The Part Where Nothing Happens

The Part Where Nothing Happens

We've been here before. I made the base cut, and started taking care of that overhang. There was a lot of material to remove. Some of it came off with the bow saw; you can see the nice clean-cut faces.




The piece in the middle broke out with a few blows from the point chisel, and was unexpected. That's one nice thing about doing a free-form, abstract work. Losing a big chunk early on doesn't change the plan too much. Sometimes it can actually help the project along.
And, of course, there are problems and concerns. I thought that the thin red band running across the stone would make a nice feature on the finished work. But that thin red layer is soft, and mushy. And the rock is cracked along that soft red line. You can see it continuing up into the stone on the left.





Now, with alabaster, there are cracks, and there are breaks. Cracks are just a feature of the material. Breaks are, well, breaks. The stone could easily split in two, or have a major chunk just fall out. So what to do? I considered just going ahead and trying to split the rock along the crack, or sawing it in two along the line. But that would mean cutting away a good third of this piece. Another consideration is that the material on the top side of the crack in the above picture, and the flat face in the photo below is some really beautiful clear amber stuff.




Splitting or sawing could result in two separate projects, or it could mean that all that clear stuff just ends up as scrap. Either way it's a gamble. Finally I decided to flood the crack with Starbond, and forge ahead. Next was to clean up the rough edges, round out the ragged faces, and get as much of the stone smoothed out as I can. The smoothing out is usually the first thing to do, but this is still more rock than I can lift.

So here is where the project goes into the part where nothing happens. A good part of the job consists of merely staring at the stone. That's what I'm doing.










But I still don't see. It is frustrating. I am still running on very low stamina, not much energy, and little or no inspiration. The work just seems like work, and I feel like I'm trying to boil a gallon of water with a cigarette lighter. I try to keep in mind that some of the best work I did in the past began with weeks of staring at the stone until the lights went on. I am not so confident, now.