Stonemasonry has never felt like just a trade to me — it’s a discipline where history, design, and physical craftsmanship meet. During my three years of formal training in Germany, I was fortunate to be surrounded by instructors who embodied the legacy of this craft. I studied under skilled masters in both workshop and classroom settings, and it was there that the foundation for everything I hope to do was laid.
Our days were filled with the rhythm of chisel and mallet, the structure of technical drawing, and the stories of ancient walls and monuments. I learned how to understand and shape stone, how to read its breaks and work with its natural form. In sculpture classes, I worked in clay, plaster, and mold-making — exploring proportion, weight, and expression. In technical lessons, I developed an eye for measurement and precision. But what stayed with me most was the historical context: how buildings were constructed and why, how their shapes served both spiritual and structural purposes, and how our work continues a story far older than ourselves.
What began as an education in masonry soon evolved into a deeper commitment. The more I learned, the more I wanted to guide and preserve. Not only to shape stone — but to shape the future of the craft. I began to see myself not just as a tradesperson, but as someone who could lead, who could teach, and eventually, who could take responsibility for the full restoration of historic buildings.
That’s now the path I’m preparing for. I’m steadily laying the groundwork toward becoming a lead architect — a specialist in the restoration and preservation of historic sites, particularly in Scotland. I plan to pursue a degree in architecture and deepen my studies through targeted certifications in historical building conservation and sacred design. I want to combine my hands-on training with architectural leadership — not stepping away from the craft, but growing within it, learning to guide teams, manage large-scale restorations, and make meaningful decisions about design, history, and integrity.
In the meantime, I stay connected through books, media, and constant observation — walking cities, visiting cathedrals, and absorbing all I can. This blog is a part of that journey: a place to reflect, to share, and to keep the craft alive in word as well as stone. The tradition of stonemasonry depends on its ability to evolve while honoring its roots. I hope to be part of that evolution — as both student and teacher, craftsman and architect, guardian and builder of what came before.