Interview with Luke Shepherd
By Maurice Quillinan
I met with portrait sculptor Luke Shepherd in his Ashburton studio to explore the thinking behind his powerful, lifelike bronze works. With over 45 years of experience, Luke shared his unique approach to working with clay and what really lies behind a successful portrait.
MQ: You work with clay, but clearly not like a potter would. What’s your process?
LS: I sculpt in clay, but it’s a means to an end—most of my pieces are cast into bronze. Clay is wonderfully responsive. It lets me explore and record my perceptions of the sitter in a way that's fluid and direct. The sculpture isn’t just a likeness—it’s an enquiry into the experience of seeing.
MQ: People often say your portraits feel alive. Is that to do with how you handle the clay?
LS: Partly—but it’s more about intention. Clay will do anything and nothing unless you know what you’re aiming for. My core question is: how do you capture the intangible energy of a living person in something as basic as earth? I’m not copying what I see—I’m taking it apart perceptually and rebuilding it through form. It’s a very systematic process, and it’s about seeing more, not imagining more
MQ: That reminds me of Giacometti or Lucian Freud—artists who worked from observation to get to the truth of what they saw.
LS: Absolutely. I’m fascinated by the journey from the eye to the hand: how the brain processes what’s seen, and how that understanding gets translated into movement—into clay. I don’t invent or embellish. I observe, break things down, and build them up layer by layer.
MQ: When you say "perceptual layers," what do you mean?
LS: Think of building a house: you start with foundations, then structure, then finishings. Sculpture works the same way. I begin with proportion—simple measurements that anchor the work. Then I add successive layers of complexity: relationships between forms, the quality of tension in the anatomy, and finally expression. Each layer supports the next.
MQ: So this is both technical and expressive. How do you balance structure and personality?
LS: They’re not separate. The structure is the foundation, and the personality grows out of it. A sculptor once said, “When the work is true, likeness comes of its own accord.” That’s always stayed with me. I don’t chase likeness—I build truthfully, and the likeness appears.
MQ: Do you lose yourself in the work, or is it all carefully considered?
LS: It's never a blur. I don’t believe the clay just takes over and the work "makes itself." It’s not like driving and forgetting how you got there. I have a formal method that guides how I apply the clay—structure gives the work clarity and helps it carry more.
MQ: What do you mean by “carry more”?
LS: Clay can hold information—just like a sentence can. When I shape a nose, I’m placing clay to reflect where the form begins, how it relates to its surroundings, the anatomical tension, and more. Each observation adds depth. Clay can hold ten or more of these perceptual threads if you’ve trained yourself to see them. That’s what gives a sculpture its presence—its vitality.
MQ: Do you ever work in ceramic or is your focus mainly bronze?
LS: Bronze is my primary medium—I cast and finish all my own work, including the patination. But I’ve recently bought a kiln and started exploring ceramic, especially coloured clays. I avoid glazes because they obscure the modelling. For me, the form always comes first.
MQ: Would you describe your work as pottery, craft, or sculpture?
LS: It doesn’t sit neatly in any box. It’s too sculptural for craft, but too traditional for most contemporary sculpture. I work mainly to commission, creating deeply personal works for families, institutions, and collectors. My work is figurative, grounded in observation, and tailored to each individual.
MQ: You also teach?
LS: Yes—and I love it. I’ve spent years refining my approach, and I’m passionate about sharing it. I run a few intensive courses each year, often booked well in advance. I also teach surgeons—plastic and maxillofacial—how to better understand form and three-dimensional perception. That crossover is incredibly fulfilling.
MQ: You also practice Tai Chi?
LS: I’ve trained in Tai Chi for over 40 years. I started it the same week I began portrait sculpture. They’ve evolved together and are now inseparable for me. Tai Chi has taught me a great deal about presence, structure, and flow—all of which feeds into my work and my teaching.
MQ: Who would you love to sculpt next?
LS: Most of my commissions are for statesmen or business figures, but I particularly enjoyed working with Floella Benjamin—ten sittings and a great rapport. Occasionally I ask someone to sit just because I’m fascinated by their presence. You never know—perhaps my next subject could be you?
