with her characteristic enthusiasm and went off with Jason to gather her weapons.  The drawing phase had begun.

It was not a surprise to me when I saw that this too was too slow.  Jo is extremely talented, but I had laboured her with a method that relied too much on guide lines and measurements.  I glanced around to see how the base line was going; currently the whole team except Jo’s was absorbed in it.  It was now 11:30 and we should have started drawing an hour ago, low tide was at 14:20.  Each letter now needed to be made in only half an hour, a frightening task.  I looked on at Jo and Jason, with determination they cracked on, but the speed in which they could work seemed futile; we would not finish the drawing in time.  All this use of measuring tapes and pink lines was slowing things down.

A lesson that I once learnt with sand sculpture in my early days dawned on me.  I once made a 400 tonne Mayan temple and measured everything implicitly.  My colleagues mocked me for this, saying, ‘why don’t you just use the length of one of your tools to measure with.’  I looked at a rake lying redundantly on the sand and promptly measured it.  1.5 meters long, I couldn’t believe it. This was perfect as most of the measurements were multiples of 3’s.  I then started measuring small distances with only my rake, placed in a marker stick and then measured in another marker that was 50 meters away to the bottom of the letter.  The previous method was then to place a string in between the markers to give a straight line to rake by.  But could I draw a straight line over that distance without a guide string?  We had no other choice, this had to work.  I boldly took my rake and attempted to draw straight over 50 meters, keeping my eyes on the little stick stuck in the ground 50 meters away. Finally I reached it and with an intake of breath looked back over the line I had just made. Unbelievable.  A little bendy, but of no consequence, the tractor would take care of that.  I placed in more markers and travelled the distances, in 8 minutes I had made the letter H unaided with only the use of a rake and map.  It suddenly dawned on me that I was surrounded by brilliant artists who did not need string.  “Jo!, forget the string, just draw!”

From this point on the tables turned.  Jo rapidly took charge of the new technique and promptly finished the letter T with ease.  I was finally able to awaken the dormant beast of the tractor that had been waiting quietly for its moment in the shade of the cliffs.  With a nod to its master the tractor roared into life and drew up its mighty form beside me with its giant rake in tow.  The master opened the door and I said “Just rake between the lines.”  The master nodded, closed the cab door, and with a roar the tracker sped off and began to paint between the lines, tearing up the beach as it went.  We were over an hour behind, but the first brush stroke had been made.

I grabbed my rake and began to make the letter E.  Afterwards, I called on the radio to have everyone return to me once the baseline had been completed.  The great Mark Yates and his team had already begun the letters that had curves using an entirely different technique and this at least was a great success.  They were flying along in their steady way.  Soon Warzier Mirza, Andy Firth and Andy Moss returned to me.  I showed them the new method.

The look of despair that had painted our faces earlier was suddenly replaced by hope and the realization that we did have a slim chance of doing this.

“That’s a piece of piss Jamie!” cheered Andy Moss.

“It is, forget the strings and measuring tapes.  Just draw.”  I was fortunate at this point also by the people I was surrounded by.  In times of hopelessness some people will simply give up on a project that is seemingly doomed to failure, whereas others will simply get on with it in the hope that I or another will think of something and that we will prevail.  I am a very lucky man as my team is full of these kinds of people and it is a quality that I look for in a person.  To this end we had not lost too much time and our new methods could save us.

Two hours later and I got a radio message from Andy Firth.  He seemed anxious.  We were by this stage almost finished with the drawing phase: “Jamie, are you receiving over?”

“This is Jamie, receiving over.”  I began running towards Andy Firth who had been doing a great job of co-ordinating the team.  He was currently working on the numbers that were the date below the letters and quite close to the sea, he was not far away

“Jamie, I’m worried about this tide”.  This I could see on his face as I came closer, usually so calm Andy looked genuinely worried and strained.  I clipped the radio onto my belt as we came into shouting distance.

“Me too, the tide was due to turn only ten minutes ago, but it looks to have done so earlier.  It is definitely coming in now.”  The race was on; our great moon orbiting 384 thousand kilometres away was now dragging the sea back up towards us.

I looked behind me to see where the tractor was.  It was doing a fantastic job and had covered so much ground.  My first instinct was that we were doing great but then I looked at the plans and realised that he was only on the end of the first phrase.  The sheer size of this image had tricked me, he had indeed done a vast area, but it was in fact less than half of the drawing.

“What’s our ETA on this?” asked Andy.

“I’m not sure, the sea should stay for a while, but once it turns it will gain momentum and race in.” It was currently only 30 meters away from the bottom of our numbers which themselves had not been completed yet.

Andy looked grim.  A small rake in his hand and this vast area to rake “I’m afraid that the sea will take the numbers before we finish the letters.”

“That could well happen.” I replied.  I reached for my radio.  “This is Jamie to Mark Yates, are you receiving over?”

A calm voice came over the radio.  “Aye Jamie Lad”

“How long have you before you have finished the curved letters?”

“We’re on the last one now”.

“OK, when you’ve finished I need you to come back over here and begin raking.”  It was now all hands on deck.

The moments that passed from then on were filled with running around letters with a rake.  This seemed futile when we had a tractor, but it was making a difference.    I went up to the beast and spoke to its master.  “Time is critical now.  The sea is only 15 meters away from the numbers and we need to finish these letters before it gets them.  At this moment I just need you to rake as much area as you can and we will come after you and fill in the details.”  The master made a sharp nod and shut the cab door, off he went.

We soon finished raking the numbers by hand and I had everyone except Andy Firth charge to the remaining letters.  “Andy, you stay by the numbers and watch the sea.”

“But what if the sea starts to take the numbers before you’ve finished the letters?”

“Then you must call the helicopter.”

And so on we went, all of us charging round raking full 50 meter letters by hand, Mark Yates breaking his with his efforts.  James and Jonny exhausted as they had been cleaning up after the tractor, but still raking on.

Andy Firth came through on the radio.  He was standing by the numbers.  “Jamie, I’ve been measuring how far the sea is coming in every five minutes and we have not got long.  What is our estimated time of finishing?”

“Very soon now.  Make the call Mr Firth.”  Soon, the whole team was on the final letter N raking the sand, only the lone Andy Firth who with his partner Helen had worked so hard organising this whole project was not there.  He was acting as guardian against the sea, willing it to stay at bay for just a few moments whilst the helicopter was scrambled; hoping that it would not take the precious numbers before we finished.  At this moment I looked around me to the faces of those involved and saw sheer delight and disbelief as we were on the eve of achieving what four hours ago seemed utterly impossible.  Although our bodies were aching we raked for the shear enjoyment of it.

And then the hum of our bird in the air.  “Jamie, are you receiving over.”

“Yes Mr Firth, I’m receiving over.”

He was excited. “Look to the sky.”

“I’ve already seen it”

“Have you finished the last letter yet?”

“We have indeed Mr Firth, we have just finished raking the last letter, OVER.”

“WHOOOOOO,”  I couldn’t see him as he was so far away, but I feel he was probably jumping with joy at that moment.

Whilst the helicopter buzzed around we made our way up the cliff to get a glimpse of what we had achieved. On the way up I saw Olivia again with a chap I assumed to be Scott.  I had heard lot from reading the emails between Andy Firth and them but had never written or spoke to them directly.  This is testament to my faith in Andy and Helens ability to run a project with me quietly directing in the background and making plans.  There is no way that this project could have gone ahead without them, I would have simply had to have said no as I was in Holland and couldn’t have prepared for it.  It is great to have a team.  Not just for the practical element, but for the fact that we are able to so readily bounce ideas off each other and encourage one another.  Oliva and Scott were ecstatic by what we had done, and the photographer in the helicopter couldn’t believe what he saw when he came over the horizon.   After shaking hands and saying goodbye we paced up the rest of the hill.  The whole team was already there looking onto our work.  I looked over Jo’s shoulder to see our work.  I could only make out the last three letters of Jack Johnson’s name, not because Jo was in the way, but because it was so big.  S O N is all I could read.  Incredible.

Even though we faced difficulties, we had revolutionised the way of drawing in sand that day.  We have moved onto a new level where the image is so big that you can no longer see the people on the ground, even the bulk of the tractor is hard to make out.  I also learnt a clear lesson brought on by severe pressure.  If the method you are using is not working and will not achieve what you need to achieve, then you must stop using your time on it and think of something else.

The spirit of the sand drawing is overwhelming.  It was only the next afternoon that I actually saw the final image from the helicopter.  It was in my inbox the previous evening, but I was in no hurry to see it and went to bed instead.  I was enthralled with that euphoric feeling that always comes with these drawings, we were totally set against at one point but were not defeated and together overcame the problems and were victorious , it is the journey that you take with the people involved in that moment in time that is the key and the joy.  The image itself is just a very tasty cherry.  Today I spoke to Andy Moss and he said “I still cannot believe that we did it, I just cannot believe it!”

To the Sea! and to everyone that was involved!

By the way, I think this was the biggest beach sand drawing in the world.  Heads up on that one if anyone know different.

Jamie

Last week I got a message from the Sand in your Eye Team.  This is great as I didn’t even write it.

“So have your balls dropped yet?”  This was the question Andy Firth asked of me when I was just thirteen years old, it was my first week at the Big School.  In that first week I had auditioned to be in the school play for a performance called Blood Brothers and had somehow landed a great part of the younger Mickey.  I at that time was very small for my age, very skinny and very ginger, a recipe for disaster.  Fortunately I also had quite a good singing voice which kind of saved my skin in this hard nosed comprehensive city school called Butter Shaw Upper.

Andy’s reference to my balls was a very direct way of making a comment about my voice and physical maturity, half jest to the fact that I was still very much just a boy and half compliment as my singing back then was quite something.  I never really knew how to answer this question that Andy seemed to always ask me, but I knew it was just a gentle brotherly jibe.  You see, he had got the part of Mickey as well but at an older age, we were playing one and the same person.  Andy at this time was in his final year at school, five years older than me; dashing, tall, blond, and with all the girls swooning over him.  He looked out for me in that first year and when ever he saw me again afterwards he would always ask: “So have your balls dropped yet?”

During my final year at school I landed the part of the Dentist in the musical ‘Little Shop of Horrors’  I by this time was very comfortable in the school and was no longer short with high voice, although still very ginger. I had spent many a good year performing in the school plays which set me out with fantastic memories and the wonderful tool of self confidence which is indispensible in public environments .  In this final play I performed as the character of a masochistic womaniser and took great pleasure in thrusting my PVC clad pelvis in front of 300 people every other minute to their horror.  My unfortunate sidekick was Helen Tidswell who played a nurse.  We had to perform an evocative salsaesque dance to show just how sexy I was.  My balls were in fine order by this stage.

It is some years on now, and Andy and Helen now have a family together.  At this moment the three of us are sat eating Fish and Chips, our most glorious and world famous British cuisine that outclasses any Oyster dish.  The occasion is our weekly meeting to discuss the Sandinyoureye world, as Andy and Helen are now very much part of it. You see, they have agreed to help me run my modest business which will reduce the rattling that often goes off in my overcrowded brain.  When someone makes an enquiry, Helen answered it in her husky tones which varies depending on whether she has been singing that weekend.  When a sand drawing needs to be done, then Andy the Grid King takes over.  I am extremely lucky, as not only are they great at what they do, but I trust them implicitly from our performance days.  This is harder to come by than any shiny orange metal.

So to Helen and Andy, welcome and may we enjoy!

Jamie

“An idea is like a seed” I babbled the night before in front of the team whilst in the pub who had offered to let five of us stay there for the night for free, “If you feed it then it may grow beyond all your imagination.”  I had a pint of Black Sheep to aid me in my oratory.  “And this is what I mean, this was once just a simple idea and now we are all sat here ready to make a giant sand drawing tomorrow.”  This was all received well and after the meeting we retired to the comfort of a cosy corner and a few more rounds of fine ale to encourage our Bravado.

“You must be joking.” These were the dishevelled comments of the great and most talented Mark Yates as I woke him at 6am the next morning.  The benefits of beer from the night before had turned on us.  But there was a golden moment waiting.  Finn’s mom had promised an English Breakfast to start our day at her house, and even though she is a vegetarian, she took great delight in stuffing our bellies with pork, hasbrowns, toast, beans, and even a bowl of cornflakes if you could fit it in; which I did.

But we indeed had a lot to do and needed some whole hearted fuel to do it.  Unfortunately, Finn who was filming the piece could not join us as we tucked into our succulent bacon, as he had been on the beech since 4am filming the sunrise shot in time lapse.

We hauled our full bellies into the car and made our journey from Malton to Filey, winding through the sleepy villages of Yorkshire on this glorious Mothers Day, the sun glistening over the hills, with trees on the verge of coming into bud and leaping forward in the fullness of spring.  As it was a Sunday, we listened to the ‘Faith hour’ on radio York, apparently a lady had made a successful exorcism of a woman and child that had been plaguing a young family, and had managed to lock them in a jar of holy water.  Well done to that girl.

On our arrival to the beach I sighted Finn on the promenade wrapped up in his best thermals, camera in place and a folding chair sat beside him which had obviously been his sanctuary for the last four hours.  “Eh up lad!”  I called at him as we got out of the car.  “Let’ get started then.”

By 8am the team of 15 had arrived.  Of course things did not go completely to plan as is always the case.  We had some ‘technical issues’ with the camera and then I had to do the introduction which is timed to music, it took a few rushed shots and I unfortunately marked 10 out of 10 for ponce value; I think we’ll have to do some editing there, but for now, we’ll all have to endure it.  After that we had to lay out the graph on the sand which is always demoralising as it seemingly makes no sense to anyone but me and people just have to go with my commands down the walkie talkies.  “Roger that, that’s right, lay the wooden spoons in every 10 meters.  Over.”  This is always a great workout for me as I’m constantly sprinting the vast area of the drawing which is 75 meters to make sure things are in place.

“Isn’t it getting a bit late Jamie, what’s our schedule like?”  It was indeed a little late and there was not room for much error, and our error at that point was about 45 minutes.

Finally the graph was finished and I called a quick meet to discuss the drawing method.  “Is everyone here?  Where’s Edward?  Has anyone seen him?”  I then glanced across the way and saw Edward sprawled out on a bench having a sleep.  “Edward, wake up lad, we’ve got to get a move on!” He woke up affronted and a little confused “What, er…. now?”

The drawing phase seemed to go well and is always a relief as it instils a sudden confidence that the project may actually work.  But then there was still the time issue highlighted by my dear friend John’s ever so slightly sarcastic relish of “They are behind time.”  But behind we were, and now by at least an hour.  The tide had already turned over an hour ago and we had a two hour drawing to rake.  It did not seem possible now to do it within the time frame.  I discussed this with Finn and he suggested that we stay with the original calculations as to change it now could ruin the piece.

“OK chaps, have a sandwich and a quick break and then we’ll get the raking started.  Visit the toilet if you need it as there will be no breaks once we begin the drawing.”  Like a flock of birds everyone dispersed and I was left with my Tuna sandwich pondering the time issue, and then suddenly an idea dawned on me.

“Munsten!” I bellowed, this was the name of the drummer boy, “ start beating the drum!”  I stuffed my tuna sandwich in my pocket and ran down the slippery steps and onto the beach.  I grabbed the nearest rake lying on the floor.  The drum was beating.  Originally, we were to rake at one rake width intervals every ten seconds.  So why not two instead?  This would make the image move twice as quick, just programme the camera to make double the frames.  I raked to see if it was manageable, and it seemed to work fine.  Excellent.  “Finn, we are going to move at twice the speed!”

Of course, five minutes is always ten and it was a while before everyone returned.  Edward had gone for a walk to search for Filey’s best sandwich but on we went.  I gathered the team again and explained how we were to rake in beat with a drum that would synchronise with the camera taking a photo every ten seconds, together with the alterations that we had made.  “But I’ve only just got my head around the other method!” piped Hannah.

Each team was then going to begin drawing at the sound of the fog horn which I love.  I’m thinking of attaching it to my bicycle.  After many final ramifications and reassurances that everyone knew the plan, I fired the fog horn, “BOOOOM!”  This was then followed by the almost silent click of the camera as it took the first frame of the sequence.  The raking had begun and now there was no turning back.

The raking was an intense process, watched on by all that had come to walk on the promenade in Filey that day.  Suddenly an unthinkable image had started to appear in the sand, it was no longer an abstract idea, it was growing like a plant, the central trunk advancing down the beach with limbs branching and spiralling from it.  People on the beach passed by with no idea what they were walking over, it is impossible to know what these crazy folk with rakes are up to unless you can see them from above.  The serenity was only partially quelled as I intermittently fired to foghorn to signal the start of a new limb.

“The sea’s getting pretty close!” advised Andy Moss.  The beach was not so steep and I knew that one wave could charge in and take the not yet finished top of the drawing.  “Mr Yates, I called on the walkie talkie.  Double the rake speed if you would!”  And so with a final charge the image was finished before the unrelenting sea managed to take it.  There is no allowance for mistakes when you are playing by the rules of the cosmos, moons and suns do not wait for sand drawings.

But of course, as you can see from the film, all went well. The seed did indeed flower into something beyond our imagination.  And that was the thing really, originally it was just an idea, but with thought and application it became a living thing, and not just a piece of animation.  15 people, some of which who had never met, travelled over counties, stayed in each others homes, were never kept wanting over food and good cheer because of unreal hospitality, and finally got to share a day together of our short lives that none of us will ever forget.

“Do you remember that sand drawing on Filey beach……” we will say.

Thank you to all those involved, and cheerio for now.

Jamie

I am pleased to say that we will be creating the world’s first animated sand drawing at Filey Beach, North Yorkshire on the early morning of Mothers Day – Sunday 14 March 2010.

The drawing entitled “An idea is like a seed” will grow from a single spot into a plant that will be 75 meters long and will move and swirl to music.  It will take 15 people a day to make and will create a real-time film sequence that will be 29 seconds long.

The image will be created over four hours by taking a photograph every ten seconds which will later be condensed into real-time film and make a sequence that is 29 seconds long; a process referred to as time lapse.

The drawing begins at 7am and ends at 12pm with the sea washing over it around 2pm.  The film will be available that evening on the blog at:  www.sandsculptureice.co.uk/blog

The artistic director is myself and filming will be done by Finn Varney (www.aberrationfilms.co.uk), and music by Daren Ibbetson.  The drawers are Yorkshire artists: Mark Yates (www.markyates.co.uk) from the band Terrovision, Andy Moss, Thomas Bolland (www.thomasbolland.co.uk), Hannah Bolland, Warzier Mirza, Edward Mortimer, Richard Green, and Andrew Firth as well as the ‘ABERRATION film crew.’

If you don’t know what I’m talking about then this will give you an idea, but the one in Filey will move and be four times the size!

Hope to see you there and cheerio for now!

Jamie

“What’s the weather forecast like for tomorrow Tom?”  I was on the train and was coming back from the airport from Ireland, I’d been working for some Irish friends in the making of a sand sculpture.

“Well it’s predicted for heavy rain Jamie.”  I was forlorn as this wasn’t good news.  “There is rain in the morning but it seems to clear in the early part of the day only to start again in the evening.  Shall we go ahead with it?”  The train was rattling away and echoing the process going on inside my head.  Should I get over a dozen artists to drive for hours to a remote beach at the crack of dawn on the off chance that the experiment may be rained off.

“I think it will be OK, let’s go for it.” Then all the messages were sent.  “It’s on.”

It rained heavily during the journey the next day but then a welcomed blue sky began to peel back the clouds to reveal bristling sunshine, although not warm enough to dull the chilling wind of April  2007.  We descended upon the beach and I began to give instructions on the new method of drawing in sand which I had recently devised to make drawing much faster.  This was a typical scenario as each time I do a drawing I am always pushing boundaries and developing the technique.  The drawing that we were to make was extremely ambitious, six times the size of our first drawing only one year previous.

“We need two small teams, Mark you can be the drawer in one team.  Who wants to be Marks personal raker?”  This is the person that follows the Drawer and then fills in the details with the rake.  A very catchy job title if I do say so myself; one for the C.V.  “We can then have general rakers who will rake the sand en masse.”  Not so good for the CV.

Everyone got primed to be ready whilst I directed from the top of the cliff, barking down the walkie talkie and giving instructions only to find that two didn’t work.  Batteries.  Lots of shouting and arm waving then became the norm.  Always in these drawings it seems so complicated at first that there is a general lull before things get going, as nobody really has any idea what they are doing, but as the magic begins to take hold the image moves forward like a wave on the rocks, washing the confused expressions from my friends faces.  It begins with a lot of talking, people are making sure of their position and technique.  But after a while all goes quiet as their concentrated gaze becomes focussed on the end of their tool, whether it is a drawing stick, a rake, or a piece of string, the only noise is the seas mumblings, gently reminding us that it is coming and that we do not have much time left.  We begin drawing patterns in the sand with the knowledge that we are joined in this seemingly fruitless pursuit by many others, all working towards the same goal, each person indispensible.

So why do it?  All that effort and aching backs just to produce a piece of art that by the time it is finished is ready to be erased by our great Mother.  I am not actually sure why. But what I do know is that it feels fantastic, there is an unreal sense of euphoria amongst the group as we have made something special that needed every one of us for it to be.  All the more special as it is fleeting, a moment caught in time for us to remember.   It is almost worth it just to see the expressions of the people taking their Sunday walk along the cliff only to see that below them where there should only be a beach, there is a drawing in the sand.

On the 14^th March this year, we will be making another drawing in Whitby, North Yorkshire, if you want to join us let me know, it will be an early start, from 8am until 12:30.  But this one will be an animated abstraction that grows from a seed and dances to music.  I leave you with this, the concept for the drawing:

“An idea is like a seed.  If you do not nourish it then at best it will stay with you forever but come to nothing, at worst it will rot from your imagination and be gone from the world forever…… But if you feed it,…. then it may grow beyond all imagining.”  A seed is placed in a ball of earth and then thrown from the cliff onto the beach.  It explodes, and then the drawing begins….

Jamie