I dared not enter that risky arena. I had no body armor or hazmat suit.

A week ago I saw evidence that John Madera was still breathing his art onto our sand. It was at New York Blvd that I saw distant proof of it. But I dared not enter that risky arena.

The stick sculpture seemed to beckon me closer. But I had no body armor or hazmat suit. I’ve been warned, dear readers, of the hazards and liabilities Long Beach art can be. So, I moved to Grand Ave beach, and from that ramp, dared a closer look.

A day or two later, I saw that the sculpture was razed into the sand—the threat dissolved. Gone, ye damned beast! That was a close one. Only the memory you carry of it and my humble words about the threat live on.

“A work of art is good if it has grown out of necessity.” Rainer Maria Rilke

On New Year’s Eve day I saw the slippery desperado at work near the Allegria hotel.

I called to John Madera across our cold shore, the shore he attempts to brighten, “Should I call Long Beach Rescue to stand by?” We laughed and were amazed that the nearby piece he erected yesterday was still up a bit farther east. 

We chatted about Gregg LaPenna’s shack, Lazar’s Glizzy, and the possibility of art arising on that Lincoln beach: stick sculptures, sand mermaids, monsters, castles, caricatures, shell designs. Maybe even mandalas out of stones, shells and sand, meant to wash away as the monks of yore who made them accepted.

John thought our Long Beach city’s beach rakes might join in by carving designs across our sand canvas. Bold thought. Always creative, John.

John’s art is good because, as Rilke said, “it has grown out of necessity.” John needed the catharsis, the release in his small acts of love.

So do we of troubled minds need to breath them in, these humble but heartful becomings. We need to take them in to help us wonder, to help us imagine, to help us heal. Some of us may feel the “necessity,” as Rilke says, to breathe our own art out.

On Jan 3rd, 2015, I wrote about that New Year before us and “having a fresh page to write upon.” I wrote about us all doing small things with great love in THIS, Is What We Do.

I think many of us would like to play in our wide, white sand box, would like to breathe their art onto our sands, maybe along with family, friends, lovers. If so, we have the playground right before us, Lincoln beach or Lazar beach as I think of it. It offers, nearby hot beverages, food, restrooms, if needed.

I”m not sure what to call beach artists having fun against the rules. Not insurrectionists, that’s bad, erectionists? Maybe not.

May I suggest it simply be our new canvas, our new workshop; a place for us all to bring to the dark days of winter—lightness, love, Joy. Then let the weather, wind and waves take it—so we may start anew.

It might be best if our Long Beach City Council just recommends changes in Beach Maintenance rules. Encourage this art. Watch people come to Long Beach from distant lands like Laurelton and Woodmere to see what’s going on. So many Long Islanders want to get out of the house in winter—let’s give them an enhanced destination.

Maybe noted sand sculptor Matt Long might be coaxed to start us off.

I wrote a photo essay on Matt in Jan 2015 after he graced Long Beach with his sand art. In that essay, Matt spoke of the impermanence of art, the impermanence of everything. He also gave me a personal story that followed up on THIS, Is What We Do. It was a much-needed message in Got Gratitude? Take a Number.

When I hear about beach artists breathing out their art, I’ll take photos and share them. I heard that recently a Christmas tree made of driftwood was seen at Point Lookout and similar structures at Jones Beach. Could this be catching on, I’m asked?

Be well,

Leebythesea