I carved what was already there.
The figure lived inside the stone.
My task was to release it.

I was a sculptor first.
Paint was obligation.
Ceilings broke my body. Will finished them.

Anatomy was devotion.
Perfection was suffering.
Beauty demanded sacrifice.

Popes commanded. I resisted.
Alone with marble, I argued with God.
Faith and doubt shared the same hands.

This profile is curated in tribute — to obsession, endurance, and the relentless pursuit of the sublime.

🏛️ Curated by CreateScene