It Takes a Village
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On Craft, Collaboration, and Making Artwork Endure
As Studio Kroner approaches its fifth anniversary, I’m preparing for my first solo exhibition in the gallery and taking time to reflect on the collaborative process behind my work. While sculpture often begins in solitude, it is shaped, realized, and sustained through shared care, trust, and craft. This post reflects on the village behind the work. — Paul Kroner
Five Years In: From Solitude to Shared Making
This April marks five years since I opened the doors to Studio Kroner—both an exhibition space and a working studio. In that time, I’ve had the privilege of presenting dozens of artists through solo and group exhibitions. Now, as I prepare my own work for a solo show in the space, I find myself looking more closely at what it takes to bring each piece into being.
What continues to reveal itself is this: while the work begins in solitude, bringing a sculpture fully to life is never a solitary process.
On Craft, Mastery, and Care
I’ve always been drawn to working alongside people who carry deep, embodied knowledge of their craft.
That appreciation started early in my career as a graphic designer, when “going to press” meant standing on the floor of a print shop with the people running the machines. Back then, presses weren’t endlessly adjustable by computer. If something was off, a pressman would walk the length of a massive six-color press with a wrench and make the smallest possible adjustment—just enough to bring everything back into perfect registration.
What stayed with me was not just their technical skill, but how much they cared. They took real pride in getting it right. They were willing to stand with you while you obsessed over color and alignment, and once you signed off, their responsibility was to hold that perfection steady through enormous print runs where mistakes were costly. Precision mattered. Judgment mattered. Craftsmanship was inseparable from accountability.
That experience shaped how I think about collaboration to this day.
From Design to Sculpture
When I began transitioning from graphic design into fine art, I found myself drawn to sculpture—and in the foundry, I encountered that same mindset once again.
I spend weeks or months developing a piece, then hand it over—along with a great deal of trust—to others who carry it forward. I began working with New England Sculpture Service in Boston around 2013, later collaborated with the Green Foundry in Maine, and since moving back to Cincinnati in 2017 have worked closely with Casting Art Technologies in Camp Washington.
John Cline, Emily Cato, and the rest of the Casting Arts team—many of whom are artists themselves—have been true collaborators for years. They think rigorously about structure, materials, and process from the earliest sketches, and their insight and judgment shape the work long before it reaches its final form.
While the work begins in solitude, bringing a sculpture fully to life is never a solitary process.
When Collaboration Shapes the Work
That collaborative spirit continues throughout my work, particularly in my new Liminal series, which I’ve been developing over the past year. Cast directly from original wax forms into bronze, the work extends well beyond casting itself. In pursuit of a Brancusi-like finish, I’ve been collaborating with Chris Wilkins, an automotive restoration specialist, to achieve surfaces that are both precise and luminous—what he jokingly calls “baby-butt smooth.”
Chris, along with Lou and others, embraced that challenge fully. Their pride in the work is evident, and they approach each piece with the same care and responsibility I bring to the initial design. They don’t simply execute a finish—they help the work arrive at its fullest potential.
Another collaborator on this series is Joe DeLuco, a master welder with whom I’ve worked on a number of pieces over the years, and we’ve continued that collaboration here. One new piece, reduced to a single templated form, required careful problem-solving to make it structurally sound and repeatable without losing its emotional presence—something Joe handled beautifully. From there, the work moved on to Leonard’s Powder Coating in Newport for finishing.
When the collector and his partner saw the finished piece, the emotional response confirmed that the translation had worked.
Most recently, I’ve teamed up with Matt Grote to translate 3D scans of my original work into both smaller solid resin casts and large-scale reproductions.
Holding the Work to Its Standard
When I step back and look at it all, I’m reminded how many hands and minds are involved in bringing this body of work to life. It takes me back to my years as a designer, when creative work was never solitary. You were the orchestrator—directing specialists and holding everything to a standard that honored both the vision and the client.
That hasn’t changed.
My clients now are collectors, and I believe the quality of the work must reflect the trust they place in me. Sculpture, in particular, demands a collective effort—how a piece is fabricated, finished, and resolved shapes how it is ultimately lived with. Art has to stand. It has to endure. It takes a village to make that possible, and I’m deeply grateful for every person who helps bring these ideas into the world.
The Liminals series, alongside other new and earlier pieces spanning sculpture, painting, and illustration, will be presented in my upcoming solo exhibition, “What Have I Done?” at Studio Kroner, opening on April, 16, 2026 as part of the gallery’s fifth anniversary.