The Art of Sculpture

Sculpture is not simply seen—it is felt, walked around, experienced. It holds space. It carries weight, not just in material but in meaning. A sculpture can cast shadows, reflect light, change with the time of day. It invites the viewer to move, to slow down, to observe from all angles.

There is an intimacy in creating something three-dimensional. It requires time, touch, and a deep attentiveness to form. It is a conversation between the artist and the material, between what is imagined and what is real.

While every artist finds their own way into the work, sculpture often involves a process both physical and alchemical—one that transforms raw material into something enduring. Something alive.

Sculpture begins before words.

It starts as a feeling in my chest, a pull in my palms—a presence asking to be shaped. Each piece speaks through me, not as a command, but as a quiet invitation. I listen. I follow. And slowly, through my fingertips, soul takes form.

My work isn’t planned so much as revealed. One curve at a time. One breath held in clay. What lives in the unseen finds its way into being—rooted, tangible, timeless.

Artists don’t choose their mediums so much as they are chosen by them. Sculpture is the language that chose me.

To understand its language is to see how sculpture lives—how it’s made, how it moves, how it holds space unlike anything else.

Behind the Scenes

Every sculpture begins in clay. My hands press, pull, carve—responding to something I feel more than see. There’s no true blueprint, mostly instinct. A slow unfolding. The form reveals itself in curves, edges, postures—shaped by touch, breath, and time.

I sculpt in oil-based clay, which never dries. This type of clay allows me to work slowly and intuitively over time—but it also means the sculpture must be molded in order to last. Unlike water-based clay, which can be fired in a kiln, oil-based clay remains forever malleable. It becomes the beginning, not the end.

Once the clay is complete, a mold is made. Liquid silicone is brushed and poured over every surface, capturing the smallest details—fingerprints, skin textures, even breath-like imprints in the folds. A plaster “mother mold” is then built around the silicone to hold it safely in shape for casting.

From that mold, the sculpture is cast—currently using Aqua-Resin, a water-based, non-toxic composite resin. Aqua-Resin is strong, archival, and beautifully receptive to surface textures and pigment. It allows the piece to hold its form while remaining light enough for hanging or installation.

Each cast is hand-finished, sanded, and refined in my studio. I return to the form again and again, until it feels alive in the same way the clay once did.

Pigments and patinas are applied by hand—layered like stories, like skin. This is where the soul of the piece settles in.
Each sculpture is made to order. No two are ever quite the same.