Marble is extremely, extremely hard. Like every other living, breathing being on our planet, it has variations, weak points, beautiful grain patterns, color differences, and nuances that only a trained hand and eye can notice. When I moved in just down the road from Claire, I didn't realize how beautiful and transformative last summer was going to be. I wrote her a letter first. Then a shorter one. Then I just emailed her. She wrote back, "Stop by any time. I'm here most days." And even now, I still don't think I fully realize how lucky I was to have a neighbor who had spent 40+ years developing these hands and eyes in conversation with marble and natural stone.

 

 

Together, she guided me and offered her advice on how to think, move, and apply the skills. One in particular, making models for learning how to scale up to the appropriate size block, and then writing out a detailed plan before picking up the hammer and chisel, was especially gratifying for me to learn.

 

I knew that marble was going to demand patience and respect from me whether I liked it or not. And I'm incredibly happy now thinking back on the moments when my mentor pushed back on my questions or simply said, "Stop! Don't do that!"

 

The result... I'm happy with how it turned out, and I think Charlie the barn cat gave her meow of approval, too.