The Weight of Winter

When winter descends upon the studio, the ambient temperature hovers just above freezing to preserve the damp plaster molds. The cold alters the behavior of stone; it feels denser, more reticent under the mallet. But the light is unmatched. At thirty degrees above the horizon, the sun rakes across the limestone slabs, illuminating microscopic terraces formed four hundred million years ago under ancient seas. To rush into cutting during such months would be an insult to the material. One must simply sit, observe the shadows lengthen, and let the stone dictate its own horizon.