‘When I do a sand drawing, you know the thing you are looking at will never be seen in the world again’

I was born in Santiago de Chile and I grew up in Rio de Janeiro. My parents are German and at the age of nine, I came back to Germany.

My wife and I went to school together in Germany – her mother is from Waterford. We made a decision to pack our bags and start a new life together in Ireland. I’ve been living in Ireland now for nearly 23 years – no regrets.

I was always an arty head, painting a bit, but nothing serious. I’m fairly technical too, and I studied architecture for a while. I didn’t finish it, but all the technical drawing comes into play. The sand art I do is a mix of abstract stuff and really technical stuff. That’s what you see on the beach.

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We live right on the Copper Coast in Co Waterford, near Bunmahon and Ballydwan. I live more or less on top of a cliff and I have lovely beaches right at my front door. The start of it was going on endless beach walks with the kids. You see a bit of driftwood, you pick it up and you start scribbling in the sand.

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I designed a secret message to my wife – my girlfriend back then. When we went to the beach, I always left that message for her. Now we both have it tattooed on our arm as our wedding ring.

I started all this in my late 40s. The first proper drawing I did was in 2014. I got my first invitation for a global land art project in 2017. Fifteen artists from around the world were picked to create the Sri Yantra, a sacred geometrical design, on all five continents. I was one of the artists.

That was very special. I did it just 2km from my house. It’s a secret beach, the most beautiful place, but it’s tricky because you have to watch the tides. If you miss the time to leave the cove, you are trapped. In the seven or eight hours you are there, you don’t meet anyone. It is always yours.

Sometimes you do no preparation whatsoever. You walk onto a beach, soak up your environment and just get going. The design evolves itself. I also do commercial work and commissions such as birthdays, memorials and marriage proposals.

My designs range from Celtic to sacred geometry and optical illusions. Mostly I pre-design those at home on A3 and create a construction plan for the beach. There is a couple of days’ work in preparing a drawing.

I never leave the beach before the waves start erasing the drawing. I sit down and I really enjoy that. It’s like a deal with nature

I get to the beach when the tide is just about to go out, and so it reveals the canvas for the day. Depending on the location, I have between four and seven hours to create until the tide comes back in and erases the whole lot.

I always use the same four tools, no technical equipment. I have bamboo sticks and strings to create straight and curved lines, a measuring tape and a set of garden rakes.

The tidal sand contains a lot of moisture underneath, so it is bright. When I rake, it brings wetter, darker sand to the surface, and that creates a contrast.

I prefer to draw on remote beaches for the simple reason that I have peace. It’s a big concentration game. I love to interact with people who are passing and have a chat, but then you have to switch out of what you are doing. You need to concentrate, so I prefer to be on my own.

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Sometimes the beach is more crowded and people wonder what the heck is this guy doing. But people respect it. They wouldn’t walk over it.

The biggest enemy is crazy little dogs who go wild playing with a ball. They could destroy a drawing in a minute. But I don’t own the beach. When I see people approaching with dogs, I ask if they would kindly walk around. People say, wouldn’t you fence it up, but no. It’s a public space.

I don’t like it when the tide starts erasing a drawing when I haven’t been able to finish it, but mostly I have it all measured out so that I’m finished in the last hour before the tide returns. Then I fly a drone because that’s part of the whole job to capture the artwork. The images give it the possibility of living on forever.

I never leave the beach before the waves start erasing the drawing. I sit down and I really enjoy that. It’s like a deal with nature. If the tide didn’t go out in the first place, I wouldn’t have those beautiful canvasses to draw on. You have to accept when nature comes back and claims its territory. It’s a fair deal. I think the impermanence of what I’m doing is what makes it special.

I can’t wait, after working for five or six hours on the beach, getting the drone up and getting a first look on the screen at how it worked out. That is a magic moment, every time

A lovely woman approached me – she had lost her son when he was 17. On his 21st birthday, I drew a portrait of him on a beach to celebrate his life. I had to do it on a particular date, and go with the tide times. I had to start at 3am and it was minus five degrees. There is a certain responsibility when you take on something so personal.

I had an American man approach me. It was their first trip to Ireland and he wanted to renew their vows as a surprise. It was to be on Rossbeigh beach in Co Kerry where they would happen to be walking at a certain time. She was absolutely over the moon. You work for that particular moment that means so much to someone.

I’m not doing this as a full-time artist – I’m a modern dad. We had to make the decision with living rurally and childminding, that one of us would stay at home, so I said ‘Okay, I’ll step down from what I was doing and look after the kids and the house’, which is a tough job.

I’m not doing too bad with the sand art, but it’s a half and half thing. I can’t do it full time. If my wife wasn’t the main breadwinner, I wouldn’t be able to do this.

My favourite thing is seeing the result after all the hard work. I can’t wait, after working for five or six hours on the beach, getting the drone up and getting a first look on the screen at how it worked out. That is a magic moment, every time.

Whenever I do a drawing, you know the thing you are looking at in that moment will never be seen in the world again. It’s unique, it is done just once, it can’t be duplicated. I love that.

My name is Manuel Frölich – in German ‘frölich’ means “happy” – so I’m Mr Happy. Even when I am on my own, the views, the sounds of the sea, the whole package brings me real fulfilment.

- In conversation with Joanne Hunt