When a rig filled with 20 tons of sand arrives and dumps it on a beach, Carl Jara digs right in. Armed with shovels, buckets, imagination, and technical ingenuity, Jara turns massive amounts of sand into art.
Swimming pool liners, tiered like a wedding cake and stacked five to six tiers high, become packed with sand and compressed with water. Jara nimbly moves up and down the tiers, working from top to bottom — pulling away, adding to, carefully carving each tier until he’s skillfully turned those billions of glacial till particles into masterpieces.
Jara is a professional sand sculptor, and he’s been at this experiential public art form for 33 years. It’s a career that has taken him to 38 states and 13 countries, as far away as Australia. He’s won 14 world championships and earned medals at countless other contests along the way.
So how does a kid from Akron rise to the top of the sand-sculpting profession? It started back at Firestone High School. When he ran out of art classes to take, his teacher connected him to Tom Morrison, president of the International Association of Sand Castle Builders. Jara had found his fit. Under Morrison’s tutelage, he learned how to work sand and envision a business. In the early days, his only pay was a trip with free food and a free hotel room. But paired with his day job as exhibits fabrication specialist at the Cleveland Natural History Museum, Jara’s sand sculpting has become a lucrative career.
He’s been featured in the Travel Channel’s Sand Blasters and Sand Wars, and he’s even made a sculpture on billionaire Richard Branson’s private island in the British Virgin Isles. “I sunk up to my knees in sand,” Jara laughs, recalling the challenge.
Meeting challenges is Jara’s forte.
“Sand sculpture is a muscle. The more you do it, the more you know what to do,” he says. Earlier in his career, when he did as many as eight contests per year, Jara improvised his designs, making them up as he went. These days, he has a plan in mind before he tackles a sand mountain.
Although he uses sculpting tools, Jara relies the most on his hands. “I like smooth and clean work,” he says. “My hand is more sensitive to imperfections. We respond to the beauty of the material, and the beauty of the sand is that I can take it away and I can add. It allows me to adjust the piece. Light is the biggest issue. It can throw you off. When the sun comes out, mistakes are glaring. I work the entire piece and go back at different times of the day to see what’s there and make adjustments.”
To win a contest, Jara explains, a sculpture needs to have three things: “The number one factor is the ‘wow’ factor. Does it take your breath away? Does it have a concept? How well is the concept explained?” Then there is a technical component. “Are people playing it safe?”
Jara’s strength is not playing it safe, even if it means figuring out how to have a 700-pound head hang over nothing. Or creating a sculpture of a man holding himself in the palm of his own hand and repeating that four times with each identical man smaller than the last — Infinity won him a world title.
He gets much of his inspiration from his own memory. “I’m translating pieces of my life like pages of a diary,” he says.
Entropy, for example, was a sculpture of the head of a man seemingly buried to his nose, with pain etched across his face and vacant eyes, looking as if it might sink further and disappear into the sandy beach. Inside the head were family photographs. The sculpture, which won third place at the Hampton Beach Masters in 2022, was inspired by his father’s longtime dementia.
“I want you to have your own ideas about what a sculpture means. I don’t have to make it obvious.” Whether Jara is creating a work-for-hire sculpture or getting inspiration from his own life, he sees the importance of the moment. “Sand sculpting is like a symphony experience. You do it for the experience. When it’s done, it’s done.”
See Carl Jara’s sand creations:
- Headlands Beach State Park, July 10–12 (the Headlands BeachFest has been canceled, but Jara will be creating a sculpture on-site).
- Cleveland Octoberfest, Berea, Aug. 30–Sept. 2 and Sept. 6–7.