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Testing AI in My Sculptural Process

After writing my previous article about AI and the creative process, I decided to put theory into practice and explore how I could apply these ideas to my own sculptures using ChatGPT — to see just how far this collaboration could take me.

Even though my practice is deeply rooted in physical sculpture, not digital art, I was curious to find out whether AI could still play a meaningful role in my creative process. I wasn’t interested in having AI replace me — but rather in using it as a tool to expand my vision, to see if it could offer new perspectives or spark new ideas I might not have reached on my own.

To my surprise, this process turned out to be much more challenging than I expected. AI is indeed powerful, and while many people claim it can replace artists, those who truly work with it know that using AI effectively is an art in itself. You need to art-direct it, refining your prompts and guiding its output with precision until the results align with your vision.

This is exactly what I set out to do — providing an initial starting point and progressively giving AI clearer directions about what I wanted and what I didn’t want based on its responses.

To begin, I used a photo of one of my sculptures as the starting reference and paired it with a simple prompt to see what the AI would create from it.

Based on this simple prompt, this was the answer:

Yes, I can definitely help you with that.

I see from your uploaded image that your sculpture carries a very distinctive style — fragmented, almost archeological, with a sense of both monumentality and incompleteness. It blends figurative accuracy (especially in the face and torso) with abstraction (the cut forms, absence of limbs, rough vs. polished surfaces). It has a powerful psychological weight, almost like a relic unearthed from another time, yet modern in its treatment of space and void.

If you’d like, I can generate imaginary sculptures in this same style. For example:

Possible Imaginary Sculptures in Your Style

  1. Fragmented Guardian
    A towering bust of a figure with one half of the face missing, the other hyper-detailed, with the torso cut diagonally as if unearthed. Surface textures contrast smooth anatomy with rough clay striations.

  2. Echo of Motion
    A torso leaning dramatically forward, arms cut away at the shoulders, but with incisions in the clay suggesting where muscles would pull in motion. The head slightly tilted, eyes hollow, like a mask.

  3. Silent Dialogue
    Two figures back-to-back, both missing the frontal face planes. One side smooth, the other eroded, playing with duality and absence/presence.

  4. Cosmic Vessel
    A bust with a hollowed-out chest cavity, where negative space becomes the main form. The edges crisp and geometric, contrasting with organic clay textures.

  5. The Witness
    A partial head and upper torso, one eye deeply recessed and shadowed, the other left as a void. The surface etched with subtle linear patterns, giving the impression of erosion by time.

So as you can see, it really captures the esesnce of the work, let’s now see what it does with it visually.

So as you can see, the AI makes its own interpretation and creates something entirely new from the input. The quality of the results is truly mind-blowing — especially in terms of rendering and form — but when it comes to design and artistic intention, there’s still a lot of work to do before I get something I can actually use.

That’s where my role as an artist comes in. The next step is to refine the direction — to teach the AI more about my sculptural language and to bring it closer to my aesthetic goals.

So here’s what I decided to change next:

There is definetly an improvement, so I carry on directing this thing…

At this stage, things started drifting a bit off track—but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. This is part of the creative process: experimentation, trial, and adjustment. In art, as in life, you often need to explore different directions before finding what truly resonates.

So I decided to feed the AI with more information, refining my prompts to help guide it back toward my vision and see if we could realign with the essence of what I was originally aiming for.

This is by far the best result I’ve managed to get from the AI so far. It’s beginning to understand the direction I’m aiming for, and while it’s still quite primitive, it’s starting to produce outcomes that have potential. The results are often stylized human figures—generic in form, but with glimpses of something interesting. Still, they don’t yet reach the level of a cohesive design I could actually work from.

So, I kept feeding it more information, trying to steer it closer to my vision. But from this point onward, things started to drift off completely. The AI went in directions that didn’t make sense for sculpture—at one point, it even forgot we were working with clay and added hair to the piece, which is completely out of context. Have a look:

Conclusion

After spending a few hours experimenting with AI, my takeaway is that yes—it has enormous potential, but it’s not nearly as easy to use as it might seem. It often wanders off in unexpected directions, which can be creatively inspiring, but once you try to focus on a specific outcome, things get tricky. It’s like working with an over-energetic child who keeps getting distracted—full of ideas, but hard to keep on task.

This was just an initial attempt. I’m sure that with more time and by exploring different AI tools, I could achieve other results —maybe not better, but certainly different, I might give it another go another time, it is definetly worth exploring. In the digital world, these tools are incredibly powerful, offering endless possibilities. However, translating that level of imagination into the physical world of sculpture is another story altogether.

AI is far from magic. It’s fascinating, yes, but it still requires artistic direction and a clear vision to turn randomness into meaning. Another thing that is interesting to point out is the stylised nature of the outcome, sometimes giving images closer to marvel movies than a 19th century sculpture even though I told him so.  That said, given how fast this technology evolves, it may only take a few months before it reinvents itself yet again.

I hope you found this experiment insightful—and if you’re curious, give it a try yourself. Share your own results in the comments below; I’d love to see what you come up with.

Until then, thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this article, consider subscribing to my newsletter to get more insights on sculpture, creativity, and early bird discounts for upcoming workshops.

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AI and the Creative Artistic Process

AI has clearly arrived and is here to stay, creating significant concern across industries, particularly in the creative sector. While we still don’t fully understand its ultimate impact or how dramatically it will reshape established workflows, the potential is undeniable. We can already see this transformation in our daily lives—from apps that bring inanimate objects to life to AI-generated videos proliferating across the internet. The capabilities are simply mind-blowing.

For those unfamiliar with how this process works, let me illustrate with an example from a friend of mine, Pete O’Connell. He works as a compositor for Weta Digital and is something of a tech guru who loves exploring the possibilities of cutting-edge tools.

Using ChatGPT, Pete began with simple tasks: “Create a symmetrical image using a tree,” or “Generate a 2D mapping of an industrial pipe network,” or “Make a picture of a person crossing the desert on a camel.” For each prompt, you can refine the outcome iteratively. For instance, after seeing the desert crossing image, he might say: “Bring the camera closer to the person. I want it to be a woman in her 40s. Make it more photorealistic. I want to feel the atmosphere and heat, and perhaps make the sand pink instead of yellow.” This process continues indefinitely until you achieve the desired result.

Through this method, Pete created an entire series of AI-generated images that could easily pass for movie stills. His secret was using extremely detailed prompts to maintain greater control over the final output, feeding the AI as much specific information as possible to guide it toward his vision.

Another compelling example is Steve Johnson, a legendary figure in practical effects who designed creatures for films like The Abyss, Ghostbusters, and Poltergeist—work few people can match. He’s been experimenting with AI as well, posting images on his Facebook page while firmly stating: “I will defend that producing these images is an artistic process, and I will defend that until my last day.”

My final example comes from Instagram, where I recently discovered an artist whose work literally stopped me in my tracks, his name is @gOnaji. Every video is AI-generated, yet they depict surreal worlds filled with decaying dancing figures mixed with uniforms from different historical eras, colorful costumes in underwater environments blending with wind and dust. The realism is almost unbelievable—reminiscent of the visual aesthetics in The Cell starring Jennifer Lopez. This artist must invest countless hours behind the computer to generate these extraordinary images.

These examples help illustrate how AI functions as an assistant—an incredibly powerful one. Moreover, each AI system can be trained to your specific needs. As you use your AI platform, you’re essentially training your assistant with the information you provide. It learns from you and adapts to your requirements, understanding your communication style, tone preferences, and quality expectations. This personalization makes it remarkably special, like a custom-tailored tool designed specifically for you.

Steve Johnsons work.

This is why artists like Steve Johnson legitimately claim AI-assisted creation as an artistic process. However, this development amplifies an ongoing debate in the art world. Since the Avant-garde movement, art has experienced continuous upheaval as established historical foundations were challenged and conservative perspectives shifted through the work of artists like Rodin, Picasso, Monet, and Duchamp. The past century’s artistic evolution has steadily deconstructed traditional definitions, creating a landscape where almost anything is possible. Today, we can encounter virtually any form of expression in art galleries—which is liberating for human creativity but also somewhat unsettling.

Now AI can create virtually anything you desire, provided you have the patience to guide it properly. This raises a challenging question: Do you agree this constitutes a genuine creative process? I do agree, though not without reservation. It is indeed an artistic process to achieve these results. The concern is that theoretically, anyone can now be an artist. While this democratization opens unprecedented opportunities for self-expression, does it lower the bar for artistic practice? Or does it simply make the field more competitive?

@gOnaji's video work

Exploring possibilities has always been fundamental to artistic practice. What distinguishes artists is what they do with those possibilities. I see AI as a tool for generating raw material that artists can then transform into something meaningful. Why shouldn’t we use it to spark our own ideas and incorporate them into our work? Is this inherently problematic?

Consider historical precedents: Before photography became commonplace, painters worked from direct observation. Today, nearly 90% of figurative painters work from photographic references. Is this wrong? Sculptors once worked exclusively with metals, marble, and wood until resins were developed. Now various synthetic materials are as common as traditional media. Were these mistakes?

AI represents simply another evolutionary step. Even if we resist it, it won’t disappear. It’s like mobile phones—virtually nonexistent in the 1990s, now nearly universal. We adapted and learned to live with them.

The solution lies in learning to leverage AI and navigate its integration into our creative processes. This is easier said than done, but history offers guidance. Printers didn’t eliminate hand made paintings —they evolved together. Similarly, AI and 3D printing won’t replace human creativity—they’ll evolve alongside it. Skills and talent will always be admired and respected. In fact, as these tools become ubiquitous, I believe natural talent and traditional skills may become rarer and therefore more valuable.

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From Clay to Digital: Building a Career in Modern Sculpture.

Recently, a couple of my students asked me two important questions:

  1. “What would you have liked to know when starting out?”
  2. “What’s the best way to get started in the industry?”

Both students come from traditional sculpting backgrounds, so I thought I’d share some reflections based on my experience over the last 25+ years. Let me begin with the second question, as it’s more straightforward.

How to Get Started in the Industry

First, it’s essential to understand that the creative industry is split into two main fields: traditional (physical) and digital. Since the mid-2000s, digital tools have increasingly taken over aspects of the physical workflow. Back then, I heard many warnings about how computers would change everything—and they were right. ZBrush, Maya, Blender, and other software quickly became central to the production pipeline.

I tried to stay ahead by learning digital tools on my own. I remember getting a pirated copy of ZBrush and forcing myself to learn it. I didn’t love it at first—it felt cold and disconnected compared to clay—but I pushed through, knowing it could be valuable someday.

When I moved to New Zealand in 2013 and joined Weta Workshop, it became immediately clear how much influence the digital side had taken over. At the time, Weta’s digital department was small—just four people tucked away in a small room. Now, it fills one of the largest rooms in the studio, with its own infrastructure and pipelines. This transformation says a lot about the direction the industry has taken.

Big companies like Weta need to stay profitable. They diversify to survive: museum replicas, games, collectibles, immersive tours, educational programs, and, of course, film and television work. From a business point of view, digital methods are far more efficient: there are no material costs, no shipping hassles, and less need for physical space. Most of the costs are in technology and labour—but not tools, storage, or freight. This shift means that most “cool” projects start digitally, and physical builds usually come at the end of the pipeline.

Making something by hand is expensive. You’re paying not just for time and skill, but for materials, space, tooling, shipping—and in New Zealand, you’re shipping from one of the most remote countries in the world. Companies know this, and they’re incentivised to digitise every part of the process they can. That’s why, today, a digital sculptor is more in demand.

That said, traditional skills still matter—and they matter a lot. In fact, many of the best digital sculptors I’ve worked with started with physical materials. The reverse is less common. Why? Because traditional sculpting sharpens your eye and forces you to solve problems without shortcuts like Ctrl+Z, symmetry tools, or brushes that do the work for you. It trains your brain to really see and make decisions intuitively.

Most of the top ZBrush artists I know have a strong background in traditional sculpture. You use your brain differently when sculpting physically, and that training stays with you even when you move to digital.

So, if you’re a traditionally trained sculptor looking to enter the industry, my advice is: learn digital tools, might be really useful in the future, but don’t abandon your roots. Your physical sculpting experience is an asset—use it. And if you’re already good with ZBrush or Blender but haven’t done much with your hands, start doing it. You’ll find it enriches your digital work in surprising ways.

What I Wish I Knew Starting Out

This question invites reflection. If I could speak to my younger self, I’d ask: Where do you see yourself in 10 years?That’s not just a philosophical question—it’s a practical one. What you do today builds toward that future.

In 2013, I left Spain for New Zealand to pursue opportunity and adventure. I told my father, “It’s just a return flight—it’s not forever.” But time passes. You deal with visas, job restrictions, and eventually, a new life. I now have citizenship and a family here. But I also have distance from my family in Spain. That’s a cost I didn’t fully anticipate.

Did I Become the Professional I Wanted to Be? I think so. Today, I run my own studio—something I’m proud of. But the journey came with many sacrifices, and I stumbled over more than a few stones I wish I’d seen coming.

You can’t control everything around you, but you can stay true to the life you want, and keep working toward it. That, more than anything, makes the difference.

When I first arrived, I was invited by Sir Richard Taylor himself to use the Weta studio space. He said, “There’s no work right now, but you’re welcome to use the space.” That kind of opportunity rarely comes around. I saw it as my chance to prove myself—and I did.

In the years that followed, I watched Weta grow and adapt, especially its embrace of digital tools. A friend of mine and a top artists in practical effects, Pepe Mora, with experience working almost in every corner of the world, he used to be part of the team at Legacy Effects in LA (formerly Stan Winston Studio) for many years. He was amazed by Weta’s size—saying it was the largest practical FX company he’d ever seen. Coming from LA, that’s a big statement.

But with size comes structure. And structure means roles. And roles mean repetition. This is where I’d offer a word of caution: the more specialised you become, the less flexible you might be later in your career. Early on, you try everything. But over time, you get pigeonholed: “He’s the foam latex guy,” or “She does armour,” or “He’s the guy who finishes digital sculpts.” If you don’t make time to learn outside that niche, you might wake up one day bored—or worse, replaceable.

That’s why I tell my students: don’t lose your creative cave. That space where you explore, test, fail, play. Keep that alive. It’s what will sustain you when your job doesn’t. Most people want to break away and do their own thing. Few dare. Even fewer succeed. But almost everyone I know dreams of having their own studio one day.

So be strategic. Be practical. Think long-term. Learn multiple things. Diversify your skills. And keep that fire alive.

In Summary

  • The industry is split between digital and physical workflows. Know both.
  • Traditional sculpting gives you a critical edge—even in digital work.
  • Don’t rely on one skill. Stay adaptable.
  • Understand that opportunity often requires sacrifice.
  • Avoid over-specialisation. Keep your creativity active.
  • Plan ahead. What do you want your life to look like in 10 years?

If you’re a student reading this, you’re already ahead of where I was at your age. Keep going, stay humble, and always stay curious. And thank you for asking thoughtful questions—because questions like these push us all forward.

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Male Forms Figure Sculpting Course Results

We’ve Completed the Male Forms Figure Sculpting Course!

It’s been an intensive 10 weeks—a full-on experience balancing work and teaching. Though the pace was challenging, I’m genuinely happy with the outcome.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve shared several insights from the course, so there may not be much left to add—except, of course, the final result, which I’m excited to share with you now. As always, the golden rule is simple: the more time you invest, the better the result. Time allows you to step back, refine the details, and elevate the work. I didn’t have much extra time myself, but I gave it my all.

Throughout this course, we’ve covered the essential building blocks of figure sculpting—proportion, geometry, structure, and balance. We used a simplified canon to understand the figure, worked closely through each section, and I offered guidance through Zoom calls and personalized feedback on your submissions.

Looking ahead, I plan to integrate examples from master sculptors in future sessions. I believe this is a key step in building critical thinking and a deeper understanding of form.

While most classical training discourages creative deviation early on, and I largely agree with that foundation, I also believe there’s value in experimenting—even making mistakes. Some of your most important growth can happen when you let go of the pressure to get it “right.” Play, explore, and don’t be afraid to create work you’re not proud of. That’s part of the learning.

Almost every artist I know—myself included—has pieces they look back on and think, “What was I doing?” But those missteps are essential. They shape us, and often teach more than the pieces that go smoothly.

What really makes a difference is consistency. The students who improve the most are the ones who keep showing up. They push through the uncomfortable parts, ask questions, and keep working—whether it’s going well or not. But equally important is finding joy in the process. Without that sense of joy or curiosity, it’s hard to sustain the practice long-term.

So wherever you are in your journey—whether you’re sculpting regularly or just beginning again—try to carve out space for it. Show up, even if it’s only for a short session. Be patient with the pace, and know that every hour you spend shapes not just your sculpture, but your artistic voice.

Remember: perfection isn’t the goal—progress is. Allow yourself to enjoy the messiness of learning, to celebrate small wins, and to build momentum through repetition and care. Some days will feel productive; others won’t. That’s normal. But if you stay with it, the work will grow, and so will you.

Whether I see you again online or in person, I look forward to continuing this journey together. Until then, trust the process, keep your hands in the clay, and don’t stop moving forward.

 

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How to take pictures of your sculptures

A good picture can enhance your sculpture a hundred times—if you do it right. Photos are often the only record you’ll have once you put a piece aside, especially when you’re working in plasticine or water-based clays and eventually need to reuse the material. That’s why it’s worth dedicating some time to capture your sculpture in the best possible way.

In this article, I’ll guide you through practical steps to photograph your sculpture, regardless of whether you’re using a professional DSLR or a smartphone. You don’t need to be a professional photographer to take good photos. But a few key principles can make a huge difference.

My First Camera: Why I Learned to Care About Photography

When I started, digital cameras didn’t exist. I had access to a film Canon Reflex that my mother had once gifted my father. My dad was a curious man, deeply interested in art and expression—drawing, music, photography, writing. He wasn’t a professional in any of those areas, but he was driven by a hunger to learn. I think I inherited that mindset, even though we took very different paths in life.

That camera was always around. And using a film camera teaches you a lot. You don’t get to see your results instantly. You don’t get unlimited shots. You have to learn to trust your eye and plan your shots. Developing film costs money, so you don’t want to waste a roll on poor composition or bad lighting. Every photo had to count.

So I learned—first through necessity, later with intention. I didn’t become a photographer, but I did gain the understanding I needed to make my work look its best.

What You Need to Know Today

Luckily, things are much easier now. You can get excellent results with just your phone if you follow some simple principles. I’ll walk you through what matters most:

  • Lighting
  • Background
  • Camera angle
  • Distance and lens type

These four factors can dramatically change how your sculpture looks in a photo. In the following illustration is an essential set up where we put in practice the ideal conditions. Let’s break it down so we understand it.

 

1. Background: Keep It Clean and Neutral

The background should never compete with your sculpture. Avoid busy patterns, intense colors, or unnecessary textures. While a pure white background might seem ideal, it’s actually hard to photograph correctly unless you have powerful and even lighting. White can easily blow out highlights and flatten your sculpture’s form.

Instead, I recommend neutral tones—shades of grey or black. Grey is especially good because it’s truly neutral and doesn’t alter how we perceive color and contrast in the sculpture. Black can add drama, but you have to be careful not to lose shadow detail.

If you choose to use a colored background, make sure it supports your intention and doesn’t overpower the sculpture. Color influences perception, so be aware of how it interacts with your work.

2. Angle: Show the Sculpture’s Best Side

The camera angle can completely change how a sculpture feels. Shooting from a lower angle often makes the sculpture feel more monumental or heroic. That’s why I often shoot my online course sculptures from below—so they feel more imposing.

That said, the best angle really depends on the pose of the figure. If your sculpture is already looking upwards, a low shot might distort the intent. It’s best to experiment: walk around the piece, take shots from above, below, and level with the work. You’ll quickly notice which angles enhance its character and which don’t.

Still, always include a neutral, eye-level set of documentation shots. A 360° series of images taken at chest height is an excellent standard. These should be objective, presenting the piece without distortion.

3. Distance and Lens Choice: Don’t Distort the Sculpture

Your distance from the sculpture affects how it’s perceived—and more importantly, how it’s distorted.

If you stand too close to the piece, your camera will need a wide-angle setting to capture the whole object. Wide angles exaggerate perspective, making parts of the sculpture look stretched or swollen. This is especially problematic for figurative work where accurate proportion matters.

The solution is simple: step back. Use a 50mm focal length (or equivalent setting on a phone or digital camera), which mimics the human eye’s perspective. Stand about 1.5 meters away and zoom in if needed. This keeps the sculpture’s proportions looking natural and true to the physical object.

 

 

4. Lighting: The Most Important Element

This is where most people struggle—and where you can stand out. Lighting has more impact than anything else. A well-lit photo of a modest sculpture can look stunning, while a poorly lit photo of a great sculpture can look flat and lifeless.

You don’t need a full photo studio setup, but a basic lighting formula will go a long way:

  • Use two lights, positioned slightly above and to the sides of your sculpture.
  • Make one stronger than the other to create depth.
  • Add bottom reflections to soften shadows.

In my setup, I use two softbox lights angled from above, slightly off-center. To reduce harsh shadows and lift details in the darker areas, I place polystyrene reflectors at the base of the sculpture. These bounce light upward and fill in the underside without making it look flat.

No Lights? Use Daylight

If you don’t have softboxes or flashes, no problem. Use natural daylight—preferably indirect light from a nearby window. Avoid direct sun, as it creates harsh highlights and deep shadows that are hard to control.

On the opposite side of the window, place a reflective surface (mirror, tin foil, white card) to bounce light back onto the sculpture. This simulates a two-light setup and gives you more balanced exposure.

You can also place polystyrene or foil on the table or floor under the sculpture to help lift the shadows from below.

 

Take Your Time—It’s Worth It

Lighting is the trickiest part of the setup. It often takes a few tries to get it right. You’ll need to move lights, adjust distances, and test your shots. Be patient. Once you get it, you’ll see the difference immediately.

A good photo lets people see what you saw when you sculpted it. It brings your vision to life in a new way—and makes it easier for others to connect with your work.

Photographing your sculpture isn’t just about documentation—it’s about storytelling. It’s your chance to show others what you see, what you feel, and what you’ve created with care and attention.

Whether you’re applying to an exhibition, posting online, or building your portfolio, these photos matter. Take the time to do it well. A strong image is a powerful tool—and in many cases, the only trace your sculpture will leave behind.

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Sculpting Legs part 3. From Structure to Form.

Legs in clay. Simplified Anatomy example

From Structure to Form: Strengthening Your Sculptural Understanding

In previous articles, we’ve established the importance of working with solid references and a clear method. A strong start means using accurate visual sources and building a structured foundation that helps you achieve correct proportions, volume, and balance.

In the video accompanying this article, we move a step further—from basic structure to simplified anatomy. This phase is all about translating anatomy into readable forms that are easy to recognize and recreate. It does require anatomical knowledge—not only understanding where muscles are, but also how to lay them out convincingly in relation to your reference model.

You’ll notice I exaggerate the anatomical shapes quite a bit. This isn’t a stylistic choice but an intentional move to make the structure more visible and obvious. Although the figure in this example is in a resting pose—great for learning—the principles become even more essential when you introduce dynamic poses, which add layers of complexity.

Legs and feet, in particular, can be challenging. Their function in balance and movement means their forms are subtle, often misunderstood, or overlooked. That’s why exercises like this are valuable—they help clarify the form and improve your understanding of what goes where.

If you’re a beginner, intermediate, or even a professional who sometimes feels their work lacks clarity or strength, it might be due to insufficient anatomical integration. This method isn’t about copying a lifelike figure perfectly; it’s about understanding the logic of the anatomy so that your final piece feels more alive, grounded, and intentional.

Personally, working this way has helped me a great deal—clarifying structure, defining mechanics, and pushing anatomy just far enough to avoid softness and achieve strength in my final sculptures.

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Sculpting Legs, Part 2.

Sculpting the legs, Part II. Structure.

When doing legs as when approaching any part of the figure, one of the most important things is the structure. This is one of the basic things but it is at the core of everything. If you get that right, you gained 50% of the work, because in the structure lyes proportions, gesture, balance & weight. 

This is not easy and that is why is something that I focus first, without distractions by using a simplification system. Most beginners or intermediate sculptors don’t pay much attention to this part thinking that by concentrating in learning the anatomy and getting it right, this will help to get the best results. Well, even when this is true, I don’t fully agree with this. 

Below this lines, you’ll see a simplified figure. In this exercise, the anatomy and major forms of the body are all present, but they’ve been reduced to planes and geometric shapes — as you can see in areas like the knees, ribcage, and more. This is exactly the kind of approach I advocate: a structural simplification that still retains the essence of the figure.

It’s the result of a step-by-step method that builds up to this level, from which you can continue developing the piece into a more organic and lifelike sculpture.

 It’s true you need to study anatomy and get it right. That means going through the learning process: trying, failing, correcting, and repeating until things finally click. Every sculptor has done this countless times. In fact, most artists have. It takes time, and it’s part of the journey. No objections there.

I believe the structural aspect of figure sculpting deserves to be isolated and emphasized. Doing so can actually help accelerate that learning curve. It gives you something solid to focus on and builds a foundation for understanding the figure more clearly.

Think of it like painting — you begin with broad strokes and two colors, and only later do you refine the details and expand the palette. Or like building a house — first, you lock the pillars in place, then add the windows, the walls, and all the decoration. Structure gives you the ability to see the figure clearly, with as little detail as possible, and still capture the essence of the form.

To sculpt the human figure with structure in mind, we need a few essential tools: geometry and a simplification system based on a canon. With that alone, you’re ready to begin. Of course, if this is your first time sculpting, you might need some guidance around setting up armatures and materials. No worries — I’ve got you covered. I’ll be posting a separate article with everything you need to get started.

And if you’re already familiar with the basics — let’s get our hands dirty.

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Sculpting legs, Part 1.

Sculpting the Legs Part 1.— Legs are more important than you think.

Legs have always been one of the trickiest parts of the body to sculpt — at least for me, and for most artists I know.

When we build a figure, it’s natural to pour most of our energy into the areas we use most to interact with the world: the face, the hands, the body language. These are the tools we rely on to express emotion and connect with others. So we give them the majority of our attention.

But the legs… they often get left for last.

Even though they bring so much weight, balance, and life to the sculpture, they are not easy to master. To sculpt legs well, you need a solid understanding of structure, proportions, and anatomy — you can’t simply “guess and hope” your way through. And then, of course, there are the feet: seemingly simple in theory, but notoriously difficult if you want them to actually look convincing. They’re not just a “quick detail” you can fix at the end.

It’s easy to build something that roughly looks like a leg — but it’s just as easy to end up with soft, undefined results that, even from a distance, don’t look truly convincing. Achieving accuracy and definition starts with having good references to look at. This is definitely a big help.

You can always study yourself in the mirror, or if you feel you’re not the ideal model, ask your partner or a friend. No matter how you do it, you need the right visual references to guide your work.
Another great option is to spend time searching online for reference images or purchase professional resources from websites like Posespace.com.

 

How can you get better results?

That’s something I can definitely help you with. I’ll be sharing more tips in the next article, but if you want a better idea of my full approach, feel free to check out some of my workshops!

In my workshops, both in-person and online, I teach a simplification method specifically designed to make these challenges easier to tackle. We focus on blocking in the main volumes early, finding clean, strong outlines (because sculpting is really drawing in three dimensions), building gesture, balance, and proportion from a solid foundation before moving into smaller anatomical details.

This approach changes how students experience sculpting the legs and feet because it already gives you a clear idea of where to place each part of the body. You start removing the guessing game from the equation, allowing you to focus on achieving the correct forms. At the beginning, it might feel a bit mechanical, but once you get used to the process — which doesn’t take long — it starts to feel surprisingly intuitive, even natural. You stop struggling with the basics and start truly understanding what you’re building.

I’m quite happy of how natural and strong these legs look in the quick study shown here: they feel proportionate, gestural, and anatomically grounded.

 

Good legs can lift the entire sculpture, literally and artistically.

If you want to dive deeper into these techniques — whether you’re a beginner looking for a structured pathway or a more experienced sculptor wanting to refine your skills — I invite you to join one of my upcoming workshops.

✅ You’ll gain a solid understanding of structure and anatomy.
✅ You’ll learn to simplify complex forms without losing expression.
✅ And most importantly, you’ll build a strong foundation that will support all your future work.

 

 

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