Of everything on this console, the face at the centre is the hardest thing to carve - not because it is intricate, but because of who is looking at it.
People are extraordinarily good at reading faces. We spend our whole lives doing it, and the part of us that does it is unforgiving: an eye a millimetre higher than its partner, or a mouth a degree off level, registers immediately as something being wrong, even to someone who cannot say what. Nobody looks at an acanthus leaf that way. A leaf can be improvised; a face cannot.
So the mask is carved with the centre line preserved on the block for as long as possible - it is the last thing removed, and everything is measured from it rather than from the edges. The eyes are cut last, and both in the same sitting, because a carver's hand and eye change slightly between one day and the next.
When it is done, the face reads as calm. That is the whole objective: not expressive, not clever - simply right enough that the eye passes over it and moves on to the scrollwork.