Sculpting for Film: Behind the Scenes of Ghost in the Shell
Working on Ghost in the Shell was an incredible opportunity — not only because it’s one of those iconic films you end up watching several times, but also because of the creative challenge and collaboration it involved. Like many projects at Weta Workshop, you rarely get to see the full picture until the very end. That’s part of the magic, and part of the chaos.
In the early days of a project like this, you get hints that something big is coming. You hear whispers in the studio — someone’s working on a sketch, a model is getting prototyped, or a new render pops up on a screen. But unless you’re a supervisor involved in the core planning meetings, the details remain scattered. It’s a bit like that game where people draw on each other’s backs and try to pass the drawing along — by the time it reaches the last person, the original image is nearly unrecognizable. That’s not exactly how things work at Weta, of course, but the analogy captures how fragmented the flow of information can feel. With so many departments and overlapping workflows, it’s easy to lose track.
Despite that, the outcome is often stunning — a patchwork of hundreds of skilled hands and eyes working toward a shared vision.
Printing the Future
When I joined the Ghost in the Shell project, 3D printing technology was just starting to become more widely used at Weta. They were heavily investing in new printers, building up what would eventually become an entire farm of machines. For anyone who hasn’t seen a 3D printing farm in action, it’s wild — dozens of machines humming away, printing out precise components with microscopic levels of detail.
At the time, the mock-ups were usually printed using PLA or ABS filament — good enough to test out fit and function. But the real deal came from high-resolution powder printers that could capture detail down to 50 microns (that’s 0.05mm). For Ghost in the Shell, they used this tech to print the internal skeleton of the main character, played by Scarlett Johansson. Since her character is an android, the goal was to achieve a complex, futuristic, mechanical look — all digitally modeled and then printed, later finished and assembled by hand.
That’s where our sculpting team came in.
Traditional Meets Digital
Our job was to sculpt the outer “skin” of the printed skeleton — to create the physical representation of Scarlett’s body based on digital scans. The initial scan, done in LA, was delivered to Weta’s digital department. From there, it was milled into clay using a CNC machine. What we found in the sculpting room was a rough version of the body in two large clay blocks — disconnected, misaligned, and missing the subtle organic shapes of a real figure.
Together with Masa, my sculpting partner, we set to work rebuilding and refining the form. That meant restoring anatomical accuracy, adjusting curves and volumes, and addressing proportion — especially where the milling was too rough or lacking resolution. We were asked to make multiple tweaks, including enlarging the breasts at the request of the art director. Later we heard that Scarlett herself was upset about that particular change. It’s a reminder of the strange intersection between craft and politics in this line of work.
In the background, our colleague Daniel Cockersell was working on refining her facial scan. Between the three of us, we had our hands full. Sculpting the body in plasticine, refining the face, and prepping everything for mold-making was a massive undertaking. But seeing the final product on screen — even knowing how different it was behind the scenes — was incredibly rewarding.
The Magic and the Shift
There’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work that goes unnoticed. The things you see in the movie often look metallic, heavy, or high-tech, but in real life they’re made of plastic, foam, or 3D-printed resin. Weapons don’t shoot, blood is syrup, and android exoskeletons are often painted PLA. The illusion is the magic of practical effects, and Weta is a master of that.
Still, it was during this project that I began to feel a shift — both in the industry and within myself. The role of a traditional sculptor was changing. As technology advanced, our tasks became more about cleanup and final touches than original creation. The real sculpting was happening in the computer. Artists who once spent their days elbow-deep in clay were now sitting in front of screens, working in digital environments that were sterile, clean, and efficient.
It’s not worse — just different. But for those of us who came up through hands-on methods, it feels like something essential is being lost.
I realized then that if I wanted to stay creative and fulfilled, I needed to carve out a path for myself. That decision led to the creation of my workshops, my personal projects, and everything I’m doing now. Sculpting for film taught me a lot — but it also showed me that I needed to keep evolving to stay true to the kind of work that feeds me.
Final Thoughts
Looking back, Ghost in the Shell was a highlight — not just because of the scale or the visibility of the project, but because of what it taught me about collaboration, adaptation, and the balance between tradition and innovation.
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