The Pier

(click on image to enlarge)
Read Statement
bench 1 bench 2 bench 3

Bench 1
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2008

Bench 2
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2008
Bench 3
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2008
booth doreena carousel
Booth
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2008
Doreena
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
Carousel
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2008
dragon yellow submarine ferris wheel
Dragon
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2008
Yellow Submarine
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
Ferris Wheel
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2008
Hands
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
Wall Light
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
Skee Ball
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
  number two bench 7
  Bench 4
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
  Number Two
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
    Bench 7
17x11 Archival Inkjet Print
© 2009
 
                     

Artist Statement
"The Pier ”

I grew up in Southern California, where the Santa Monica Pier has gone through many incarnations. It is also one of the few places still in existence that I remember from my childhood. Sadly, my childhood dream/nightmare carnival, Pacific Ocean Park is no longer nearby in Venice, with its terrifying Davy Jones Locker, so the pier must do. I like to go there sometimes and just watch the goings-on.  There is something that always stays the same, despite the development and added attractions.  What remains, and seemingly can never be erased, is the somewhat dark, slightly honky- tonk and a tad sketchy carny atmosphere.  There is something about the place that draws me in.  It is not only the midway, the people fishing off the end of the pier, and the vendors selling caricatures and writing “I Love Jesus” on a grain of rice, but the call of the ocean to people of all ages and all persuasions.  I have been interested in documenting the relationships and interrelationships I see, primarily of people in relationship to each other and to the sea.  I also look to those things that never seem to change.  You can still try and throw dimes onto small china plates in the hopes of winning a giant stuffed pig.  And if you can’t find homemade potato chips, you can always follow the smell of the hot grease to find any number of other fried delicacies.  I hope it’s always there, but I guess I fear it will one day go the way of P.O.P. and other carnivals and small town amusement parks that struggle to survive.  This project is my way of appreciating this place, and of keeping its charms and secrets alive.

 

 

Patrica Sandler © All rights reserved.