Graham Hooper: Castles made of sand, fall in the sea, eventually

Psychogeography, fractal landscapes and the ephemeral built-environment

Back in 1967 Jimi Hendrix recorded 'Castles Made of Sand'1 for his Axis: Bold as Love album. Lyrically it is quite unusual in its autobiographical reference to the transience of life and ephemeral nature of existence (family, love, loyalty etc.), and to Hendrix’s life inparticular (moving home in his youth, maternal attachment issues etc.)

In America it seems as though the idea of castles made of sand (better known as sandcastles to those living in the United Kingdom) is otherwise an altogether alien idea. Beaches are for surfing maybe? Whilst Big Sur has the sand it lacks the medieval architecture. Likewise whilst Bavaria might have better castles, other locations boast superior beaches.

Similarly buckets (pails to the North American reader!) are for carrying water I guess. Many reading this might also be unfamiliar with the small plastic primary-coloured buckets, used as moulds for making sand forms on beaches, in the shape of castles; those fine stately homes of the past that dot the English landscape. Once (in some cases still) owned by rich landowners or monarchs, these properties, now often under the management of the likes of The National Trust 2 are opened to the public so that we others may marvel at their interior splendor,  fine furniture and opulent upholstery. Other castles, left to fall into disrepair as a result of the prohibitive costs involved in their upkeep, and at the mercy of the elements, become mysterious, mythical ruins.


For the British, on our sandy beaches, of a sunny, summer's day, filling a bucket with sand, upending it, and tapping its bottom with (matching coloured) spade to release the sheath of plastic, will reveal a cast. These sandcastles, traditionally, are then decorated with paper flags, moats and seaweed foliage, according to taste and time.


In the mid-90’s I took a photograph whilst on a beach in Cornwall (Marazion, UK) looking out at St. Michael's Mount.3 The vantage point I had chosen allowed for a view of The Mount in the background as well as a sandcastle ‘replica’ in the foreground.

I say replica - but I have emphasised the visual rhyming myself, in my choice of framing. If the child (or adult) making the sand structure was aiming to build a facsimile of the mount behind, then it is crude and inaccurate. But it can hardly of escaped their notice that the sandcastle is sited on a beach in front of a mount that looks a little like a sandcastle. Around the same time I had seen a collection of photographs by the British photographer and scientist, Bill Hurst, the Untitled Gallery in Sheffield who had drawn visual comparisons between the self-replication of patterns in scale in various constructed and ‘natural environments.4  It had resonated clearly.

This mount has always been paired (and formally since the 11th century) with Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, France.5 It has the same tidal island characteristics and the same conical shape. In this sense the sandcastle I saw that day and photographed, reflects this pairing. They are sisters, separated in space and size, but connected in spirit, material and form.

When the tide is out it is possible, for a limited period of time at least, to walk to it from the shore. Many tourists and locals - the 35 of them who live on The Mount - do just that. It’s a strange sensation, to make that 5 minute crossing along the man-made causeway. That may be due in part to the fact the mount was once surrounded by trees; a now long-submerged hazel wood. The historic local name for the mount is literally "the grey rock in a wood”. One is put in mind of Robert Macfarlane’s walk across The Broomway 6, (nicknamed “The Doomway” as it is allegedly Britain’s deadliest path 7) though in reality walking to Saint Michael's Mount is neither isolated or dangerous. As I understand it is one of 43 tidal (unbridged) islands around the United Kingdom accessible on foot from shore.

I’m not entirely sure whether it is it a mount or an island really. The word ‘mount’ is suggestive, as a verb, of an ascent, of fixing to a support, or of organising, preparing, and setting in motion an event (such as a walk); one mounts a horse, mounts an attack and mounts a play. Islands, on the other hand, feel as though they not only are, but should have always been, surrounded by water, whilst a mount at least feels as though it would be situated on (or in)land. There is a risk that this mount, like much of the Cornish coast, is vulnerable to flooding (or even submergence) with rises in sea water level, and natural erosion.

Sand doesn’t make the best building material precisely because, even on quite small scales, it is so easily washed away. However, the quality varies greatly from beach to beach, some being sharper or more gritty for instance. But by far the greatest determinant in successful sandcastle construction is the moisture level of the sand itself - too dry and it risks dispersal in the wind, too wet and you precipitate the inevitable collapse-under-its-own-weight. Sandcastles - scaled up versions of the beach variety - would never work as human dwellings, though they would be fun and cheap presumably. We could all be kings and queens, build our own homes and even live with a sea view. Imagine entire office blocks, built by their own work force, communally and all in a day. Would we behave as we do on beach holidays (playful and carefree) or just in fear imminent structural collapse? The fact that these structures are so ephemeral is their magic and their tragedy. That said, the architect (of the The Shard 8) cites sandcastle-building as a formative influence and inspiration in his career. 9

Oddly enough constructions created in sand on beaches are called castles regardless of whether or not they are citadels. Structurally pyramids or even volcanoes would be better; more effective and efficient in form. Often ‘sandcastles’, it’s true, have a medieval-looking and fortified-form with their moats, keeps and towers, but that is the result of the buckets used as a molds by and large, which are invariably tower shaped with crenelations. The slightly conical design allows for the sand form to be easily released from the bucket mold, and that form then is better able to sustain its own weight. The forms that still maintain the mark of their builders hands (sandcastles made without buckets but instead through the action of scooping) are especially pleasing I think, where the little hands have patted the surface solid and smooth. I am touched by the ones whose forms have softened in the wind, mid-demise, but still retaining their paper flags and seaweed decorations.

Castles have associations in the imagination and references in history; knights in shining armour, stranded princesses and dragons are the source of many a child's fantasies. They allow for the mental investigation of escape and capture, safety and risk, alongside learning about tides and flows, depth and height, modelling and construction.

The sandcastle I recorded on film that day will no longer exist, washed away by tide, if not already destroyed under a child's foot first, hours or even minutes after my photograph was taken. But it will be have been replicated, time and again, by countless others since then, all under the shadow of its big sister, just 500 metres away, or its topographic counterpart, 200 miles away, across the sea.

As Jimi sang, “so castles made of sand, fall in the sea, eventually”.


1   Jimi Hendrix "Castles Made of Sand (lyrics) - YouTube. 23 May. 2015
2   National Trust: Home. 12 Aug. 2015
3   St Michael's Mount near Marazion in Cornwall. 7 May. 2015
4   Bill Hirst - Fractal landscapes from the Real World. 2012. 12 Aug. 2015
5   The Mont Saint Michel - Normandy. 2015. 7 May. 2015
6   The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot: Robert Macfarlane  2013. 7 May. 2015
7   Walking the Doomway | Bradley L Garrett. 2014. 7 May. 2015
8   The Shard: Inspiring change | The Shard. 2008. 12 Aug. 2015
9   Renzo Piano: how to build the perfect sandcastle | Life and ... 2015. 12 Aug. 2015

Graham Hooper is an artist, educator and writer living and working in the United Kingdom. He runs the Felpham Psychogeographical Association (felpham.ishappynow.com and @FelphamPA). He also writes for a number of international publications and exhibits widely.