Sandblasting vs. lettercutting by hand

["Ian Marr" <ianmarr@zzzzzzzzzzz>]

Dear Maureen & All,

To Maureen:
         See a book entitled A SCOTS QUAIR by Lewis Grassic Gibbon (James
Leslie Mitchell) which has a fine description of Aberdeen's granite quarries
& Mitchell coming to an understanding of the qualities of the stone, & its
working.I will try to find out more about the American granites you
describe: their variations and qualities sound interesting. I think that
carving for 8 hours a day can be a thrill, but for me I have serious doubts
about such hours other than a spirited elective engagement with the work.

To all:
	Granite: so beautiful polished, so functional, yet so bereft of
clarity for the cut letter. To me (from observation) it is 'la belle dame
sans merci' of stone for letters, its crystals both virtue and vice. The
colours and textures, in themselves so fine, distract from the main game,
the letterform.( I want to humbly add here that I haven't actually carved
much granite, so these are the incredibly cheap opinions of a slate lover).

The issue with work - with productivity - is: what is the point of cutting
vast numbers of little letters in record times in memorials? Why do this,
and for whom? If you are being directed by someone else, then it's simply
piecework, not a personal investment in art. If you are doing this
independently, then you may be doing something else: you are devaluing the
currency of your skills, indulging in a form of work which is
self-defeating: being prolific is no virtue of itself, unless it is in
harmony with an artist's heart and mind. If not, it will not be long before
you're exhausted with it all anyway.

Why not cut a few really beautiful memorials every year - try to disregard
an industry which has such a low opinion of itself that it values its work
(machine made or hand-cut) at $x per letter, and try to restore an Arcadian
standard.I know we all have to live, & feed our babes,but as Cyril Connolly
pointed out in ENEMIES OF PROMISE (1938) , it might be better to do some
totally unrelated work , to live by, in order to protect the core creative
endeavour of your life.

Of course, hand lettercutting has flaws in its own history: in Sydney,
Australia, one of our friends, a fourth-generation lettercutter, recalls the
workshop system at the vast Rookwood necropolis. It was not a system that
encouraged a young person to flourish or bloom. The strictures of hours,
letterforms, techniques, sculptural form, iconography, were clearly
authoritarian and frozen in time. Tradition can be a oppressor in one form
and a trusted friend and teacher in another.

(A separate thought: we work as artists in our private studios, sometimes
anonymously, and our work is seen by and benefits the communities in which
we live. The sculptor or lettercutter, whoever he or she may be, but let's
call him or her 'Bill' (as in William, or Belinda) isn't really aware of the
final audience for their work. It could be you, or me, or anyone ...

	ASK NOT FOR WHOM THE BILL TOILS
	HE/SHE TOILS FOR THEE                   Salut,  Ian Marr.