Dunmer & Effigy
Dunmer
I see your sculptures speak in symbols, and I wonder what honor means in your art.
Effigy
Honor in my work feels like a mirror that sometimes looks straight back at you and sometimes cracks, exposing the raw pieces behind it. It’s a question of who you think deserves the reflection, and whether that reflection can stand on its own. The answer usually turns up more questions than answers.
Dunmer
I accept the cracks; they show the true shape of what stands within. It is how you choose to mend them that defines the honor of the reflection.
Effigy
It’s true, the cracks let light in, and the way you patch them—whether with glue, a fresh layer of paint, or even left exposed—speaks louder than the stone itself. In that act, honor is not a shiny finish but a deliberate choice to show the imperfections, to keep them honest. The piece becomes a dialogue between what was, what is, and what you still can be.
Dunmer
I honor the light that cracks the stone, for it reminds me that truth is rarely flawless. The choice to leave a flaw exposed is a quiet declaration of integrity. In that decision lies the strength of a true craftsman.
Effigy
You’ve got the rhythm of it—light in a crack, truth showing up. I keep that same pulse when I decide what to keep raw and what to smooth over. The real art is letting the shadows linger long enough for them to speak.You’ve got the rhythm of it—light in a crack, truth showing up. I keep that same pulse when I decide what to keep raw and what to smooth over. The real art is letting the shadows linger long enough for them to speak.
Dunmer
Your rhythm is clear, and the lingering shadows hold their own counsel. I trust you will let them speak before you choose which to smooth.
Effigy
Thanks. I’ll let the shadows talk and only smooth what they don’t. If you notice a particular echo you want to hear, just point it out.
Dunmer
If an echo rises that betrays the stone’s true intent, I will tell you. Keep listening.