Sculpting Through the Pain:

An Interview with Paul and Jason

By: Maya Rhodes, Arts Correspondent

 

In a quiet studio gallery tucked away in the forest on the edge of Rosliston, brothers Paul and Jason sit across from me, hands dusted with clay, eyes clear but heavy with something far older than their years. Their sculptures, silent, striking figures with expressions that linger, line the walls like silent witnesses. It’s hard to believe they’ve only been sculpting for two years. But once they begin to speak, it’s clear that art was never just an option. It was a necessity.

 

Maya Rhodes (MR): You’ve both only been sculpting for two years, but your work is already being spoken of in the same breath as established masters. That’s extraordinary. What drew you to sculpture?

 

Paul: Pain. On two levels, really. One is physical and the other is emotional. Some of it is collateral damage from the condition, the rest from us tragically losing our parents.

It was that which brought Jay and me together again. We've always been close, but looking after our parents cemented our desire to do something together. We were both disillusioned with our 'jobs', so the idea of us working together was a no-brainer. Our condition, fibromyalgia, means we’re in constant pain. Clay gave us a way to speak when words didn’t work. 

 

Jason: We both understood the need to do something with what we were feeling. It wasn’t about art in the beginning, not really. It was finding a path, a way out from the world we found ourselves in.  Once we began to really pull the forms together, we started to see a trend in our work. All of our lives, we've been haunted by figures and faces, echoes of something, someone that wouldn’t let go.

The clay became a way to pull them out, to sit them in front of us, so we could confront them

 

MR: Your work is often described as “challenging”, figures that stare back at you with a kind of quiet agony. How much of that is a reflection of your own experience?

 

Paul: Almost all of it. The faces, the expressions, they’re not imagined. They’re remembered. Some are born from pain, some from dreams, others from moments that left scars. We don’t smooth the rough edges. We let it show. It’s honest that way.

 

Jason: The pain is in the clay, but so is the relief. It’s strange, sculpting physically hurts, yet it’s what helps us hurt less. Since starting, we’ve cut our painkiller intake by half. That’s not just art, that’s medicine.

 

MR: You’ve mentioned wanting to raise awareness about fibromyalgia. How does that integrate with your artistic mission?

 

Jason: Fibromyalgia is invisible. People look at us and think we’re fine. But we’re not. Art makes it visible. Every piece is a voice for those who don’t know how to explain what they’re feeling. We want the work to say: “This is what it looks like inside.”

 

Paul: But it’s not just about pain. It’s about endurance. About finding light inside a bruise. If someone looks at our sculpture and feels seen, or even stops, we’ve done our job. That pause, that moment, is awareness.

 

MR: There’s something deeply philosophical about your work, almost spiritual. What role does philosophy play in what you create?

 

Paul: A huge one. We’re interested in what connects us not just as people, but as beings, emotional, fragile, mysterious. The sculptures ask questions. About identity. About suffering. About the soul. We don’t offer answers. We offer mirrors.

 

Jason: We believe the clay holds memory. And energy. That moment between the artist, the piece, and the person standing in front of it, that’s a bridge, a kind of communion.

We want our work to exist on that bridge.

 

MR: Where do you hope this journey takes you next?

 

Jason: Up the art ladder, yes, but not just for prestige. We aim to create a platform where art, illness, philosophy, and visibility intersect. We want to be heard, not just seen. We want to make space for others with conditions like ours.

 

Paul: Success for us isn’t just galleries and exhibitions, although we do love that, it’s creating something lasting, a legacy, not just of art, but of truth. If someone with fibromyalgia sees what we’ve done and feels less alone, then that’s everything.

 

MR: Final question, if you had to describe your work in one word?

 

Paul: Reckoning.

 

Jason: Release.

 

As I leave the studio, I find myself glancing back at one of their sculptures, a face half in anguish, half in peace. It’s hard to look at without 'feeling', and it's harder to look away just like Paul and Jason intended.