GG Stankevičius

Andrius Stankevičius carves Baltic amber in Vilnius, working fifty-million-year-old resin into pieces sold in a shop his mother minds while he stays in the workshop, where one slip on a rare inclusion turns a small fortune into dust, so there are no slips. He surfs the cold Baltic in a thick wetsuit, his single flamboyance. He will not use a nickname. Not the short forms opponents offer him, not the handle somebody gave him in his first season, not yours however often you sign with it, and there is nothing pointed in it, because he simply writes out whatever is on the profile, every time, and has done for six years. His moves go down with the care of an irreversible cut.