Caroline Brisset, a sculptor attuned to the hidden pulse of metal, weaves stories from the unyielding heart of steel. With the raw tools of a blacksmith and an instinct that embraces chance, she transforms rigid surfaces into forms that resonate with quiet grace and tender poetry. Her sculptures, born at the delicate edge where strength meets fragility, invite us to linger in their presence, to feel the silent dance of form and void, and to hear the whispered beauty that emerges from the material’s own voice. In a world drawn to screens, Caroline Brisset’s work anchors us in the tactile truth of human touch, where imperfection becomes a song of the soul. Now, let us begin the interview
Could you briefly introduce yourself to our audience and tell us what motivates you as an artist?
I am a metal sculptor. I have been working with this material since I was 18. And I am still learning from it every single day—I believe that is the main motivation behind my practice. To feel both the fragility and the strength of images and emotions. To constantly explore new territories and to sense that art is a tool to understand and grasp the world around us seems essential to me, despite all the doubts that the creative act may imply.
In a time when much of life is lived through screens, in your view, what is the unique sensory or psychological power of sculpture?
It’s interesting because I work in a very archaic way, using the ancestral techniques of metalworkers and transgressing them in the process of creation. My tools are those of the blacksmith—no keyboard, no screen—only the idea and the form matter. This may seem absurd in the age of AI, software, and cutting-edge techniques, but I need this “innocence” of vision in my relationship with the material. Even though these tools can also be a source of inspiration. I want to keep the instinct of the gesture intact, even if it sometimes leads to mistakes in form. I prefer awkwardness and accident over the perfection of technology. It is what brings humanity into sculpture. (It’s also a good excuse, since I feel totally panicked by technology!) In any case, it seems to me that technology does not allow emotion to be transposed into form in the same way as the hand and the mind do.
When you work with metal, do you see it as a collaboration or a confrontation? How much of the final form do you attribute to the material itself?
Chance is a very important notion in my approach. I like the feeling that safety does not exist. The material is alive and has a language of its own. I try to accompany it rather than dominate it, otherwise I lose every time… To sculpt is to stand on a wire above the void, to deal with gusts of wind, to know when to bend your back or, on the contrary, dive into emptiness. I see it as teamwork between the material and the one who shapes it. One must be attentive and humble.
Is there a philosophical dimension in the resistance you feel from the material while working? Does the struggle become part of the meaning?
Yes. Absolutely. The alchemists had understood this—that we are matter, that thought is matter, and that one constantly transforms the other.
Your works often evoke softness emerging from hardness. Do you see this as a metaphor for something deeper in the human experience?
The answer is in the question. Some people know how much life’s trials can transform us and bring forth beauty. In the same way, a piece of crumpled sheet metal can evoke the curve of a silhouette. It is simply a matter of shifting one’s gaze. Beneath cold and rigid appearances, steel is full of poetry and softness. I try to draw this out in my sculptures.
How does your sculpture invite the viewer to experience not only its form, but also the space and silence surrounding it?
I don’t know. I only propose forms without asking myself too many questions… Of course, the notions of fullness and emptiness come into play. The sculpture is there, more or less massive, taking its place in a space that belongs to it, opening its arms to whoever lays their gaze upon it, penetrating the void to meet it. Everything is connected.
Do you think sculpture can anchor us—offer a sense of stability in an unstable world?
Sculpture, like photography or drawing, fixes something of the order of the instantaneous. It can be an emotion or a message. Sculpture allows the instant to endure.
Can abstraction in sculpture speak a universal language beyond cultures and contexts, or is it always tied to its era and place?
Every abstract or figurative object has an aura that goes beyond words. I don’t believe it is necessary to have a particular culture to perceive it.
When someone discovers your work in silence, without prior knowledge, what kind of inner dialogue do you hope to awaken in them?
This question gives me vertigo! I refuse to think about that, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to create anymore… I like the interpretation of my sculptures to be free, for everyone to draw from them what they want according to their own story.
Is there something you have never publicly expressed about your artistic process or your vision, but that you’ve always wanted to share?
I speak very little. So yes. There are many things I have never put into words. I don’t feel the need to explain everything, and often the creative process cannot be easily explained with words. For my sculptures to trigger an emotion is enough for me.
Connect with Caroline Brisset:
Website: Caroline Brisset
Instagram: caroline_brisset
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Curious about what inspires today’s artists?
Rania Matar: Where Silence Becomes Her
Svetlana Kornilova: Where Silence Meets Color
Interviewed by Behnam Raeesian
