Artistic beach mysteries
Delight a stranger, leave behind a message, escape the madness of the world
N
Not too long ago, Sonny the old husky
and I were cruising one of our favorite beach
trails when I saw something in the distance
that looked like a decapitated head on a spike.
Curious, I hurried over to inspect and beheld a
mannequin’s head made of Styrofoam pounded
through an iron bolt attached to a crumbling tres-
tle of the South Jetty of the Columbia River.
The mannequin even had a mullet!
It was easily one of the weirder and more
amusing sights I’ve ever witnessed on one of
my beach walks. I can only surmise that some-
one found the head as detritus
nearby and then mounted it via
a spontaneous and dangerous
act of climbing atop the mas-
sive boulders of the jetty to
reach the trestle.
There is no way I would
have done it.
Thank you artist, whoev-
er you are, for your danger. I
was utterly fascinated by your
effort. You gave me a scare,
then a laugh, and I felt better
the rest of the day because of
your foolhardy creation. Two
days later, the head was gone.
Two months later I was
back on the South Jetty and be-
held a bald eagle perched atop
a driftwood sculpture protrud-
ing from the pilings. I watched
the bird for a good 10 minutes
and crept up within 20 feet.
He looked very, very old and
wise. Then he lifted off, and I
saw the whole outstretch of his wings in what
felt like was slow wondrous motion. A piece of
art had attracted the eagle, and I was the bene¿ -
ciary of the artist’s handiwork.
A kelp fountain. A massive sculpture instal-
lation by the Sea God. Fifty cairns left on quar-
ter-mile stretch of ugly riprap. Tributes and me-
morials in the sand. Driftwood forts of ingenious
design. Strange feather and stick mazes. Limpets
and hairy tritons decorating burned driftlogs.
Such are some of the mysterious artistic
creations I’ve encountered in my 18 years of
inveterate beachcombing on the Oregon Coast.
There were others, too many to list here, but
the aforementioned ones stand out. I remember
their every detail. Sometimes they made me
smile; sometimes they blew my mind. I never
once didn’t come over to marvel at them. They
deserved attention and interaction.
I can almost guarantee adults made most of
these creations, perhaps with the help of chil-
dren, but in a minority of cases I would guess.
It was child’s play for adults. You could sense it
in the work.
Walking into artistic mysteries on the beach
is one of the most exhilarating experiences
imaginable, because it means someone is cre-
ating them without ever knowing or apparently
caring who will see them. This, to me, de¿ nes
pure art: the artist gives it away because the artist
felt compelled to do so. I give away my books to
cafes, bars and complete strangers all the time
and derive a monumental happiness from the
practice.
All these beach creations
are beautiful, enchanting, cor-
poreal and evanescent. They
will all most likely vanish
with the next high tide or su-
per storm that blows through.
So be it. Embrace that quality.
It heightens the sheer pleasure
of the viewing and contempla-
tion.
I like seeing impermanence
in action at the ocean’s edge.
For some reason, it makes me
want to do better, more import-
ant, lasting work with people,
animals and watersheds. Does
that make any sense? See
what encountering mysteri-
ous art on the beach does to
me? Thank you anonymous
artists. You made me reÀ ect
and reconsider, and this being
Oregon, entrance to the gallery
didn’t cost me a cent. It didn’t
cost you a cent, either. The materials were free,
too … and you didn’t have to write a damn grant
to fund your vision!
Sometimes, through the good graces of my
writing, I learn the identity of the creators and
the inspiration for their efforts. Invariably, these
real stories possess exponentially more magic
than anything I could have ever invented as a
writer of ¿ ction.
Beach artists, I am one of you now — and
an indefatigable one at that. I wasn’t my ¿ rst
couple of years on the Oregon Coast. Your art
turned me into an artist. Today, I write messages
in the sand and build driftwood forts all the time.
I leave messages inside forts! Why not? Why
not transmit mystery into the world. Why not be
mysterious? Why not delight strangers? Why be
boring? Boring is boring.
I’ll keep making mysterious and anony-
mous art on the beach for the rest of my life.
I honestly believe it is a formidable method to
Walking into artistic
mysteries on the
beach is one of the
most exhilarating
experiences
imaginable,
because it means
someone is creating
them without
ever knowing or
apparently caring
who will see them.
10 | June 18, 2015 | coastweekend.com
A massive sculpture installation by the Sea God is defi nitely
mysterious beach art.
Tributes and memorials in the sand left by anonymous artists
inspire refl ection and artistry in beach goers.
A bald eagle takes fl ight after perching on a driftwood sculp-
ture protruding from trestle pilings at the South Jetty.
heal the malaise and madness of our world. Ac-
tion on the behalf of art is consolatory — and
revelatory.
Let me issue readers a challenge: Go to the
beach right now and leave behind an artistic
mystery. Bring a friend, a team, or go solo. Use
only what you ¿ nd at the beach. Take all day or
¿ ve minutes. Tell the world via social media or
do it in complete silence.
Someone you don’t even know is going to
prosper by your effort.
Matt Love is the author/editor of 13 books
about Oregon, including “A Nice Piece of As-
toria: A Narrative Guide.” They are available
at coastal bookstores and through
www.nestuccaspitpress.com
A Styrofoam mannequinþÄôs head made one weird and amus-
ing beach art sculpture.
the arts
VISUAL ARTS • LITERATURE • THEATER • MUSIC & MORE
Story and photos by MATT LOVE