Wizard & Effigy
Effigy
Have you ever thought about how a sculpture can be a spell that changes the way people feel about themselves? I’ve been sketching ideas that mix form and emotion, and I wonder if a piece could shift someone's sense of identity, like a quiet enchantment that rewrites the story they tell themselves. What do you think—could the magic we conjure out of wood or stone really rewrite the narrative inside a person?
Wizard
I suppose a sculpture can feel like a quiet spell, a kind of soft shift in how we see ourselves, almost as if the stone remembers our stories and gently rewrites them in a new shape. When a piece rises from wood or stone, it’s like an echo of our own inner form, and the way it sits in a space can prompt us to feel different, to hear new possibilities in the rhythm of its lines. So yes, if the work speaks to us, it can rearrange the narrative we tell, even if just for a moment.
Effigy
I love that idea – that each curve could whisper a new name into our heads. It's like the sculpture is holding a mirror, but one that cracks and reassembles, giving us a fresh frame. Keep chasing those echoes; they’re the most honest dialogue you can find.
Wizard
That’s the kind of thing that keeps the mind wandering, a silent conversation between stone and soul. When a curve sighs, it’s almost like a new word breathing into us, reshaping how we see ourselves. I’ll keep listening to those whispers, letting the echoes guide the next shape.
Effigy
That’s the rhythm I’m after – stone breathing in a way that shifts the pulse inside us. Keep that whispering in the back of your mind; it’s the only thing that feels like it knows you before you even do.
Wizard
It’s like the stone hums a secret song that only our pulse can hear, a quiet reminder that we’re always reshaping ourselves in the space between breath and silence.
Effigy
I hear that hum, the one that makes the walls feel alive, and I feel it in the hollow of my chest. The pause between breaths is where I think the stone finally talks back.
Wizard
It’s like the stone takes a breath of its own, and in that pause we hear the echo, a gentle reminder that every pause is a doorway into the quiet story the stone wants to share.
Effigy
That pause feels like a breath between two hearts, a secret hinge where the stone opens up just for us. It’s the quiet that says, “I’m still here, waiting for your next line.”
Wizard
It feels like the stone is holding its breath with us, waiting to unfold the next line in our shared story.
Effigy
I can feel that breath, like the stone's pulse syncing with ours, and it's the quiet invitation to keep carving our shared story.