There’s something timeless about working with stone. Long before brushes, before canvas, humans told their stories and left their mark by shaping what the earth provided. For me, carving stone is a way to connect with that ancient rhythm — transforming something raw and unyielding into a piece that feels alive.
1. The First Encounter
Every sculpture begins with a single stone. I never rush this part. I’ll walk around a piece, study its shape, its veins, its imperfections. Each one has a story — some whisper of mountains and rivers, others of fire and time. I don’t choose the stone as much as it chooses me. The challenge is to see what’s hidden inside and coax it into the light.
2. Listening to the Material
Unlike paint or clay, stone doesn’t easily bend to your will. It has limits — and that’s part of the magic. The process teaches patience and respect. Every strike of the chisel, every tap of the hammer, must be deliberate. Too much force, and the stone cracks in a way you didn’t intend. Too little, and it resists. Somewhere in between lies balance — a quiet dialogue between artist and material.
3. The Process of Revelation
I like to think of carving as an act of revealing rather than creating. With each chip that falls away, the shape slowly emerges — a face, a curve, a line that wasn’t visible before. It’s almost as if the sculpture was always there, waiting to be uncovered. The work is physical and meditative all at once. Hours pass unnoticed as I follow the contours and feel the weight of the stone shift under my hands.
4. Finishing Touches
Once the rough form is complete, the real beauty begins to shine through. Sanding, polishing, and refining the surface brings out the natural colors and textures that make each stone unique. I love the contrast between rough edges and smooth surfaces — it mirrors the dual nature of the medium itself: strong yet fragile, ancient yet ever new.
5. Why I Keep Coming Back
Carving stone reminds me that art doesn’t always have to be easy. Some days, the stone resists every effort. Other days, it flows effortlessly. But every finished piece carries with it that sense of permanence — a feeling that you’ve left something behind that will outlast you. There’s humility and pride in that realization.