Strength through sculpture

Sherry Sander sculpts on the edge.

She wants to artistically stretch her skills and her visions.

That's where she gets her biggest thrills.

Seeing something, capturing something that she couldn't before.

"'Am I able to take risks? Am I still brave?' … Once I start going through the motions, I think I'll quit," said the rural Kalispell sculptor.

Sander, 66, has sculpted for more than 40 years, mostly concentrating on wildlife. She has won numerous awards, and her works are found in many museums and galleries across the nation.

She is still enthusiastic about sculpting - and frightened.

"Frankly, it scares the hell out of me when I go into the studio and work. … It's a fear of failure. It's fear that whatever made you somewhat of a success is gone. … Maybe if you get older, you lose your edge," Sander said.

She continued : "It's a personal edge. I'm the first person to listen to criticism because that's how you learn. … Do I still have the ability to see something differently, to see that hidden gesture that I didn't see before, to still be adventurous?"

Risks are a reason that some sculptures stand out from others - frequently grabbing attention on a subliminal level.

A way that a head is cocked. Or a leg is bent. Or a paw is placed. The amount of detail here. The amount of detail there. The mix of realism and impressionism in a piece.

The engineering of propping up and balancing a several-hundred pound piece. How that engineering is hidden within the artwork.

The relationship between the sculpted critter and the surrounding environment captured in a statue.

"It's always the subtle things. It's not just the big things that makes art credible," Sander said.

Risk is also a case of trying to capture the mind's vision in bronze. Can technical skills copy what's within sculptor's brain?

Frequently, artistic vision romps ahead of a sculptor's expertise for several pieces. Then the expertise catches up for a while, and then the visions sprint ahead again.

"If you are very demanding of yourself and critical of what you do, your mind and hands are never in harmony," Sander said.

Sander loves to travel about the wilds in Montana and elsewhere to study bears, elk, moose, deer, wolves, birds, rams, foxes and people for her statues.

But she also has a 5,000-square-foot house - which began decades ago as a 1,400-square-footer before rooms and wings were gradually added - with a mostly glass-walled studio. The house is northeast of Kalispell on 300 acres that include Spring Creek and a woods.

Birds and beasts constantly wander by the studio - providing real-life models for Sander to study.

Sander and her husband Dr. Loren Vranish moved to the site in the 1960s, raising four children, who then gave them nine grandchildren.

"We tried to tip-toe in here and not disrupt anything too much," she said.

Sander grew up in Redding, Calif. - not really getting into art until she went to college there. She got interested in pottery and drifted into sculpting. She loves animals, and again just drifted into focusing on wildlife.

Sander finally gave up pottery to plunge totally in sculpture, which she liked better - figuring it needed her full concentration for her to become good at that art.

"It really was an evolution of sorts. Then it just snowballed," Sander said.

One of her statues is of two sprinting white-tail deer that went to a private client in Colorado.

The city of Kalispell approached Sander about doing a statue for the intersection of Idaho Street and Main Street. That intersection doubles as the crossroads of U.S. 93 and U.S. 2.

The city's plan is to put a Montana-themed statue at each corner of that intersection.

Sander's piece - a copy of the two white-tail deer - is expected to be the first. It is supposed to be erected sometime this year, depending on when foundry time becomes available.

"I'm grateful to have the opportunity to do the piece. … This is my hometown, and I like doing a piece for the city."

Reporter John Stang may be reached at 758-4429 or by e-mail at jstang@dailyinterlake.com