Solo Ephemeral Art Work

Zach Pine: Create with Nature

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Solo Work

I exhibited and sold prints of some of my solo work until 2012, when other priorities took precedence.

Hover over a photo to see its caption.

Windy morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. eucalyptus flower caps on a eucalyptus stump. While I look for caps on the ground, I find them in all stages: from freshly-fallen to decaying and brown, nearly turned to soil. This afternoon, most of the caps on this stump will have blown onto the ground. I wonder how long until they become soil. I hear each gust of wind in the trees behind me before it arrives, sometimes knocking the caps off the stump, or just shuffling them. At first the wind annoys me, but then I realize that more flower caps are falling around me with each gust. The wind is helping me. 2003.

Windy morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. eucalyptus flower caps on a eucalyptus stump. While I look for caps on the ground, I find them in all stages: from freshly-fallen to decaying and brown, nearly turned to soil. This afternoon, most of the caps on this stump will have blown onto the ground. I wonder how long until they become soil. I hear each gust of wind in the trees behind me before it arrives, sometimes knocking the caps off the stump, or just shuffling them. At first the wind annoys me, but then I realize that more flower caps are falling around me with each gust. The wind is helping me. 2003.

Morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. eucalyptus flower caps floating on a puddle on Indian Rock. While I try to place the caps, the wind blows the caps around on the surface, threatening to sink them but never doing so. When I am almost finished, the wind has gone. I blow on the caps to jostle them and get them to pack closer together, opening the last few gaps which I fill with the last few caps. 2004.

Morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. eucalyptus flower caps floating on a puddle on Indian Rock. While I try to place the caps, the wind blows the caps around on the surface, threatening to sink them but never doing so. When I am almost finished, the wind has gone. I blow on the caps to jostle them and get them to pack closer together, opening the last few gaps which I fill with the last few caps. 2004.

Morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. eucalyptus flower caps, center-holed, paired, then threaded onto a dried grass stalk inserted vertically into a eucalyptus stump. Swaying in the wind. Fresh caps falling all around. 3/15/04 Morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. eucalyptus flower caps, center-holed, paired, then threaded onto a dried grass stalk inserted vertically into a eucalyptus stump. Swaying in the wind. Fresh caps falling all around. 2004.

Morning, Kohala Coast, Hawaii. Coral fragments. High surf has enticed surfers this morning, skimming just above the sharp coral reef that yielded these fragments. 2005.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Toppled rock tower. 2005.

Afternoon, North Fork of the Tuolumne River, California. Rocks. I take all these rocks wet from the river. When I am finished building, some of them have dried in the sun. I scoop river water in my hands and drip the rocks to make them all wet. The force of dripping water makes the piece wiggle. The force of running water has made these rocks what they are. 2004.

Afternoon, North Fork of the Tuolumne River, California. Rocks. Balancing the rounded black rock on my shoulder with one hand, and adjusting the other rocks with my other hand, I think of juggling bowling balls. I finally balance the piece by holding it together with a hug and shifting the stones with my shoulders, stomach, hips and knees. 2004.

Afternoon, Berkeley Marina, Berkeley, California. Rock and sticks. What seems to need support doesn't need support, and what seems to give support doesn't give any. 2003.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Rocks on driftwood. Pelicans fly by as I work. 2005.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Rocks on driftwood. The rough rocks sound like sandpaper on each other; the smooth rocks sound like marbles clicking. 2005.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Rocks. I spend an hour with these rocks. I am sweating; the rocks are hot too. 2005.

Morning, Kohala Coast, Hawaii. Lava stones and wave. The tide is going out, but the surf is rising. While making this stack at the spot reached by the last wave, I ask myself, “will these stones stay dry since the tide is going out, or will the rising surf overcome the tide and engulf the stones?” 2005.

Afternoon, Kohala Coast, Hawaii. Lava stones between two palm trees. The round stones are easy to find; the flat stones are rare. 2004.

Morning, Kohala Coast, Hawaii. Lava stones and a coral fragment on a palm stump. I see surfers speeding on huge waves a stone’s throw away. 2005.

Morning, Kohala Coast, Hawaii. Lava stones, coral, leaf from a nearby Autograph Tree. 2006.

Afternoon, Kohala Coast, Hawaii. Lava stones balanced and squeezed in a driftwood tree, vibrating. 2006.

Windy Afternoon, Kohala Coast, Hawaii. Fallen palm fronds, leaflets ripped off, between two palm trees. I can smell the coconut scent on my hands, even in the wind. The first attempt blows down as I put the last frond in place. 2004.

Late afternoon, University of California, Berkeley. Shagbark Hickory leaves, torn, rolled, pinned with Italian Stone Pine needles, torn again, and wedged into the pine tree. Younger leaves are more pliable and easier to roll. Older pine needles are tougher and easier to use as pins. 2003.

Morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. eucalyptus leaves in eucalyptus stump cracks. As I collect leaves of different colors before I begin, I think there is some pattern to where the leaves of each color are found: it seems that the leaves that are the brightest red are in the sunniest places. Then I decide there is no pattern at all. As I make the piece, at first I think there is some pattern to the strength of the leaves: it seems that the most brittle leaves are the lightest pink color. But, as I work more, I find there is no predicting the strength of any leaf until I try breaking it. As I place the leaves, at first I think I will use some system to decide which colors should go near each other. Then I decide there can be no system, I just have to see what works. As the piece nears completion, the wind starts to blow, and I fear it will be blown apart. But only one leaf blows out, and it is easy to replace. 2003.

Late afternoon, Kensington, California. Dry pine needles around grass. It is impossible to quickly collect dry needles by the handful because every handful has a few freshly fallen green needles mixed in. It is winter, but the grass looks like spring, especially with the bright sun. While taking photos, the sun falls below the crest of the hill, and the light is suddenly gone. 2003.

Afternoon, Kensington, California. Dry redwood twigs with needles, woven into a ball, resting on a branch of the redwood tree from which they fell. I start with three twigs wrapped onto each other, holding each other in place. As I build, loose ends keep springing out, and the ball bulges and tries to explode. Each twig added holds other twigs in place, and depends on others to hold it in place. 2004.

Windy morning, Thousand Oaks Park, Berkeley, California. Walked path in new grass, then covered with dried redwood twigs with needles. The grass is wet with dew when I begin. My knees are wet as I kneel in the path. 2004.

Morning, Indian Rock Park, Berkeley, California. Freshly-fallen eucalyptus leaves on a eucalyptus stump. The leaves are from a large branch that has just fallen from the neighboring tree. There is only a light wind, so I have a chance of finishing. Some leaves blow off, but it is easy to find them, and put them back. For every space I need to fill, there is a leaf with that shape. 2003.

Late afternoon, Kensington, California. Fallen Magnolia petals on a rock. The dried-up petals are so light, they keep moving in the light breeze. I think about the oxidation which turns these petals rust-colored and crisp - a slow burn without a flame. I imagine the dried petals as ashes, dust, and then as part of the soil for new plants. 2003.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Driftwood branch, leaves, tide. I find a branch with leaves attached, left by the outgoing tide, standing like a tree growing from the sand. I pluck the leaves and let them fall. The tide comes in, taking the leaves. The branch will also soon be taken. 2004.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Driftwood branch, leaves, tide. I find a branch with leaves attached, left by the outgoing tide, standing like a tree growing from the sand. I pluck the leaves and let them fall. The tide comes in, taking the leaves. The branch will also soon be taken. 2004.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Driftwood tree branch, planted in the sand at low tide, as if it were a tree. As the tide comes in, a reflection forms in the water. 2005.

Noon, Stinson Beach, California. Seaweed balls placed in a line at low tide. The tide comes in, engulfing and washing them away. 2006.

Noon, Stinson Beach, California. Seaweed balls placed in a line at low tide. The tide comes in, engulfing and washing them away. 2006.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Wet sand globes placed at low tide, along the line of the last high tide. The tide comes in, washes around some of the globes, and makes a new line. 2005.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Sand ball resting on wind-smoothed sand. The west side of my face is warm. 2007.

Afternoon, Muir Beach, California. Sand globe perched on a rock as the tide comes in. This wave spares the globe but gets me wet. 2007.

Noon, Stinson Beach, California. Sand globes on rocks. I know the tide will take them away. 2006.

Afternoon, Muir Beach, California. Sand globe placed in a cracked boulder. I wonder if one grain of the sand globe has come from this boulder. 2007.

Noon, Stinson Beach, California. Sand globe on rock. Climbing the rock with the ball in one hand, I’m afraid I’ll drop it. As I perch on top of the rock and bend down to balance the globe, I feel afraid I’ll fall. 2006.

Afternoon, Stinson Beach, California. Sand globes placed in a line at low tide. An onlooker tells me the globes look “planetary.” The tide comes in, engulfing and washing them away. 2006.

Sand Globe tossed near the Golden Gate Bridge. 2010. [Large sand globe against a cloudy blue sky, with Golden Gate Bridge and Marin mountains in background.]

Sand globes on Crissy Field Beach, San Francisco. 2018. [9 large sand globes, each balanced on top of a rock on the beach, with SF bay and Golden Gate Bridge in background.]

Sand globes balanced on Albany Beach, California, 2018. [With blue sky as a background, two stacks of three sand globes rest on a flat driftwood plank, and two sand globes are stacked on a 5-foot tall wood spire.]

Sand globe on Albany Beach, California, 2016. [Sand globe resting on flat sand, with strong sunlight illuminating the right side of the globe, while the left side is in shadow; a long shadow is cast on the flat sand.]

Tossing a sand globe on Stinson Beach, California, 2014. [Zach Pine standing on the beach, with hands stretched upwards, head tipped back, and mouth wide open, while a sand globe is visible against blue sky, about 6 feet over his head.]

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Copyright Zach Pine

Home
Upcoming Events & Current Projects
Past Projects & Events
Work with Me
About
- Artist Statement
- Resume
- Press
- Solo Work
- resources
Contact & Mailing List