Tyndall limestone - or surface patterns and form

Quoted text begins.RE: "I find it necessary to come to the stone with views, attitude
and a plan. If something wonderful and serendipitous occurs I must
excise it and create events that are intentional and capable of
reproduction. Just like a reliable pathway that can be retrod. I
cannot celebrate the ways of freedom for they are not my ways. I wage
battles of possession and rights of use to win, for a moment, mind
over matter."
End of quote.

Hi Bill,

I find that whenever I have any type of specific plan for the stone,
that something inevitably breaks or a hidden flaw becomes apparent and
I need to adjust my design to accommodate the material. I have yet to
ever (EVER!) end up with what I thought was going to be the finished
piece when I began it. It (the plan for the piece) always changes and
evolves into something new and -- quite often -- something I consider
richer and more expressive than the original concept. As far as
'capable of reproduction' well, . . . if you would consider referring
to it as 'variation on a theme' my voice would certainly echo yours.
But I am always on the lookout for that one-in-every-twenty-or-so
wonderful and serendipitous works that are a sublime, eloquent
expression of my soul. For me, those cannot be reproduced, merely
savored (though the word 'merely' seems such an understatement!).

In fact, when I go to address the mundane 'business' end of it all and
put a price on the work (for gallery owners it always seem to come
down to that!) I have what I call the 'serendipity factor.'

The serendipity factor is to address the fact that though the average
sculpture of such-and-such size usually is the result of say fifty or
sixty hours, when the similar size one-in-every-twenty-or-so wonderful
and serendipitous work took only fifteen hours -- because every step
in the process was so perfectly taken that there were no mistakes, no
wrong choices, no editing required, and this results in a seamless
collaboration between the material(s), my senses, and my skills.

Alas, because of the nature of that work, it can never be repeated.
The next one that 'pops-up' will do so quite unexpectedly, and
everything

about it will be unique to itself. When that happens it is as if
there is an upwelling of amazement in my breast, and one of those
can't-help-it-and-can't stop smiles appears on my face. I look at the
finished piece and think, "This is why I am an artist," and I go back
to the studio with a renewed vigor to see if I can unearth the next
collaborative treasure.

Perhaps a quote from Noguchi would fit into this dialog . . .

"Carving follows the possibilities inherent to the stone. This
collaboration is limited, but the other way is confrontation. What is
required is a certain irrationality which a promising stone inhibits.
Confrontation may lead to conquest, conquest over oneself, of course,
not the stone. Art is more this than compromise: to override the
inhibitions that blind."

I have always identified with his thoughts here, except every time I
read it I find myself re-interpreting that third sentence a bit
differently. How does a 'promising stone' inhibit the irrationality?
And is the irrationality always required?

Good Carving to You,
Don

http://www.dondougan.homestead.com/indexdd.html