How I Design My Sheet Metal Sculptures: A Fusion of Space, Steel, and the Unknown

My inspiration? The boundless depths of space exploration and the fossils of Earth’s prehistoric past. If you’ve ever wondered how I bring these otherworldly visions to reality, buckle up. This is not just about bending metal—it’s about bending the mind.

Sculpture in the Age of Precision

Traditional sculptors wield chisels and hammers; I wield software and lasers. The process begins long before the first steel sheet is cut. Every sculpture starts as an idea—a blend of astrophysical wonder, ancient life, and the unrelenting human drive to understand the cosmos. My art isn't about recreating reality but about reshaping it, fusing paleontology with planetary discovery. Imagine a fossilized T-Rex claw infused with the geometric precision of a spaceship’s wing—this is the visual tension I thrive on.

To translate these visions into reality, I use advanced 3D modeling software. This isn’t just about drafting lines; it’s about manipulating digital forms in a virtual space, testing balance, movement, and shadow play. The goal? A sculpture that’s not just seen but experienced. My kinetic sculptures are designed to invite interaction—evoking curiosity, engagement, and sometimes even an eerie sense of life.

Why 4mm Steel?

Here’s where function meets philosophy. Steel is the backbone of human innovation, from the skeletons of skyscrapers to the veins of spacecraft. I work exclusively with 4mm-thick sheets of steel, a material that balances strength with versatility. Thick enough to command presence, yet thin enough to allow intricate detailing.

The weight, density, and structure of this metal allow me to achieve the perfect equilibrium between movement and stability. A sculpture needs to feel sturdy yet alive, and working within these constraints forces me to push creative boundaries. If you’ve ever seen my work in motion, you’ll know that the play of light on steel surfaces creates an ethereal effect—almost as if the sculpture exists in a realm between the mechanical and the organic.

From Digital Model to Laser Precision

Once the design is complete, it’s time for the laser cutter—a tool that slices through steel like a cosmic scalpel. This part of the process still feels futuristic, even after years of working with it. The energy of a concentrated beam vaporizes metal in a controlled dance dictated by my 3D blueprint. The result? Sharp, flawless edges that no human hand could replicate with such precision.

But here’s the twist: perfection isn’t always the goal. While the machine gives me precision, it’s the unexpected irregularities—subtle heat distortions, raw metal textures—that inject the work with soul. I often leave these elements visible, allowing the steel to tell its own story. After all, space exploration isn’t about pristine surfaces—it’s about surviving the raw chaos of the universe.

The Art of Assembly

With cut pieces in hand, the next phase is assembly. If designing is cerebral, this part is visceral. Welding, bolting, balancing—this is where the sculpture takes its first breath. The challenge is to make something static feel like it’s in motion, something rigid feel like it’s evolving.

One of my signature techniques is incorporating kinetic elements—sections that move with a gentle touch or respond to environmental shifts. It’s here that the prehistoric and the futuristic collide. A sculpture might subtly shift in the wind, evoking the slow, calculated movements of a living creature, or it might pivot with the force of an unseen cosmic tide.

The Dance of Light and Shadow

Here’s something most people don’t consider: light is as much a material in my work as steel itself. A well-designed metal sculpture doesn’t just occupy space; it transforms it. Every angle reflects, absorbs, and distorts light in a different way, casting shadows that extend the piece beyond its physical form.

By strategically designing gaps, curves, and perforations, I create sculptures that look radically different depending on the time of day and the surrounding light conditions. Under direct sunlight, a piece may project sharp, high-contrast silhouettes. At dusk, it may dissolve into a soft, glowing form. This variability means my sculptures are never the same twice—they evolve with their environment, much like celestial bodies shifting through space.

Why Space? Why Paleontology?

Great art doesn’t just ask questions—it embodies them. My work revolves around one of humanity’s oldest and most relentless questions: Where do we come from, and where are we going? Paleontology gives us a window into the deep past, revealing how life evolved on Earth. Space exploration offers us a glimpse into possible futures, hinting at what lies beyond our known existence.

By merging these themes, my sculptures stand at the intersection of time itself. They are not just objects; they are provocations—reminders that we are both ancient and newborn, explorers of the past and architects of tomorrow. Whether I’m designing a form that echoes the ribcage of a long-extinct creature or the streamlined contours of an interstellar probe, the goal is the same: to evoke awe, curiosity, and perhaps a touch of existential thrill.

Beyond the Sculpture: Interaction and Experience

A sculpture is never truly complete until someone engages with it. I’ve always believed that great art should invite participation—whether through movement, reflection, or sheer presence. My work doesn’t just sit on a pedestal; it beckons, it responds, it intrigues.

The best compliment I ever received was from a viewer who said, "I feel like I need to solve this sculpture, like it's a mystery waiting to be unlocked." That’s exactly the kind of response I aim for. My pieces are not static monuments but interactive experiences that evolve with their audience.

Final Thoughts: Steel as a Storytelling Medium

In the end, I don’t just design sheet metal sculptures. I create narratives—stories etched in steel, movement, and light. Whether it’s a nod to the mysteries of deep space or a tribute to the remnants of prehistoric life, each piece is an exploration of the unknown.

Art is, at its core, about making the intangible tangible. And for me, steel—unforgiving, industrial, eternal—is the perfect medium to bring impossible visions to life.

So next time you see a piece of mine, don’t just look at it—step closer. Tilt your head. Let the light shift. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll glimpse something beyond the metal—something ancient, something futuristic, something alive.

Do you have questions concerning my sculptures? Shoot me an e-mail over the contact form on my web site www.vonhauerland.com or visit my subreddit at r/von_hauerland and get in touch with my work!

Peter Von Hauerland