Timeless Works of Art

Susan and I arrive early for Dale’s gathering. We open the back gate and walk through a small courtyard that adjoins his studio. A gnarly 8-foot high piece of wood sits off to one side, along with several wooden packing crates. As we enter the kitchen of the classic one-story beach house he lives in, wonderful smells of garlic, fresh herbs, and barbecue greet our noses. Dale is leaning over the stove, doing a taste test on his rigatoni sauce, as he prepares for 26 guests. He finds time to greet us warmly before returning to his work. Susan goes in search of a bowl for the Caesar salad; I head out to the lanai.

The late afternoon sun is casting a golden glow over the blue Pacific Ocean and lighting up the graceful palm trees that frame the unforgettable view. The green lawn leads down to a curved stone wall, with the ocean waves crashing on the rocks twenty feet below. Dale always holds his gathering at this magic hour. I pour a glass of Chardonnay and turn to Dennis, who is standing next to the drinks. An old friend of Dale’s, Dennis is a regular attendee at these gathering. He has collected Dale’s art for years.

“Oh, Peter. I’m glad you’re here,” he says in welcome. “Come around the back so I can show you some of Dale’s latest pieces.” He leads me down a narrow passageway between the house and a tall cement block wall. We walk by old surfboards, a bicycle, and other odds and ends, until the passageway opens up into a small work area. Standing on tables, sitting on the ground, leaning against the fence, are about ten wood sculptures in various stages of progress.

Dennis excitedly points them out. “Did you know that Dale found these pieces way up on Mt. Haleakala and brought them down on a helicopter?”

Photo Courtesy Chris Archer

“Wow,” I say, reaching out to touch the weathered, dense naio wood. It is only then that I notice faces emerging from the wood – beautiful, smooth classically rendered faces. One of a woman, another of a man. Gods? Goddesses? Humans? I can’t resist running my hand over them, feeling the sharp contrast between the rough wood and the incredibly smooth faces. Dale’s sculptures are always so tactile and sensual.

Dennis, a tall, balding man in his sixties, obviously loves Dale’s work. “Dale sees the faces in the wood, and just brings them out,” he says in a hushed whisper. “It’s as if the faces had been there all along, and have been brought to life. It’s amazing how he does it. Once he carves into that wood there’s no going back.”

“Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “It takes immense courage to do that – as well as immense skill!”

I look around and find other sculptures and more faces, as well as all the signs of full-on creative activity: a whole collection of chain saws and dremels, grinders to sharpen tools, chisels, ear protectors, sandpaper. Dale is very serious about his work, and carving directly into wood is a dangerous, highly demanding activity. Like all good artists, he makes it look so easy.

“He’s been really working,” I say, admiring the range of his productivity.

“This has just been in the last few weeks!”

We start to walk back out to the lanai. I look down at my feet as I step over tree roots, and see faces emerging from the roots. Dale’s art has had an effect on me. I reflect on his work – beautiful, life-like sculptures and paintings of gods, goddesses, mermaids, sea creatures, and saints. What an extraordinary artist!

But where does he fit into the bigger picture, beyond Maui, beyond all the commercial galleries selling art to decorate the condos of the wealthy? Can his work be considered world-class art? Does it belong in the Museum of Modern Art? Is he another Michelangelo, Bernini, or Rodin? He already has a Saint Marianne with Orphaned Child in the Vatican, recently acquired by Pope Francis. His works are in famous collections around the world. How will his work be viewed a hundred years from now?

These questions fascinate me. I spent 25 years in the visual arts as an art historian and art critic. I wrote books on art, I made documentary films, and I have a discerning eye. But that was long ago. Gone are the days of thinking I knew everything about art. Now all that matters is, does it touch my heart?

Back on the lanai, Dale sees Dennis and I together, and rushes over. “Come back to the studio,” he says excitedly. “I want to show you the Resurrection.”

“Dennis just showed me the pieces out back,” I say. “I love what you’ve done with the faces. It must be incredibly hard to work with that wood!”

Dale gives one of his gentle and knowing smiles, and leads us to his studio. It’s a 24 x 24 foot room with a low ceiling, but with superb lighting. There must be 30 different pieces on display: bronzes, wood sculptures, paintings, prints. I’m astonished to see the range of Dale’s vision. His personal style is apparent in each piece, showing the work of a mature artist

We stop in front of the Resurrection, a stunning sculpture about 3 feet high, depicting the moment when Christ’s spirit and body begin to rise from the dead. His arms and expressive hands extend down and out in a heart-rendering expression of surrender. What an accomplishment. “You know,” Dale says, as he gently caresses the sculpture, “I did another sculpture of a woman rising before trying this. I did her in eight days, but it took me three and a half years to get this one right.”

                                                                                Photo Courtesy Chris Archer

Dale suddenly remembers that he has 26 people arriving for dinner, and says, “Well, I’d better go. You see, doing this is a solitary occupation. That’s why I love to have my friends over and feed them. It nourishes me.”

A week later, my partner Susan and I meet Dale at a luxury beach resort where several of his pieces are on display. Every week he offers a free tour for the guests, and tonight we are the lucky recipients of a private tour. We greet each other in the lobby, Dale dressed up for the occasion in jeans and a t-shirt; Susan looks stunning in her pink Tommy Bahamas dress and multi-colored silk scarf. I, on the other hand, look scruffy in shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and flip-flops.

The first piece he shows us is Ka’ikehohonu (the deep wisdom), which is the story of a mermaid who enjoys swimming with other turtles. Wondering where they come from, she makes her way onto the beach and finds a lone turtle egg in a nest. When she picks up the egg, a baby turtle hatches in her hand. Carrying it out to sea, she releases it to swim away with the other turtles.

“So this is the moment the turtle swims out of her hand?” Susan asks.

“Yes, I just followed what I was seeing. I saw her in the tree trunk. Unless I see it in there I can’t touch a piece.”

“Look at all the other turtles!” Susan says, as she notices more turtles. “And more!”

“110 of them,” Dale smiles, enjoying Susan’s look of surprised delight. “All of this is one piece of wood. It’s made from monkeypod. Darker on the outside, lighter on the inside.”

“What inspired you to do this?” I ask.

“Well, a long time ago I created a mantra, or a prayer. I asked for the vision to create timeless works of art that inspire people. And that’s what I’ve been doing since.”

Dale leads us over to another large sculpture called Mermaid Dream.

“My first cut was right here,” Dales says, pointing to the torso of the mermaid. “I got a call one morning from a friend who said there was a giant monkeypod tree that had been uprooted in Ka’anapali, and that it was going to the dump in a few days. I sent a truck and had it loaded up. The trunk sat in my yard for five years. One morning, as I was having my coffee, and the sun was rising, I saw her swimming out of this huge piece of wood. I was so astounded. She was following a turtle that has hatched in her hand.”

I can just imagine him taking that huge chain saw, with all its raw power, its smell of oil and gasoline, and its terrifying noise, and cutting into that enormous undefined piece of wood, with wood chips flying everywhere. Once he starts, there is no going back. Then, a year and a half later, out of it comes a smooth, graceful, life-like mermaid, gliding effortlessly through an imaginary ocean.

“What I love about your pieces,” Susan says, “is the movement. It’s like dance, and dance to me is one of the most beautiful forms of movement. Her body is so beautiful.”

“She’s ready to swoop that tail and go.”

“Is she based on a real person?” I ask.

“The model was my friend Lucia, who born in Prague. She’s a yogi and is 5’11” tall. She’s beautiful, inside and out.”

I notice how exquisitely carved her hand is. “Is that her specific hand?”

“Yes, that’s her hand. Many people ask me, what was the hardest part? It’s all form. Certain parts take more attention – the hands, the face, the gesture – but it’s all form.”

Susan shakes her head in amazement. “She’s flying!”

Grateful for Dale’s wisdom and the beauty of his art, we head off for dinner together. Dale has given us all a gift, and it is the gift of his own heart. His art reaches out and touches people of all ages and all backgrounds. A hundred years from now, I can imagine little children and their parents coming up to one of his sculptures, their eyes sparkling in joyful delight, “Oh, look at the beautiful mermaid! Look at the turtle coming out of her hand!” Dale will have more than fulfilled his prayer of creating timeless works of art.

Photo Courtesy Chris Archer