What’s your favorite part of the process when making a craft sculpture from scratch?

Honestly, if I had to pick one single favorite moment in the entire process of making a craft sculpture from scratch, it wouldn’t be the final polish or the moment it’s placed on a pedestal. It’s the very first moment I touch the raw material. There’s something almost sacred about that instant when I take a lump of clay, a block of foam, or a pile of wire—something completely formless and indifferent—and make the very first mark, the first pinch, the first cut. That initial step is pure possibility. It’s a conversation without words. At that stage, the sculpture exists only in my mind, a fuzzy vision full of potential. Every mistake is just a new direction, every accidental dent a potential feature. I love the tactile shock of the cold, damp clay against my palms, the smell of earth or metal, the quiet that settles around the workspace. As my hands start to move, there’s no plan rigid enough to survive the reality of the material. The material talks back. It might crack, slump, or resist, forcing me to adapt and listen. That back-and-forth, that intimate dance between my imagination and the physical world, is electrifying. It’s a raw, unfiltered creative freedom that vanishes once the piece becomes too defined. So, for me, the best part isn’t the finished product. It’s that thrilling, messy, beautiful, and terrifying moment of beginning—the leap into the unknown where anything can happen.