Authenticity
In the quiet spaces between who we are and who we aspire to become, there exists a profound truth: we are both the sculptor and the stone. This reality finds its most powerful expression in the artwork Chipping Away, where a woman methodically chisels at the gray stone that encases her, working with patient determination to free herself from what she has become. The piece captures one of humanity’s most enduring struggles—the relentless work of liberating our authentic selves from the accumulated layers of conditioning, expectation, and protective hardening that life inevitably deposits upon us. When viewed through the lens of trauma recovery, Chipping Away takes on even deeper significance. The gray stone becomes a visual representation of how traumatic experiences create protective barriers that, while initially necessary for survival, can eventually imprison us within our own defenses. Trauma has a way of calcifying around us, forming rigid patterns of thought, emotional numbness, and behavioral adaptations that helped us navigate dangerous or painful circumstances but now limit our capacity for growth and connection. Each layer of stone represents a different survival mechanism: the hypervigilance that once kept us safe but now exhausts us with constant anxiety, the emotional detachment that protected us from further hurt but now prevents us from experiencing joy, the people-pleasing behaviors that minimized conflict but erased our sense of self. These protective adaptations become so automatic, so much a part of our identity, that we can forget there was ever a person beneath them.
The chisel work of trauma recovery requires immense patience and self-compassion. Unlike the stone that forms from external pressures and social conditioning, trauma-stone is often fused with our nervous system, our body’s memory, our fundamental sense of safety in the world. Removing it safely requires not just courage but also the right timing, proper support, and often professional guidance. The woman in the artwork models the careful, deliberate approach necessary for this work—she doesn’t attack the stone violently but chips away at it with focused intention. The exposed flesh in the artwork becomes particularly poignant when considered as the emergence of a trauma survivor’s authentic self. That living, breathing humanity was always there, preserved beneath the protective layers, waiting for the right moment and the right conditions to be safely revealed. The work is not about returning to who we were before the trauma—that person may no longer exist—but about discovering who we can become when we’re no longer defined entirely by our survival strategies. Recovery often involves learning to distinguish between protection we still need and armor that now weighs us down unnecessarily. Some of the stone may need to remain—healthy boundaries, appropriate caution, learned wisdom about genuine dangers. The art lies in discerning which protective measures serve our current life and which ones belong to old threats that no longer exist. The chisel becomes a tool of discernment as much as destruction, helping us sculpt a new relationship with safety that allows for both protection and possibility.
Personal transformation, like any craft, follows its own rhythm. There are periods of intense work, where every day brings visible progress and breakthrough moments that illuminate new possibilities. Then come the plateaus—those stretches where the work continues but the changes seem imperceptible, where faith in the process becomes more important than evidence of progress. The most skilled artisans understand that these quiet periods are not empty spaces but essential phases of integration. The wood needs time to settle into its new shape; the stone requires moments of rest between each decisive strike. Similarly, our psyches need time to incorporate new ways of being, to let fresh perspectives take root and grow strong enough to support the next phase of construction. There’s an essential solitude to this work that the artwork captures perfectly. While we may seek guidance from teachers, support from friends, and inspiration from role models, the actual work of self-construction must ultimately be done alone. No one else can wield our tools for us; no one else can make the choices that will determine our final form. This solitude can feel lonely, but it’s also where we discover our deepest resources. In the quiet concentration required for careful self-work, we learn to trust our own judgment, to listen to our inner wisdom, and to develop the kind of self-reliance that doesn’t isolate us from others but actually enables deeper, more authentic connections. Perhaps most importantly, the image suggests that this work is never finished. There is no moment when we can set down our tools and declare ourselves complete. The figure continues their careful work not because they are broken or inadequate, but because growth and refinement are ongoing aspects of a life fully lived. This perspective transforms our relationship with personal development from a problem to be solved into a practice to be embraced. We become less concerned with reaching some ideal final state and more engaged with the quality of attention we bring to each moment of the work. The goal shifts from perfection to presence, from completion to continuation. What emerges from this understanding is a new appreciation for the beauty inherent in the process itself. The figure at work is not merely preparing for some future state of completion—they are already embodying the highest human possibilities in the very act of conscious self-creation. The focused attention, the careful consideration, the willingness to engage with difficulty—these qualities represent the best of what we can be.
What do you think about this piece?
Artwork: Rich Diltz
It looks actually like the other way: she is trying to get rid of her humanity! If you look at the details, the colored (human) layer seems on TOP the grey core.
Max, that was not my intention…but I can see how you might see it that way. I have never heard this interpretation before. It is a great pleasure to me that people might see my work and see in it things that I had never intended and yet which might be True.
That’s a pretty cool observation! I really enjoyed reading this article and the art is so beautiful.
This piece is so interesting. I admire the calm determination of the woman in her task of embodying her true self and discarding past constraints.
I think the first time I saw this photo was in 2007. I have it saved on every device I have owned since. I would love to have it tattooed on my back. It really ‘speaks’ to me.
Jen, I love hearing that my work has inspired others. The piece was created at the end of 2001. If you ever do get that tattoo, I would love to see it!
I am honored that you love this piece so much, and that it speaks to you.
Alyssa, I like to travel around the net now and then and see how far this piece has gotten and what is being said with it or about it. I don’t know if you ever interviewed me or not…but you obviously understand me…”Diltz wants us to understand that without vulnerability and freedom we are without our humanity.” I’m not even sure I understood that at the time… it was probably something that was (at the time) and still is bubbling up from my unconscious.