Ambiguous Art Carved Down to the Nitty-Gritty

On the beach at Corona del Mar on Sunday, a woman sauntered past an impressive carving in the sand, where skilled hands had fashioned a hulking mass of wet beachfront into a work of art.

“Did you do this?” the woman inquired of a man, whose knees and fingernails were answer enough.

“Uh huh,” said John DiLauro, smiling and proud.

“What is it?” the woman asked.

Art can be ambiguous.

DiLauro’s smile faded a bit as he said the sculpture was a sandcastle. And by the way, it was actually his son, John DiLauro the architect, who was responsible for the carving.

“It’s an abstract sculpture,” son John said. “A series of planes--horizontal, vertical.”

Not every castle and creature formed Sunday at the 1989 Invitational Sandcastle Competition was as open to interpretation as the DiLauro creation.

Most of the 26 entries in the competition, sponsored by the county chapter of the American Institute of Architecture, were clearly what they appeared to be: castles, astronauts, turtles, lobster and a bust of Pete Rose with the caption: “$10 says I don’t bet on baseball.”

“This contest is much more than running sand through your hands. . . . This is big-time carving,” said Loralyn Reif, spokeswoman for the event.

The competition promotes public awareness of architecture and raises money through entry fees and T-shirt sales for the institute’s educational programs, scholarships and other activities.

The participants, architects, architectural firms and professional sand sculptors had just five hours to complete their work. Entries were judged on best use of site, originality and design, degree of difficulty and detail and execution. Winners received plaques and applause.

A panel of judges--including architects, Orange County Supervisor Thomas F. Riley and Times architecture critic Sam Hall Kaplan--awarded the grand prize to a crew representing architect Joseph Woolett for a neatly fashioned series of classical columns.

First place in the “sandcastle” category went to the Newport Beach architectural firm of Dougherty & Dougherty, whose handiwork featured crisp lines and lifelike detail.

However, in the sand sculpture category, ambiguity appeared to reign. Bill Crook, owner of WRC Associates of Newport Beach, accepted without explanation the winning plaque for a what was called “a derailed train.”

“It wasn’t a derailed train,” Crook said later. “It was a spaceman coming around on a crater.”

Who called it a derailed train?

“The judges,” Crook said.