Stonemasonry is not just my craft — it's the lens through which I see the world.
I first encountered the world of stone when I was still a teenager living in Germany. What began as curiosity quickly became something much more: a lifelong calling. When I walked into the stonemasonry department at my trade school, I expected a temporary detour. What I found instead was a world full of sharp tools, plaster molds, dust and drawings, sculpture and the song of stone carving — and something clicked. It wasn’t just about learning how to work with stone. It was about discovering how deeply this material could connect the hand to history, the physical to the spiritual.
Since then, I’ve trained in traditional European stonemasonry through a rigorous multi-year apprenticeship and earned my German Meister — a title that carries both honor and responsibility. My training included everything from technical drafting, sculpture, and geometry, to architectural history and hands-on restoration. I've worked on historic buildings, churches, and individual projects that required both artistic sensitivity and structural precision. I’ve forged my own tools, carved my own blocks, and learned to listen to what the stone wants to become.
I’m especially drawn to the geometry and symbolism of Gothic architecture. There is something deeply human about how it reaches: upward, outward, toward light. Rose windows and Tracery — my favorite element of stonemasonry — with its careful interplay of curves, light, and meaning — captures my imagination endlessly. These are not just decorations, they are visual theology. isn’t just an engineering innovation, it's a metaphor in stone. Then there is the all important pointed arch. It allows walls to rise higher, spaces to open wider, and light to flood into places once dim. Within Gothic design, I see a sacred geometry that binds together faith, craft, and intellect.
Beyond the beauty of the work itself, what drives me is the preservation of cultural memory. Old buildings are more than stone and wood; they are living documents of human hope, devotion, skill, and imperfection. They deserve to be protected not only as artifacts, but as vital parts of our shared story. That’s why my long-term goal is to become an architect specializing in the restoration and preservation of historic structures — especially sacred ones. Whether it’s a cathedral in ruins or a quiet rural chapel, I want to be someone trusted to carry it forward, not by replicating the past blindly, but by understanding it deeply.
This blog is my way of opening that world to others — part documentation, part reflection, part invitation. If you find yourself fascinated by craftsmanship, sacred spaces, or the quiet dignity of old stones, I hope you’ll find something meaningful here. Whether you're in the trades, in academia, or simply drawn to beauty that lasts, welcome.