Andy Moss and the Beethoven Sand Sculpture

Whilst shovelling some sand below Beethoven’s chin I turned to Andy Moss. “So lets go and see a show tonight.”

Andy returned my gaze with a quizzical scepticism. “Oh yeah?  Why’s that then?”

“Well, we are making a sculpture for a classical music festival and we should probably see some classical music.”

“Mmm.”  Mr Moss eyed me even more suspiciously.  “And that’s the only reason is it?”

Whatever did he mean I thought to myself.  “Well yes.  We could go tomorrow night but there is a really good tune being played tonight that I really like and I think you will all really enjoy it.  It’s called Lark Ascending by Vaughan Williams and is one of the most magical tunes around”

“….And there’s no other reason why we are going? You see there is usually some other reason that we don’t know about.”

I was beginning to feel offended.  “Nope, just the music”

Mr Moss began to twist the ends of his moustache neatly in his thumb and forefinger, deep in contemplation of the situation.  “Ok.”  He was evidently willing to sit this one out and await the true conclusion.  “We will see.”

We were at the East Neuk Music Festival again making a sand sculpture in the village of Crail outside the glorious Honey Pot Café with Graham and Edna that is home to the world famous Crail Carrot Cake (claimed to be made by Page).  We were making a sculpture on the theme of Beethoven with Dan Glover from America working on the music score, me the face of Beethoven, and Andy Moss the haircut.  It was a somewhat daunting experience on account of it being a portrait of sorts and Beethoven’s miserable expression.  It is very true that if I am making a laughing face then it makes me laugh and smile, and the converse is true with a miserable face.  Still I plodded on.  I was encouraged greatly however when someone thought that it was to be Margaret Thatcher and then another Lady Gaga.  Lildhi who was one of the stewards looking after the sculpture said it was going to give her nightmares. Thanks for that.

On that note, I decided to go all the way and take up on Dan Glovers suggestion and give it roaming eyes.  You see there is an optical illusion where if you sculpt an object concave (negative) rather than convex (positive) as normal, then it will appear to follow you.  And so it was that Beethovens black eyes would follow you constantly no matter where you were.

Beethoven is watching you!

Some hours later we had arrived at the concert hall and watched the first half of the concert which was entirely strings.  “Well she was pulling some funny expressions.”  This was the half time commentary by Mr Moss on the violin soloist’s Isabelle van Keulen performance after the interval.  She is a very charismatic violinist from Holland and she is characteristically blond and tall as the Dutch tend to be.  It was evidently her that was to play the Lark Ascending.  “…..So why are we really here Jamie?”

“I told you, there is a really good piece later on.  You will like it.”

Dan then rolled into conversation with tired looking eyes, “Oh, man, I nearly fell asleep there, I need a coffee.” The poor lad looked like he had just got out of bed.  During the concert I had to pinch the soft tissue of his hand at one moment to stop him from dosing off.  “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just so soothing that it just lulls me off to sleep!”

For the second half we took our seats and we were this time accompanied by Tilly and Mohsina who were fashionably late as they are just so cool.  Mohsinah also had a cold which was great as she added to the lulls in the music with her sniffles.  But the second half was much more lively and nobody was dozing off this time.  Schubert woke us all up and got our feet tapping.  I was so excited by the sight of the trombones (I used to play the trumpet) that I had to correct myself for using some colourful expletives.  I was in civilised company now.  It has been said to me many times, you can take the boy out of Bradford, but you cannot take Bradford out of the boy.

And back onto the stage came the lead violinist Isabelle van Keulen.  I was by this stage a little nervous due to Mr Moss’s probing accusations and the fact that I’d brought everyone here to pretty much listen to this piece.  I myself had heard it many times on the radio and then began to realise that it is actually a very difficult piece to play and some fourteen minutes long.  I began to question whether this tall Dutch lady could play this delicate solo.  As she walked on there was lots of clapping and nodding, but I did detect some nerves from her, and rightly so, only later did I find out that she had never played this at a concert before.  The audience then went quiet and she propped the tiny violin that is 250 years old onto her shoulder and then clamped it there with her chin, occasionally releasing her hands from it entirely to make sure it was balanced and secured comfortably.  Her expression was now sombre and totally concentrated.  It was just her and the violin, building up to the moment when her bow would move across the strings and the piece would begin.

Total Silence, no movement from anybody.  And then the Lark began to Ascend.

There is something utterly compelling about music.  What is in the fabric of a rhythm and sound that can make people stand aghast with such joy and amazement?  The sounds that came from that little violin and the supporting Scottish Chamber Orchester were as sweet as Dan Glover’s honey, and all were licking their lips and some wiping their eyes towards the end.  But as if this was not enough, Isabelle played the piece so magnificently that even the seagulls chimed in their calls in perfect pitch to celebrate this wonderful piece of music.  Vaughan Williams, thank you so much for such an amazing piece, and Isabelle van Keulen you were fantastic.  Even Mr Moss had to almost concede that my true intentions were to see the music.  But still there is an element of doubt in the end of his moustache!

Oh, and we also did some sand drawings just to throw in an added extra.

Brittle Star

Star Fish Sand Drawing

Jamie and the Jellyfish

My head popped out of the water and I drew breath.  Whilst under I had hit a rock and grazed my shoulder, swimming amongst the jagged rocks at low tide was not the best place to be for a land lover.  As I came to shore Jade, a Scottish lass who works for the festival was just leaving the beach to go back to work.  With her red hair she is one of the prettiest Gingers I have ever met and it always brightened our day to see her beaming smile in the morning.  I stood there in front of her, stripped down to my underpants with a bleeding shoulder and wished her on her way.

Andy Moss and Dan Glover sunning on the rocks in their ridiculous hats.

As beauty walked off the beach I walked on towards my brothers in arms eating their lunch on the rocks.  As I approached, Dan Glover from America and Andy Moss who is now labelled the Mexican, were mocking me as I limped over the shells with the grace of a drunk, Dan then complaining that he couldn’t see on account of the glare coming from my white skin.  But they were unable to mock me deeply as they looked so entirely ridiculous themselves, Andy with his Pink Sombrero and black mustachio, and Dan with his Chinese style peaked hat.  I had a cowboy hat and together we were the Three Amigos.  I put on my hat and laid on a rock in my underpants so that the sun could dry me.  On sitting down I was fortunate enough to catch Dan on a rant: now that he had sampled Haggis he had to take the next step and buy a kilt in honour of his Glover ancestors that came from Scotland and then became plantation owners in America.  Apparently the Glovers were ‘good slave owners’ which is why so many slaves took the name on emancipation; this comment which was meant in the best possible taste led to days worth of relentless mockery from me and Andy.  And his pursuit of a kilt was yet another example of North Americans trying to claw back some culture that is more than 250 years old!  It was so good to have Dan there, we are fortunate that he has such a good humour and was not too perturbed by the choice of t-shirts I had given him, one that was so big it made him look like he was wearing a nightly and the other being so tight that he looked like the hulk in miniature.  But then Dan countered with the fact that the 4^th July was coming up and that we could all jump.

Crail Harbour

It is one of the great pleasures with sand sculpture that there are occasionally moments when people meet from across the globe who would have otherwise not met, and I am pleased to say that I think Dan from America and Andy from Yorkshire are to be lifelong friends. Dan reminds me of the manic toad from Wind In The Willows, he is so funny and has undaunting enthusiasm, whereas Andy is like Badger ready to mock him down and in his words “Outdan Dan.”   I’m not sure if they should meet too often as the resulting dark humour may get them into some trouble.  On his return home Dan was hankered by his wife for his vulgar language.  A real kinship was born in Crail.

Jade applying the finishing touches

As we ate our lunch Craig who is a steward for the festival came to eat with us and informed us that the BBC were waiting for us by the sculpture.  Usually this would cause me to jump to attention, but this day was so bizarre that I was to enjoy finishing my lunch.  Since 8am that morning we had had a frenzy of photographers and news crews streaming all over the sculpture and us one after the other.   I was not to carve anything until four thirty that afternoon.  I am certainly no model but enjoy posing in front of the camera like some Leonardo or chattering my Yorkshire on the telly.  It is always a cringing moment though when the photographers ask the other sculptors to stand aside so that they can take a photo of just me working on a piece of the sculpture that I had not made.  My credit to Dan and Andy for not breaking my legs whilst I was asleep.

Jamie and Graham from the Honey Pot Cafe

But the press frenzy which was reflected in the papers and news the next day was not a reflection of the sculpture, but of the festival it represented and the hard work of Debra Boraston who is the media dynamo for the festival.  It reflected the toil of the whole team who work the festival, many in their holiday time from normal jobs in the pursuit of quality in the arts and the joy of music; a vision I feel of the director Svend and his associates.

The A-Team waiting to catch a train

One thing that I did not anticipate was the hospitality of the people of the village Crail, who embraced us with open arms, Graham who let us dump 20 tonnes of dirt outside his cafe the Honey pot and complained not, only giving us coffee and the best carrot cake in Britain made by Edna; try it if you go there.  And a special thank you to Dorothy, a lady who on our first evening when I enquired “Do you have gravy with Haggis?” replied “Ach no, but you may sprinkle a dram of whiskey over it.”  At this she got up from off her stool and paced over to her house only to return with one of Scotlands finest single malts.  “Enjoy it on your Haggis, there’s enough there for a wee tipple afterwards as well!”  And indeed there was.

Jamie