There is a definite sense of comfort in the repetition of removing mass from a solid. I would have to chalk it up to an whelming feeling of control. A chisel here, a scrape there... Every time you stroke the knife over the grit of the stone-like finish you take away exactly what you wish from the form. Many times you find yourself using finesse, and repeatedly going over the same area gently, to match the vision in your head. Everything is fluid, every motion is controlled and meaningful, every tool mark is meant to be in regards to the form's structure.
Other mediums tend to do the exact opposite. Supplementing the form with brush strokes, slip, mixed media, ink, etc. Stressing the outward extension of aesthetic form by compiling mass to create. There is a great deal of unrest in this medium for me, because I strive for perfection, overcoming my physical and mental coordination as well as juggling the application of my wandering creativity.
Is it strange that working the plaster medium is somewhat a reflection of my own subconscious. I find comfort in digging for exactness, because I relate stone to my own soul. Every time I give a stone form, I take a scrape away from the rock of my own being. Not to say the accomplishment takes away from my entirety, it just takes away the unnecessary layers that do not and should not define me.
Other mediums reflect my discomfort of extenuating creativity beyond the comforts of my reclusiveness. I strive for perfection, but when it comes to my expressionism in said mediums I find that I am in a constant state of fray. No matter how many times I go over a line to make it straight, I can never quite get it right. Sadly there is no real option to repeat a stroke and carve away the imperfections, so I get pissed and end up breaking shit...
Pulse-^-
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