Down a Rocky Road

By Molly Reusser

Since I was a kid a rock collection seemed like a natural thing to have. Glittery history filled chunks formed in the crusts of the Earth? Sign me up. Sure, in art school (2014) we had metal, wood, ceramics and the like but I associated rock sculpting with ancient figures who had nothing to do their whole lives other than chip away at a massive pillar. On a whim, I attended the Pilgrim Firs symposium (2023) and was blown away. The sheer magnitude of the operation, the audacity of bringing over 100 people into a field to absolutely decimate the hardest substances known to man with power tools, it was awesome.

Growing up neurodivergent, I was obsessed with learning new things. I acquired a stack of nature encyclopedias that I reread a thousand times. Drawing and sculpting allowed me to create goals to endlessly entertain myself so I was never bored being alone.

Ideas come from dreams. The occasional hallucination. Fashion magazines. Mold on a bagel. My pursuits are held together by a delicate system of lists; whenever I have an idea, I write it as soon as possible. I am currently interested in themes of magic versus science, and our connection to nature in the age of the internet. And aliens.

For three years at the dawn of Covid (2020) I was on the computer 24/7 learning to 3D model for entertainment companies. Staring through the window at the sun kissed trees outside and then back into the screen devolved into dreadful disassociation from the natural world. Software allows for amazing opportunities but I decided I never want to solely create online. Now, even if I plan to photograph and post work, or alter it digitally, I start traditionally.

I spent later years (2022) teaching in a ceramic studio, but was frustrated by the abundance of factors that caused sculptures to explode or melt. Carving my first rock felt like the mark of a much-needed change.

I think of a new rock sculpture as a design challenge (2025). I decide which ideas are suited to what rocks and, as of late, how long the creases will take to polish. Then I combine what I have been taught with creative instinct and try not to butcher the details. Worst case scenario, I shave it into a smaller sculpture. Hand sanding can be tedious but I try to think of it as a final phase of reflection in which I can listen to music and audiobooks. When it is finished, I ponder how long it will exist in the world before disintegrating into a dusty stump, and who will find it while it’s still recognizable.

In a world where people are more isolated from each other than ever, trying a such a unique craft and having conversations about art is lovely. Especially surrounded by majestic PNW nature. Thanks to those who have invested in my sculptures. And to Carl Nelson for offering me a fresh broadened outlook on my creative pursuits. Also thanks to anyone who gifts me a piece of Calcite (2026).

Published Sculpture NorthWest December 2025 Issue