Creators of ephemeral, painstakingly detailed sculptures, these artistas de arena work magic with simply sand, water, time & talent

Watching the sand sculpture as it took shape in the Plaza Machado last month opened an artistic door to hundreds of people who chanced upon it. The larger-than-life nativity scene included an angel hovering next to Baby Jesus in the arms of Mary and Joseph, in front of a straw-filled manger. On one side, a cow lay happily; on the other, a donkey and mother hen with her chicks.

Cousins Hogarth Rogelio Evangelista and Jair Perez Evangelista have come to Mazatlán for the past several years to work their artistic magic on a pile of wet grey sand. It takes them about a week’s worth of 12-hour days to complete their commission, which begins with a simple sketch. A wood frame is built first, which they’ll cover with about 24 cubic meters of sand that was dumped unceremoniously in a big pile in the street nearby, then moved with a backhoe up onto the cobblestones of the plaza. From there, Jair and Hogarth shovel it into buckets and lug it to the sculpture site just a few feet away.

Sitting on small stools or upturned buckets, standing or kneeling in the pile of dark sand, the men worked intently day after day, stopping to talk with passersby, pose for pictures and answer the inevitable, almost-constant, questions.

From the basic pile of packed sand, figures and details quickly emerge: faces, the angel’s wings, lumps that would become animals, the wood beams of the stable. Using an assortment of paintbrushes, scalpels and small trowels, the men work with concentration. Periodically they spray a newly finished section with water, to set it. That’s the extent of their medium and there’s no further maintenance needed.

There are different types of sand in different places, though, and they’ve learned to examine it carefully before they begin. In Cancún, for example, the grains are too tiny to work well, and the sand won’t function as they need it to.

The cousins have no website, no PR – simply word of mouth. A worn binder propped on a stool contains photos of their creations, marked with stamps from the host countries: Poland, Belgium, France, a host of African countries, like tiny Burkina Faso and Guinea, London, Venice and Rome, ice sculptures in Russia and Berlin, Holland, Jerusalem, China, Amsterdam and U.S. cities like New York and Chicago.

Besides the scope of their travels, one is struck by the diversity of the sculpture designs, mostly made of sand but also ice, bronze and marble. Beautiful woman abound, nudes in the style of the great masters of Italy, angelic beings and characters from the local folklore. There are finely detailed castles with turrets and towers, giant animals and mythological creatures, Mahatma Gandhi, Egyptian pharaohs, David’s Mary holding the dying Jesus, Madonna, Goldilocks and the wolf. They say the Christmas season is the busiest for them.

Despite his talent, years of dedication and apparent success with his art, Hogarth says his parents still pester him about getting a “real” job. They would prefer he was a doctor, like his father. He laughs, shrugs, rolls his eyes.

Marble is Hogwarth’s favorite material because of its permanence, he likes that something remains to commemorate his art. It makes him a little sad that the sand sculptures are temporary, knowing they’ll be destroyed or slowly disintegrate on their own.

“We always leave before that happens,” he laughs ruefully. On the other hand, he adds smiling, maybe it’s a good thing. “Because we’ll always have more work.”