Sculptor & Silas
Silas
I’ve been thinking about how time leaves its own mark in the things we create—like a block of stone slowly revealing a hidden shape. What do you feel when you watch a piece transform over days, and what kind of moments inspire you to keep sculpting?
Sculptor
I feel the same quiet heartbeat that the stone has. Watching a shape emerge, day by day, is like watching a secret whispering itself into being. It’s when a gesture or a feeling just refuses to stay hidden—when the clay or stone seems to pulse with life—that keeps me moving, chisels in hand, hoping to capture the moment before it slips away.
Silas
It sounds like you’re listening to the same quiet pulse that carries us through our own stories—quiet, persistent, always nudging us toward the next detail. When that pulse feels almost alive, it’s like the world is holding its breath, waiting for you to catch the whisper and turn it into something tangible. Keep your chisel steady; that moment you catch is the one that will live beyond the stone.
Sculptor
I hear that breath, too, and it makes my hands shake in a good way. It’s the small, stubborn detail that keeps pulling me back into the work, reminding me that every touch is a chance to hold onto something fleeting. The moment you described? That’s the one I’m chasing.