I am beginning a new sculpture with a beautiful 150 lb piece of Bardiglio marble. After spending months in the finishing stages of my last sculpture, I am abruptly reminded of the weight, hardness, and undeniable materiality a piece of stone asserts. It is an element that has, let's just say, existed forever and one that will exist forever. So when a sculpture is made of stone it evokes that timeless quality to me. Being in the presence of such a material as my artistic medium I get the sense that I am delivering its message of existence in the here and now. And having similar elemental components in my own body, its mystery resonates with my own mystery and ultimately the mystery of life. Stone reflects the sublime beauty of nature. When I look at a beautiful sunset or flower what can I say about it in all its perfection and magnificence? Words just don't cover it. But here the poet Mary Oliver comes close with her poem "Do Stones Feel?"
Do stones feel? Do they love their life? Or does their patience drown out everything else?
When I walk on the beach I gather a few white ones, dark ones, the multiple colors. Don’t worry, I say, I'll bring you back, and I do.
Is the tree as it rises delighted with its many branches, each one like a poem?
Are the clouds glad to unburden their bundles of rain?
Most of the world says no, no, it’s not possible.
I refuse to think to such a conclusion. ‘Too terrible it would be, to be wrong.