Zach Pine is a San Francisco Bay Area environmental artist with a unique approach to public art installations. He organizes events that engage both adults and children in hands-on creation -- using natural materials like fennel stalks and stones.
The sculptures are designed to be temporary and non-destructive, sometimes integrating projects like restoring trails, clearing brush, and then using the discarded branches, leaves and natural materials for an art sculpture.
One of Zach Pine's longest-running public events is the Earth Day Celebration at Stinson Beach on the weekend closest to April 22.
He's also involved in ongoing public and private projects that involve a similar artistic theme and environmental ethic -- from creek restoration projects that include some nature sculpture, to his Nature Sculpture Arenas at festivals and fairs where visitors can stop in to create their own natural vision.
You can see more of Zach Pine's work and upcoming event schedule at his website: Zach Pine Nature Sculpture. And for a small sample of Zach's public works, see a Nature Sculpture Photo Gallery.
You were a Selected Artist in the International Competition of Environmental Art [Paradise International Art Center, 2006]. How does one distinguish environmental art, from, say, a sculptor who's using rocks to build a permanent installation?
There's a link at greenmuseum.org describing what environmental art is. Environmental art is like an umbrella term that encompasses a lot of different practices. What they have in common is that their aims are not purely aesthetic . . . . for the most part, there's an aim that actually has to do with the environment.
There are a lot of different terms used to describe environmental art. I call my work nature sculpture. I think I'm the only person who uses that term. The term nature sculpture is just something I made up because I wasn't aware of the larger environmental art movement when I started. As I became aware, I realized there were other artists with quite similar approaches.
Andy Goldsworthy doesn't call himself a nature sculptor and he also doesn't call himself an environmental artist. But his practice is very similar to my solo work. There are other artists who do things called land art or art in nature -- or eco art. There's a lot of overlap in these different subdisciplines.
To the best of your knowledge, are you the only person in this area doing exactly what you're doing [with public participation]?
There are other environmental artists in the area, and at greenmuseum.org you'll see some of them . . . . There are none that I know of who are doing participatory art events in nature. For me, that's my primary aim right now. The solo art is a practice. If I were a meditator, I'd be doing my meditation and then I'd be doing my participatory events. It just happens that there's a synergy between my solo work and my participatory work.
How long has the Stinson Beach [Earth Day] event been going on?
This will be the fourth year.
The balls of sand are amazing. I don't know if this is a trade secret you can't learn until you actually show up, but what is the trick?
It's not a trade secret at all. I've taught hundreds of people how to do it. The secret is that you can't treat the sand and water as if they're clay. They don't act like clay. They act more like something called oobleck. It's what happens when you mix water with corn starch.
If you put just a bit of water with quite a bit of corn starch, you get a substance which is liquid until you apply force to it. And then it sort of turns solid. It's maintaining that consistency as you build the ball, and then keeping the ball in the air. You have to actually throw the ball in the air to form it -- it's like a drop of water in outer space, the water molecules are all attracted to each other. So, you can't rest it on the ground and add sand to it like you would if it were clay. You have to have it movement. It's fun to do.
You mentioned the fact that they are temporary or semi-permanent -- that the impermanence sort of represents the fragility of nature. Have you had revelations from people who've worked with you in these public exhibits in terms of their understanding of nature?
My solo pieces, especially, are intended to evoke a sense of uncertainty or impermanence. For example, I made a rock tower that was very tall. A woman came by, stood next to it and said "it looks like it will stand forever." There was hesitation and then she said, "or it might blow over any second." She was uncertain about the impermanence of it -- was it really impermanent, or were the forces of gravity and the forces of nature constant enough that it could just stay intact? For me, that was a great success to have that conversation with her about it.
I imagine that could evoke a crisis in some people, especially people who rely on a sense of so-called security in this world.
One of the things that drives my own solo work in particular is using it as a way to confront and accept uncertainty in our daily lives. It's kind of like a meditation practice in that way -- something you practice doing which then affects the way you live outside of practicing itself.
With people who have done this work with me -- especially the rock stacking sculptures -- I warn them from the beginning that you have to come in with the intention that things are going to fall over. They often comment that they have a different feeling about the world leaving [the event] -- that things are going to fall down and we're going to rebuild them. So it's not a disaster mentality I'm trying to evoke. It's more of an acceptance that we can move on and rebuild.
It's almost a Shinto concept of nature and impermanence.
I don't want to make people feel that nature is inevitably going to swallow us up or fall apart. I want people to feel empowered, to do things to help nature -- but to also understand how powerful nature is and how powerful natural forces are.