Coagulated fiery magma was the first tool and weapon that was reached for by a human hand. A few thousand years ago, the cult of the Great Mother — the mother of the Sun, connected the heat of fire with the coldness of stone, for centuries raising megalithic buildings in many places all over the world. The Pyramids in Egypt and the walls cutting across Asia were built from millions of rock blocks. Hammurabi’s Code of Laws and Moses’ tablets were forged in stone, and Buddhist OM mantras were embossed along mountains tracks in the Himalayas. Millions of Allah followers bow their heads before Hadjar al Aswald — the black meteorite from Kabah in Mecca, carried out from Paradise by Adam and Eve.

Granite is a kind of refractory material, suggesting asceticism of form. It is difficult to forge a filigree detail in it. It imposes synthesis and economy. It seemingly favors the creation of spatial forms. We know, however, that even a seemingly closed stone block leads to a silent dialogue with space, and space responds to its presence. Our imagination can always see it in the context of the epoch, reading aesthetic and ethic values from it — the echo of human fate. Anything that may happen exists inside the stone. The process of sculpting becomes a manifestation of what we can see with the eye of our imagination, the realization of our premonition through rejection of superfluous matter. From the initial beauty inspiring our imagination we move towards the artistic vision — the beauty of art. More than once, coincidence and characteristics of a tool prompt us or even impose new solutions upon us, more challenging than those that our imagination, stiffened and burdened with habits, may provide. Therefore, we expect an unpredictable adventure, when taking a tool and hitting stone with it.

Andrzej Strumiłło, Integrart, The Catalogue, Mackowa Ruda, 1998