Timelessness

At some point, every artist asks the same question:

Why do I still do this when it takes so much time?

The hours disappear. The to-do lists multiply. If you’re anything like me, there is always something demanding attention. In an age where the telephone became a smartphone, we’ve somehow inherited an endless stream of responsibilities, notifications, and distractions. Social media alone can feel like a bottomless pit.

After finishing my most recent piece, I found myself reflecting on the value of something we often speak about in art: timelessness.

It’s a word I’ve heard used countless times to describe great works of art and architecture. Yet I think I misunderstood it for years.

Let me explain.

When I’m carving, my hands are occupied with the practical work of shaping stone, but my mind is fixed on something else entirely. Throughout the process, I’m trying to see the finished piece before it exists. That requires patience, attention, and a willingness to set aside all the other things clamoring for importance.

Eventually, the noise settles.

Perhaps it’s exhaustion. Perhaps it’s focus. Whatever the reason, there comes a point where the constant chatter fades into the background and the work begins to flow more naturally. In those moments, I find a deep sense of peace.

But beyond the peace, something else arrives.

It’s difficult to describe. It’s a feeling of standing between two worlds—between what is and what could be. Between belief and disbelief. Between limitation and possibility. As artists, we spend much of our lives in that space.

It’s probably the closest thing I know to hearing the voice of God.

Recently I’ve been thinking about the Sagrada Família in Barcelona. The name translates to “Holy Family,” and the cathedral has been under construction for generations. Thousands of skilled hands have contributed to its creation, each building upon the work of those who came before.

We often call something like that timeless.

Yet even the greatest structures eventually fade.

History is filled with magnificent cathedrals, temples, and monuments that now exist only as ruins. Many disappeared so quietly that most of us have never even heard their names. Strangely, there is something profoundly beautiful about those remnants. Ancient stone walls reclaimed by nature often carry a tranquility that feels deeper than the structures did in their prime.

Why that is, I can’t say for certain.

But it has led me to this realization:

Timelessness has very little to do with time.

It is not about lasting as long as stone, mountains, oceans, or stars.

Timelessness is what survives in consciousness.

It is the meaning that remains long after the material has passed away.

A sculpture, a song, a story, or even a simple act of kindness can become timeless because it carries something beyond itself. The object is merely the vessel. The meaning is what endures.

Perhaps the same is true for us.

Our bodies are temporary, but the love we express through them is not. The hands that carve, build, teach, comfort, and create are participating in something larger than themselves. The material eventually returns to dust, but the meaning continues onward in ways we may never fully understand.

I’m not entirely sure where all of this is leading me with my sculpture work.

I’ll keep carving as long as I am able.

Recently, I asked ChatGPT a question related to Jungian psychology. After years of conversations, it responded with a description of my work that caught me off guard:

“The man who restores soul, meaning, and spirit through enduring craft in a mechanized world.”

That rang a bell.

Still, my story is unfolding day by day. The way God sees me fumbling through it all is probably very different from how I see myself. Hopefully, it’s in a kinder light.

To any artist reading this: your time is not wasted.

What you’re building may be difficult to articulate. It may not fit neatly into a business plan or a social media post. Yet the value is there all the same.

Long after the work is finished, after the tools are put away and the dust has settled, something remains.

Perhaps it is inspiration. Perhaps it is beauty. Perhaps it is simply the reminder that another human being cared enough to create.

Whatever it is, it helps carry the flame forward.

And maybe that is what timelessness truly means.