keiko
kasai
REFLECTIONS
ON STONE
The process of sculpting and polishing stone reminds me of
watering a garden, and the ceremony of wetting the lips of
the dead. Water purifies and symbolizes rebirth. There is
an old belief in the spirit of water the nymph.
The
stone has existed for more than three billion years on Earth,
through periods of tremendously high pressure and heat. All
granite must come through this hard birth process, resulting
in the hardest and heaviest character in nature. Every piece
of stone is a document of its long, hard history as part of
the Earth. But stone existence gives us quiet and peaceful
thoughts.
Long
ago, man poured water into stone crevices, which froze and
cracked massive boulders. Waves break and polish stone, and
create forms. Rain falls for ages and polishes stone to perfection.
The stone which has existed for millenia is changed naturally
by the action of water.
In the morning, I pour water on the stone. It wakes and begins
to breathe. I can sense the passing of time that is alive
in the stone. In the sunshine, the stone becomes warm and
keeps the heat long into the night.
Every
stone has identity mass and grain. If I go against
this nature, my ideas will fail. First, I choose the stone,
and then the image follows. I cut the stone with diamond saws
and break it with hammers and chisels. A diamond grinding
wheel produces a rough, flat surface. Water is used for polishing
the stone, like nature does with waves and rain. The final
seven stages of hand polishing with water finally give a shining
surface, like wet stone. Through this polishing process, the
stone becomes smooth. After the stone dries, I may find scratches
or imperfections. I continue polishing until the dry stone
looks wet.
I
leave rough areas on some of the stones to show natures
work. I polish the stone to seal the skin, and to clarify
and identify the shape. When I follow the nature of the stone,
it expresses itself with unpredictable results. The final
work is a quiet revelation, which makes me appreciate the
nature of stone.
Stone
speaks quietly of time, of the world passing away and changing.
Stone was here before my birth, and will be here long after
I am gone.
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