Whenever we take on a commission, the first question we ask is simple: what is the timescale in which the work must be completed? That answer determines almost everything else — the techniques we use, the materials we reach out for, and the age-old methods we rely on to turn an idea into a tangible work of art. Sculpture is not just one skill, but a combination of many brought together, each taking years to master.
Every sculpture follows its own journey, shaped by the decisions, craftsmanship, and expertise involved at each stage. What follows is an account of what that process entails.
The traditional method begins with a raw block of stone, extracted from a quarry. Choosing the right block is an art in itself: the sculptor carefully examines each cut and performs a ringing test, listening for the dead, dull sound that betrays a hidden crack. Flaws concealed within the stone can mean the difference between a work that stands for centuries and one that fails under its own weight.
Today, machinery cuts, finishes and transports stone with precision our predecessors could only dream of, allowing artists to use the full block with barely any waste. It was not always so simple. Before modern tools, stone was split using large iron feathers, wedged into the block and struck with a hammer. This was a slower, rougher method, but one that shaped some of history's greatest works. Moving the block to the studio was once a matter of horse and cart, or barge; now it travels by heavy duty vehicles, though the rigging required to move stone safely remains a discipline in it's own.
From there, the sculptor sets to work with a surprisingly modest toolkit: a range of hand and pneumatic chisels, alongside power tools such as angle grinders and dremels, gradually shaping the stone into its final form.
Few outside the trade have heard of it, yet almost every sculptor relies on it: the pointing machine, often called a machinetta, originally known as the pantograph. Fewer still know that it was invented by James Watt, the Scottish engineer better remembered for the steam engine. The device allows an artist to copy exact points from a model onto a block of stone, transferring scale and proportion with mechanical precision.
It is exceptionally rare to find a sculptor who can carve accurate form and proportion by eye alone, a skill honed over decades. This is precisely why Renaissance sculpture is held in such reverence: those artists worked without a pointing machine or any comparable tool, relying entirely on trained sight to achieve masterful proportion, sometimes before the age of thirty. Skilled craftsmen were plentiful, but true masters capable of working to that standard by eye alone were rare. It is this remarkable ability that continues to set their work apart today.
Clay is one of sculpture's oldest materials, used for tens of thousands of years, and remains valued for its malleable nature, allowing a form to be refined again and again until perfected. From a clay original, a sculpture can be produced into almost any medium, including bronze, though the journey there is far from simple.
The clay itself must be free of sulphur, since the moulding process relies on synthetic rubber, which will not cure properly in its presence. Once the model is finished, the next stage begins: parting it into sections along carefully considered lines, so that a master can later be released without damaging the original model. This can become complicated due to undercuts, recesses and projections that prevent a simple two-piece model. A straightforward figure may part in two; an intricate, Renaissance-style composition will require many more sections to be parted.
Detail is then captured through layers of synthetic rubber, mixed to exacting chemical ratios and left to cure in warm, humid conditions. This is a considerably slower process in a Scottish studio than in the warmth of a Southern European studio. Over this is applied a rigid outer shell, historically made from plaster but today more often fibreglass for its durability, with the entire process carried out using protective equipment due to the toxic vapours involved. Once complete, this master can reproduce the original sculpture in a variety of mediums, most often sent to the foundry for casting in metal.
The tools of the trade continue to evolve. LiDAR scanning now allows us to capture an existing object, sculpture, or even a person, as an exact three-dimensional model using laser technology, invaluable for restoration work and translating a form into digital space, where it can be refined, adjusted, and used to produce models for pointing or casting. It is faster, more accurate, and often more cost-effective than traditional methods due to reduced labour costs, though it still demands the same depth of skill and understanding that has defined this craft for centuries.
From the chisel, to the pantograph, to the scanner, the methods have never stopped evolving. And of course, stone and bronze are only part of the story, with every other medium demanding its own mastery, developed through years of hands-on experience.