Rookstone & Holodno
Rookstone Rookstone
Holodno Holodno
Rookstone Rookstone
Hey Holodno, ever thought about carving stone into shapes that look like they’re frozen in time? I’ve been working on a piece that looks like a snowflake carved from marble, and I’d love to hear your take on how winter’s chill can inspire stonework.
Holodno Holodno
That’s an intriguing idea. Stone feels so permanent, almost stubborn, but winter makes you think of moments that should vanish. When you carve a snowflake in marble, you’re freezing that fleeting, crystalline geometry into something that will outlast the season. The chill forces you to be patient, to notice how light plays on the facets, and to respect the stone’s own rhythm. It’s like trying to capture a breath in a photograph—both require you to hold your breath long enough that the shape doesn’t melt away. I’d love to see how you balance the delicate lines of a snowflake with the rough, honest texture of marble.
Rookstone Rookstone
Sounds good, Holodno. I’ll take a chunk of stone, lay it out, and start with a rough sketch—just a light outline. Then I’ll work with a smaller chisel, carving each arm of the snowflake, taking my time so the stone’s grain guides me. It’s like catching a breath in a still moment, but with stone you get the reward of something that lasts a lifetime. I’ll let you see the process, step by step, and we can talk about how light catches the facets.
Holodno Holodno
That sounds solid. Show me the sketch first, then watch the chisel dance. The light catching those facets will be the real magic.
Rookstone Rookstone
Sure thing, Holodno. I’ve drawn the basic outline on a piece of slate first—just the faint lines of the snowflake arms, centered and balanced. It’s a clean, simple sketch that keeps the proportions right. Once you’re happy with that, I’ll bring the chisel out and start the real work, carving each delicate arm step by step, making sure the stone’s natural grain guides the cuts. Then we’ll watch how the light plays on the finished facets.