Simon Cooley Q&A

Simon Cooley is an internationally renowned sculptor whose work has been exhibited across the UK and is held in private collections around the world. He is the artist behind A Place for Reflection, the striking new sculpture on the lawns of Moulsecoomb Place, generously gifted to the local community by Richard Upton of Cathedral Group. In this interview, Simon reflects on his journey as an artist, his relationship with stone, and the thinking behind creating a work that invites curiosity, contemplation and connection.

1. You live and work in Wales and work across stone, metal, clay and wood. Can you tell us a bit about your journey as an artist? What first drew you to sculpture?

I grew up in London in the 1950s and 60s in a working-class family. My parents worked long hours and life was often difficult, but they did one thing that stayed with me forever – they bought me a cheap flute and paid for lessons. I still play today, and music has been a thread throughout my life.

I left school at 15 and was living on my own by 16, taking whatever work I could find. One job changed everything. I became a messenger for an art studio in West London, where sculptors, silversmiths, designers and filmmakers all worked under one roof. Whenever I wasn’t making deliveries, I spent time watching the sculptor, Bernard, at work. He saw my interest and began teaching me to draw, sending me to the British Museum to sketch sculpture before introducing me to life drawing.

Bernard couldn’t employ me himself, but he introduced me to two busy sculptors who took me on as unpaid labour. For two years I learnt the craft through long hours of practical making, including time working with stonemasons. More importantly, I learnt to love the work itself.

Over the following years I earned a living through mould-making, casting and assisting other sculptors, while taking on building and decorating jobs when needed. A chance conversation eventually led to ten years making sculpture for BBC Television’s Visual Effects department. Alongside that, I became involved in helping establish ACAVA, creating affordable artist studios and developing community arts projects across London.

Although I’d worked professionally as a sculptor for over twenty years, I decided at 39 to study at Central Saint Martins. I wanted to understand where I fitted within the art world. After graduating, my wife and I moved to Wales in 2003, where we’ve lived ever since. Today we divide our year between running sculpture workshops and making our own work, balancing creating with sharing what we’ve learnt.

2. Your practice spans several materials. What is it about stone specifically that keeps pulling you back to it?

I’ve never settled on one material in the way many artists do. Stone, clay, metal and wood all have their own qualities, and a sense of the sculpture always come first. The material follows.

Forged steel, for example, is perfect for sculptures that begin as line drawings because it allows a drawn line to become something that moves through three-dimensional space. Clay is fluid and responsive, recording every touch of the hand. Although it’s fired into a hard material, it remains fragile, and for much of my working life it was the starting point for sculptures that would eventually be cast in other materials.

Stone is different. It is the original building material and perhaps the first material used for sculpture. It comes directly from the earth, requiring little more than quarrying and cutting before it can be worked.

It is also the most physical material I use. Carving stone demands planning, patience, sharp tools and the full engagement of the body. Only forging metal comes close to that experience. Some stones allow great detail, others demand a simpler response, but every piece asks something different of you.

For me there is something primal and essential about stone. Perhaps it’s its stillness.

3. The sculpture is carved from stone carrying 350 million years of geological history. How did you choose this particular stone, and what was the process of working with material that old?

Every public sculpture has to work within a budget, but Kilkenny Blue Limestone from Ireland wasn’t simply the affordable option, it had always been my first choice. It had the strength needed for the top stone of the large T-shaped form, and I loved its character. When honed it becomes a deep grey-blue that can appear almost black, changing subtly with light and rain. Up close you can see tiny fossilised crinoids, reminders of the stone’s 350-million-year history.

Although A Place for Reflection responds to the prehistoric taulas of Menorca, I wanted this sculpture to feel unmistakably contemporary. The form, finish and material all reflect that intention.

A sculpture of this scale could only be made through collaboration. The team at McKeon Stone in Ireland quarried the bespoke blocks and milled the basic forms before they came to me. From there, every curve and surface was worked by hand. Each of the eight stones surrounding the central T required its own unique radius, so I made wooden templates and carved every curve individually before creating the final textures using different bush hammers.

From first ideas to completion, the design, planning and making took two years.

I also love the story of how it came together. It began with inspiration from prehistoric people in Menorca, was made possible by the gift of an Englishman, carved from Irish stone, delivered by a Polish driver, installed by Welsh craftspeople and filmed by a French filmmaker. We all worked together towards a common aim. What could be better than that?

4. A Place For Reflection now sits at Moulsecoomb Place. What did you want people encountering it on the lawn – perhaps without any context – to feel or notice?

That’s an interesting question because I’m not sure I want to answer it too directly. If I tell people what they should feel or notice, they may begin looking for that instead of encountering the sculpture on their own terms. I’d rather leave room for curiosity.

What I can say is that this sculpture is intended to be a place, not simply an object. It occupies a space, but it also creates one. The spaces between the five forms are just as important as the stones themselves, inviting people to walk through them, pause within them and experience the work from different directions. There isn’t a single viewpoint or a correct way to approach it. As you move around it, the relationships between the forms continually change.

Everything about the arrangement is deliberate. The distances between the stones and the proportions of each element have been carefully considered so that the sculpture slowly reveals itself as you spend time with it. It isn’t something to glance at once and walk away from.

Here is a suggestion for people to try. Approach the sculpture across the lawn from in front of the house. You will see that there is a gap in the centre of the four sculptures behind which the big T shape is hidden. Then slowly and quietly step into the gap, when just inside stand still and without having to move your head try to let your eyes see the whole of the top stone of the T then gradually try to include the bottom stone as well.

Enjoy all aspects of these stones. The essence of this sculpture is Balance.   

5. This piece will be experienced by a community facing real everyday challenges, in a historic setting that’s becoming a creative campus. What do you hope it means to the people of Moulsecoomb, specifically within that context?

What does it really mean to be creative? It’s a word we use all the time, but I think its real significance is often overlooked.

For me, creativity isn’t confined to making sculpture. It’s a way of paying attention to life. Even something as ordinary as sweeping my studio floor can become creative if I’m fully present – noticing the movement of my body, the texture of the floor, finding the most efficient rhythm. Without that attention, it’s simply a chore. With it, the work comes alive.

I think that’s what creative activity can offer us. Not simply the chance to make something, but the opportunity to become more open, more curious and more engaged with the world around us. That sense of opening can’t really be taught, but it can be encouraged through the arts.

I hope some of the curiosity I felt while making A Place for Reflection has found its way into the sculpture itself. Now that it’s installed, I still want to keep looking at it, discovering more each time. If it encourages even a little of that curiosity in other people, then it has done what I hoped it would.

Moulsecoomb Place now serves a very different purpose from the one it was originally built for. Once a place for the privileged, it is becoming a place for the whole community. That transformation feels deeply creative to me, and I’m delighted that the sculpture can become part of that story.

You can see more of Simon’s work here