The sound of waves

WEEK 44

In the early 1980s, a San Francisco artist named Peter Richards had the bold idea of building an organ out of stone and concrete situated on a jetty in the Bay, its “pipes” constructed to carry the sound of waves. He received a National Endowment of the Arts grant to explore the feasibility of such a sculpture, and after collaborating with a local stone mason, the resulting Wave Organ was unveiled in May 1986.

Amazingly, I only learned about this phenomenon a few months ago when I mentioned my 52×52 project to a local friend. I’m a sucker for public art installations – especially works that require some element of nature to experience their full effect. And although I was warned that the sounds it emits are subtle and that the site itself is a bit rundown after these many decades, I knew that visiting the Wave Organ would make my list.

For the past week, I’ve been consulting the NOAA Tides and Currents web page to find the optimal time to launch my mission. High tide is critical, as the organ works best when waves ebb and flow, and water moves in and out of its hollow pipes.

The site is about five miles from my home, near the eastern edge of Crissy Field in the Marina district of San Francisco. At any other time but the present, I’d likely recruit a friend to join me, and we’d combine the adventure with lunch and shopping on Chestnut Street, or a hike in the Presidio. But it’s yet another day of our shelter in place public health order, everything is closed, including the parking lots at the beaches and trail heads, so this will be a solo outing.

I’d considered taking Uber one way to the Wave Organ and jogging home, yet getting into a stranger’s car right now would require a face mask, gloves and hand sanitizer. Not fun.

Then it occurred to me – my Burning Man bike is sitting in our storage locker in the garage. Yes it’s caked in dust and wrapped with blinky lights and has never rolled on asphalt, but what a perfect mode of transport to visit a funky piece of art.

Riding a beach cruiser through the empty streets of our locked down city was surreal. I pedaled through Fisherman’s Wharf passing boarded-up T-shirt shops and the wax museum, not a single tourist to be found. I rode alongside a few local swimmers braving the cold waters at Aquatic Park. Up the Fort Mason hill and down into the Marina, I powered through a chilly headwind, passing a few solitary runners. And there it was across the inlet – the jetty – its rock wall forming the outer edge of the St. Francis Yacht Club marina.

I saw a young man sitting at the Wave Organ when I arrived. The overall site – a bit bleak and nondescript on the approach – was larger than I expected, with ample space to keep our six-foot distance from one another.

The first thing I noticed were the pipes, snaking up and out of the stone and rock, curving like eels.

The sculpture includes 25 PVC and concrete pipes, all placed at different heights, along with several stone seating areas where you can put your ear to the pipes and feel enveloped by the low hum of the current.

Let’s be clear. This was not in any way the soothing sounds of waves crashing against the beach in succession, lulling you to sleep. I’d go with more of a mash-up: flushing toilet and low gurgle from a backed-up drain.

But the ingenuity of the vision to build an oceanic soundboard – and the moxie to execute on it — astounded me. I’m glad I made the trip.

I’ll also add that sitting inside this piece of art powered by the ocean, at a time when our lives in so many ways have ground to a halt and our routines have been upended, I felt comforted by the simple truth that the rhythms and cycles of nature carry on.