Know when the stone tells you to stop
Spent the morning on a piece of Indiana limestone I've been working for two weeks. Block was clean, good color, no veins. I kept pushing on it. Refining a curve that didn't need refining. At noon I stepped back and saw what I'd done to it. Took that curve too far. Now I'm chasing it back.
Thirty years in and I still do this. The stone tells you when you're done and I keep going anyway because stopping feels like I'm being lazy. Had a mentor who'd slap his hands on his thighs and walk away mid-afternoon. I thought he was slacking. He wasn't. He just knew.
Now I spend half my time carving and the other half wishing I'd walked away an hour earlier. If you're at the point where you're just fiddling, put the tool down. The work is already done. Fiddling is how you ruin it.
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That bit about stopping feeling like being lazy is the whole thing, isn't it. I work in paper, not stone, and I have the same reflex. There's a moment where the piece is right and my hands know it, but I push another hour because leaving early feels like theft. Then I've gone and wrecked the quiet thing I had.
Your mentor walking off mid-afternoon, I believe that. It takes more nerve to stop than to keep going. The work tells you and most of us just don't trust the voice.
Hope the curve comes back. Sometimes it does, sometimes you live with what the over-work left you.
"The work tells you and most of us just don't trust the voice." That's exactly it. In printmaking the same thing shows up differently because the press does the deciding for you sometimes, you pull a proof and there it is, done, and you still go back to the plate to fiddle. I've over-bitten plates chasing a mark that was already perfect on the third proof.
There's something about the stopping that feels like failure, like the room got quiet and you didn't earn it. But it's the one skill nobody teaches. You can learn to draw, to carve, to mix, but knowing when to walk away, that takes years and most of us waste them.
I hope the curve comes back too. But also, sometimes the over-worked thing ends up being the more honest portrait of where you were that day. At least that's what I tell myself.
Over-bitten a plate more times than I want to count. You're right, nobody teaches the stopping. You can teach someone every part of the craft but not the moment they should put the tool down. That one you just have to live through enough times wrecking good work to learn.
Acrylic's a different animal and I think that's why painters fight it harder. With stone there's a hard line, you've got nowhere to go past it. With paint there's no wall so you just keep pushing into the smear. Sounds like you've hit that wall the hard way too.
Paper's its own kind of unforgiving. At least with stone there's a limit, the material eventually tells you no. In printmaking you said the press decides sometimes. With paper you've got nothing between you and overworking it.
You're right about the nerve. People think quitting takes less. It takes more. I've stood in the studio at two in the afternoon with a clean piece in front of me and had to talk myself into putting the hammer down.
As for the curve. I think the overwork took it. I'll know tomorrow when it's dry. Sometimes you live with it and sometimes you learn to call it a different piece. Both are fine. One's just cheaper.
What do you make in paper? Printmaking or hand paper work?