The Three Ps: The Story Of Every Sculpture

Introduction

Four years ago I wrote The Five Ps, yet I've found myself referring to three of them most often when talking about sculpting. Why mostly these three? Well, they tend to be the practical brass tacks of sculpting realism because, quite literally, if we get them right from the get-go, everything just seems to fall into place all by itself. So when people ask how to start sculpting, these three components are the practically-based keys I offer first. Because—gosh—those initial stages can be overwhelming, can't they? Where do we begin? What do we focus on first? What do we focus on next? How do we make everything come together? These confusions can induce folks to concentrate on things best left for later stages or get so lost in the process, they go way off track and end up frustrated. By the same token, troubleshooting is a critical skillset since systemic errors can propagate so easily, yet, curiously, these are often generated in the Three Ps almost exclusively. Get them right then and we avoid a lot of work later. The Three Ps also tend to synergistically work together to steer the process so reliably as to almost be a surefire route to success. So put it all together, if there ever was a formula for effective sculpting in realism, from beginner to advanced, the alchemy of the Three Ps would probably be it. They just seem to be the answer to a lot of questions. 

And that's nothing to sneeze at! The horse is easily one of the most confounding subjects for artists. Degas admitted he struggled greatly with their structure and movement. Stubbs dissected one in his studio to better understand the complicated structures. Da Vinci did study after study trying to perfect his understanding. Countless other artists have labored mightily to make this animal even halfway convincing in their media, too. Yet no matter how advanced we become, it's still remarkably easy to stumble. Any which way ya tackle it then, there's absolutely nothing about the equine that's easy to recreate.

But here come the Three Ps! These three interdisciplinary ingredients deconstruct the process to take our efforts from Point A to Point Z with the clarity needed to stay on track. Basically, they fold big, complex challenges into a symbiotic sequence, turning what's complicated into something more easily interpreted or troubleshot. And they don't necessary require a super in-depth understanding of anatomy either, but mostly an Eye that can See what's there at face value, giving us room to learn that subject at our own pace. So what are the Three Ps? In sequence, they are:

• Proportion
• Placement
• Planes

And that's pretty much it. In a very real sense though they're all the same thing if we think about it, or at least they entail the same conceptual approach. They're all features of relative spacial orientations, aren't they? About how everything relates to everything else in terms of length. Being so, they form a complete interdependent system together—take just one P out of the equation and it doesn't work. In a way they create coordinates on a 3D map: One deals with the relative distances that define each feature (or the relative size of things), one deals with the relative distances between them, and one deals with their relative distance from a singularity inside the animal. Put them together and we can create any realistic 3D equine we want.

So in essence, the Three Ps are a pure, simple distillation of what we do: Life-accurate proportional relationships. That's it. And that's both good and bad news. It's good because we have plenty of relationships to compare against to stay on target. Yet it's bad since things can go awry pretty quickly if we aren't playing close attention to things. Really, just one thing askew can throw the entire sculpture off. But even so, a good pair of calipers, solid reference materials, a sound proportional system, appropriate sculpting tools, and regular rechecking can really hedge our bets. Happily, too, the more experience we gain, the more our Eye refines to pick out what's off even without confirming with a recheck—it'll just seem wrong. On the flip side, too, it will also refine to identify what's right, helping us to say "done" all the faster.

The Traps Without The Three Ps

We probably already know that equine realism isn't easy, but what we may not know is that problematic habits can easily pop up in consequence. For one, we can perpetually fiddle with a piece so we don't ever finish it, chasing the ever-moving goalpost of perfection. We essentially get lost in a jumbled set of priorities that keep us from moving forwards. But learning to perfect our skills isn't the same as perfecting our piece. We need to finish what we start, and restart a new piece often because only through many pieces do we feed our knowledge base with new coordinates. Said another way, we develop the kind of mental library that greases the gears of our process. Learning how to say "done" then is just as critical as starting in the first place! That being the case, the Three Ps give us a kind of starting gate plus a finish line, encouraging us to chase that carrot, and in a structured way.

Second, we can begin to fixate on one area too early which almost always leads to errors. For example, we may focus on the head so much that it ends up more highly detailed than the body, creating an unevenness in finesse. Or that lopsided focus can quickly cause it or its features to morph out of proportion. Or we can self-sabotage ourselves with hidden systemic errors like asymmetries or misalignments. Yet if we worked the Three Ps from the start to finish, things tend to perfect themselves with less struggle.

Third, we can easily get lost in the process and find a lot of subsequent confusion, unable to find a way out and forwards. Yet the Three Ps present a kind of system that makes so much sense, we gain the ability to hop over that trap anytime it pops out in front of us. What's more, the separate components of the Three Ps helps us identify which one needs targeted development if we get lost again. Apply the Three Ps then, and we gain a kind of forward momentum that makes sense and supports our every tool stroke.

Four, sculpting different kinds of equines can intimidate us if they're so far outside our comfort zone, we believe they're beyond our ability. Yet the Three Ps provide such a clear methodology that's universally applicable, literally nothing is beyond our inspirations. Heck, the Three Ps can apply to any subject for that matter such as cats, dogs, elephants, orcas—whatever! They're a sculptural system for everything, not just equines.

And fifth, we can unfortunately start believing we're simply not talented enough, that we're inadequately skilled if we begin to struggle too much. But given the right ideas, we can make a far more successful go at things that cultivates our confidence, equips us for boldness, and feeds our curiosity for investigation. And the Three Ps can be exactly the right idea we need.

So wrap it all up and the Three Ps provide a system that lets us focus on the things that matter more at the right times rather than being distracted by the things that don't at the wrong times. But there's one important caveat: Because they're interdisciplinary, if one goes haywire, the others likely will as well. Yet remember that whatever we create, we can recreate—so don't fear. We got this. Don't let the prospect of failure paralyze you—because you will fail. A lot. That's simply the primary way the brain learns and how our skills grow. But the Ps help us troubleshoot so effectively we can instead learn to embrace our mistakes and discover that they're actually our teachers and doors and pathways. So in that spirit, too, let's take a closer look at each one, in sequence...

Proportion 

Our first priority is proportion, how each portion of the body is sized and relates to the sizes of other portions. Break it down then and it's about relationships since the only way to measure it is in relation to other features. That being the case, it also governs the overall shape of our sculpture because all those portions have to fit together like a jigsaw, inevitably creating the overall "outline" accurate to our references.

Now there's this, too: We often hear about "scale" when creating miniature equine sculptures, but scale is really just another way to say "proportion." And as our sculpture shrinks in size, absolute precision with scale becomes increasingly crucial because even a millimeter begins to represent a progressively huge amount. Indeed, 1mm at 1:32 scale is radically bigger proportionally than at 1:5 scale.

Because of its nature then, proportion pretty much entails everything we do. From deciding what size blob needed to sculpt an eye to the length we make the hip to the size we make the tendon, it's all an exercise of relative dimensions. So it's important to remember that, being all encompassing, proportion works locally, regionally, and holistically. By "locally," the dimensions of one feature relate to those of immediately neighboring features. Is the teardrop bone in proper scale to the eye, for example? Are the tendons in proper scale to the cannon? Are the zygomatics in proper scale to the eye? Then by "regionally," we have to account for relative proportions with surrounding areas. Are the ears in proper scale to the head? Are the biceps in proper scale to the hindquarter? Is the pisiform in proper scale to the foreleg? And, finally, a holistic assembly entails everything related as a whole. Is the knee in proper scale to the body? Are the "semis" in proper scale to the body? Is the rhomboideus in proper scale to the body? But in this, proportion also leap frogs to marry everything together. For instance, the hoof has to be proportional to the forearm to the hock to the ear to the biceps to the leg tendons to the eye and so on. Every feature relates to everything else, all fitting inside that "jigsaw" outline.

But here's the thing—it's so easy to be lured by the interest-value of the "fun" structural features like the eyes, ears, nostrils, hooves, muscle grooves, etc. We may even come to believe they're all that really matter and so "gloss over" the spaces between them. But the truth is that the interspatial landscapes are just as important. They aren't empty space or even negative space—they're a kind of feature themselves, chockful with their own information. For instance, the expanse of the barrel is loaded with curiosities, or the expanse of the triceps muscle, the jowl, or between the eye and nostril all have their own characteristics. And though these details may be subtle, they do well with due attention. (And we have to automatically account for placement in all this too, don't we? In fact, placement is really just another manifestation of proportion because those distances in between are also proportional relationships. With experience then, we'll find that we actually attend to both proportion and placement at the same time. Nonetheless, placement is separated out because it simplifies troubleshooting.)

Anyway, for further clarity, lets break proportion down into four facets:

1. The size of the clay blobs squished onto the sculpture that block in the structures
2. The proportions of all those clay blobs together as a whole
3. The symmetry in size of those clay blobs
4. The projected structural balance of all those clay blobs

Point #1: It’s useful to size the initial clay blobs close to the proportions of our target structure. Having to add or remove too much material can create distortions we can avoid by using only what we really need. Now some artists pop on an appropriately sized blob and shape it to the necessary form while others make little "snakes" and dollops to immediately block things in. It's up to you which one—or applying both—works best. And if we sculpt enough finished pieces, this ability to best gauge blob size becomes more natural over time. But the point is this: Start thinking about proportion the first moment you apply clay since it should govern every smooshed-on bit and every tool stroke.

Point #2: This refers to the overall harmony and reference-accurate measurements of the whole piece (here's a method for measuring them). It's really what most people would think of as "proportion." For instance then, we make sure the head isn’t too big, the back too short, the gaskins too long, the muzzle too small, the eyes too big, etc., in relation to each other and the whole. We also pay attention to the proportions characteristic of a breed, type, gender, age, or species. We check that details are proportional themselves while also proportionally expressed over the entire piece and not oddly clustered in one area. In short, we ensure that our piece has all parts harmoniously married together as accurately to our references as possible. Yet it's this facet of proportion that often goes off-track quickly if we get caught up in sculpting, so recheck it often. Calipers are instrumental here so get good ones that can measure on the fly (this is what I use). 

Please note that what measurements are taken, how they're taken, and where they're taken is the system here, not the actual lengths (diagrams above and below). Those lengths vary with each individual, species, breed, type, gender or age, and so are specific to this particular depicted Thoroughbred mare.

Now I've included this young horse with a slight head turn to demonstrate a few things. Firstly, don't be shy about doubling up on some measurements for clarity. This youngster is going to present some proportional challenges with all his "in between" lengths since he's still growing. I could even add more if I wanted, and I probably would. But this illustrates that age can factor into our measurements (which means this, too: What phase of color we put on our sculpture should ballpark the sculpted proportions that depict the imagined age). Secondly, note how this system works even with a slightly turned head? I've done enough proportional comparison studies to know what the length it would tend to be anyway as compared to the rest of the body so I can go forwards nonetheless. Third, I'm not accounting for conformation here, only measuring what's in front of me. So if we want to do that, we have to create more of an amalgam to pick and choose which lengths we want—and the only way to do that well is to have done lots of proportional comparisons. Study, study, study!

Point #3: This entails bilateral symmetry of every paired aspect of the body which should be of equal size and align pretty closely (sharing a job with placement again). This is another facet that's easily hiccuped since nearly every artist has a "good side" and a "bad side" with sculpting, perhaps having to do with handedness. Plus it can also be difficult to flip things in our minds to mirror the other side. So here too, recheck often with our tools and even with photo editing programs that can overlay transparencies of each side for direct comparison on our computer. Also think about flipping references in a photo editing program then print those out, too. For example, I've done this with the popular Ellenberger illustrations and often do so with the head references I've chosen to use. But symmetry also shares a job with planing in that it entails how "pooched out" from the median any given feature is compared to its pair. An eye orbit set further outwards than the other is an error in symmetry just as much if it were set askew. All that being said, however, remember that horses—like us—have a natural degree of some asymmetry, especially on the face. As long as it's within what would be acceptable in life, it's not something to worry about.

Point #4: Balance is about the consistency of the proportions despite motion. Are the moving proportions of our sculpture consistent to our references if it were standing square—are they the same? The bones don't change in proportion when the skeleton moves so if our moving sculpture doesn't match the proportions of our standing references, we've made an error. In this way, the body must "follow the hooves to the ground" since the leg bones don't compact or lengthen. Instead, it's their articulations paired with the motions of the spine that do so. So if we were to straighten out our flexed neck, for example, would it be too long or too short as compared to our references? Or if were to straighten out the hind leg, would it cause the hindquarter to tower over the forequarter? Things like that. We have to fix the pose to fit the proportions rather than fixing the proportions to fit the pose.

Wrap all this up and it means that proportion is literally everything we do, right down to the smallest blob of clay that makes all the difference in a correction. Going further then, placement and planing are just manifestations of proportion as well. So whether sculpting an ear, placing a pectoralis minor, shaping the topline, forming the hindquarter's surface contours, or inputting every muscle groove, it's all about proportional relationships. That means we can't let one thing slip past us which is why it can be so painstaking—recheck, recheck, recheck. The fundamental nature of proportion means, too, that there's no compensating for an error, big or small. We cannot make the muzzle bigger to balance out an eye that's too big, or make the hindquarter smaller to balance out a head that's too long, or make a gluteus maximus bigger because our biceps group is too small. But it all also means this—if something just seems off, check proportion first since it's often the source of hiccups, especially those that scoot by under our radar. Yet if we get proportions right, not only is most of our job is actually done for us, but we'll automatically create a pretty darned good sculpture outright. This is also why knowing how to make a good armature can help us along quite a bit by blocking in the correct proportions right from the start. For all these reasons then, proportion comes in at #1.

Placement

While placement can be folded into proportion in practice, for simplicity's sake it's separate in the Three Ps and refers specifically to "equine topography," the anatomical landmarks we use to map out our sculpture. In other words, the equine blueprint has anchor points, or landmarks that indicate the skeleton beneath the skin that need proper orientation on the sculpture. Being so, those anchor points give rise to the fleshy features, and so it goes. As such, these anchor points can become our literal connect the dots, and it's placement that deals with the proportional distances between them, locally, regionally, and holistically. Like with proportion then, without proper placement there's just no realism in the first place because it's not enough to just squish those proportioned clay blobs onto our sculpture, they have to be positioned in the right places, too. So, for example, we can't just pop on zygomatic arches willy nilly—we have to place them in a very specific, anatomically correct way. Or we can't just plop a trapezius muscle wherever we'd like—it has an exact anatomical position. Or we can't orient a femoral joint on the fly—it has to go in the right place on the pelvis. In this way then, placement has much to do with symmetry, too, since the placements of bilateral features have to match pretty well. Along with all this, we'll find that certain features can serve as anchor points for others, even cascade in a sequence. For instance, the ears have to be properly and symmetrically placed so the eyes can be so the tear drop bones can be so the nostrils can be, etc. So put it all together and, like with proportion, there's no compensating for an error in placement. One ear set lower than the other, or one Atlas wing set farther back than another, or uneven points of buttock simply have to be fixed.

Here are some basic anatomical landmarks we can apply, adding more as our knowledge base grows and as our sculpture develops since muscle grooves, tendon lines, cartilage edges, nostril rims, etc. become new landmarks. Towards the end, even smaller details like veins, moles, ergots, and chestnuts, etc. become more new landmarks. Think of it as progressively adding more dots to the connect-the-dots.

In this way, placement can be tricky because an incorrectly placed blob can displace other landmarks or create asymmetries, especially in the early stages when we're blocking in the piece to then entrench as a systemic error. So, for example, if a point of shoulder is placed too low (i.e., our scapula is too long) that can throw off the anchor points of the foreleg, torso, and neck. Or if the jaw joint is set too far back, that affects the head's other placements. Or if the patella is too high (i.e., if the femur too short), that will alter the proportions of the hindquarter and hindleg. Or if the eyes are placed asymmetrically, then the teardrop bones on either side will be asymmetrically placed as well, potentially throwing off the measurements on either side of the head. One point affects others. When such errors occur, our piece tends to look wrong yet we often can't put our finger on the problem—it bugs us but we don't know why. We'll also usually fight the piece since things just don't seem to fall into place as they should. It's important then to always be on the mark as closely as possible by understanding landmarks and rechecking their placements often. Understanding skeletal alignments well enough to predict where those landmarks would be is another handy approach. And the good news is this: When our landmarks are correct, everything locks into place naturally and the piece literally sculpts itself. So if we have persistent problems, go back to basics: Check proportion first then check placements because it's often one of those two. Because here's the thing: Those anchor points want to be in the right place so if we're careful, we can help them help us. (This is often why it's easier to paint pieces with correct placements since the color and pattern characteristics simply fall into the correct places, letting the piece "paint itself.")

It's often useful to visualize placement before smooshinig on the clay—to know where we're going before we get there. Where is our sculpting going? What's our next step with placement? Heck, draw on the clay with a pencil if need be! A handy trick with oil clay is to poke in a shortened toothpick on an anchor point to connect the dots better or make corrections clearer. For instance, the point of shoulder, point of hip, femoral joint, humeral joint, base of the neck, and many others can be noted with snipped toothpicks. Or think about drawing on the bones and muscles for clarity. And if we want, we can block in the bones in the early stages if that helps us visualize where to orient things. The trick is to work systematically to place those landmarks correctly rather than willy-nilly. Really, who wants to fight their sculpture?

All this together then, think about starting each sculpture in the same way, creating a methodical system with a consistent starting point. Whatever beginning point works for you is the right way, but for me, the wither and shoulder are my starting points. The benefit though with a method is that it creates a "chain of effect" that can pinpoint errors quickly when troubleshooting. For instance, if I feel something is off that I can't recognize outright, I go back to the withers and shoulders and remeasure everything from there in the sequence I sculpted, and that always seems to tease out where I went wrong. If we're doing everything all over the map though, tracking down the skew is that much harder. What's more, using a consistent sculpting sequence also makes the whole process faster—the more of a system we have, the more efficient we become.

What does all this mean? It means that placement is precise and technical. It's not fudge-able. It's not arbitrary. It's not open to artistic interpretation. So if we go about things carelessly, we'll either be fighting our sculpture or creating systemic errors unknowingly. It also means there's no compensation for incorrect placements—it's simply a fundamental error in realism. A displaced eye is a displaced eye—there's just no way around it. A displaced cervical serratus has got to be fixed. A displaced point of hip just has to be moved. But, on the other hand, it also means that placement errors can be easily fixed once pinpointed. In this, non-drying clays are very forgiving and simply entail moving anchor points around. Unfortunately though, epoxy clays aren't, and so fixing placements can be a real bear. In this case, working harder to ensure correct placements from the get-go is especially important and where having a system can be a particular boon. Any which way though, it also means that the more pieces we finish, the more accurately topography gets programmed into our heads, allowing us to more naturally place them quicker. So make a friend out of placement and we'll find our job so much easier.

Planes

Planes are all about the way the different body portions are angled, sloped, dipped, and curved. In short, it's about the body's surface contours. But these contours coincide with the underlying anatomy and, that being the case, planes are like proportion and placement, only they're comprised of points that poke out from a singularity inside the animal. Think of one of those pin toys. Going further, each gender, breed, type, age, species, and individual has its own planar tendencies as well, establishing the look of each very early on. And planes are a powerful thing because if they're correct, our piece will read "horse" even if there's no muscle definition or detail whatsoever. Indeed, many abstract or impressionist sculptures rely almost entirely on planes to get their point across as do lot of "spartan" realistic works—the sculptures by Herbert Haseltine come to mind, for example.

Very basic planes just to get an idea. The green portion represents the "shoulder bed," or "cliff" created by that strong plane. Note the tendency to form a "T" due to the hindquarter's general high points, too.

But planing doesn't just pertain to the contours, but also the angles features are set. Such things as the eyes, for example, are angled rather specifically onto the head so we can't just pop them on there haphazardly. Specifically, the eye's canthi are set, or "swiveled" at a slight angle forwards at the front canthi, and a slight inwards angle at the bottom rim—it's not flat on the head like a dolphin, whale, or fish. Or, for another example, the "shoulder bed" of the scapula and its muscles forms a "shelf," an outwards angle that catches light rather obviously.

Like proportion and placement, duplicating planes is essential and benefits from targeted study and practice. The best way is getting up close and personal with horses to run our hands over their bodies, programming those planes directly into our noggins. Daily grooming is a practical way to learn this, too. (And people wondered why I'd spend hours grooming horses rather than riding them! It's also something I love doing anyway.) In lieu of that, another handy study technique is to analyze how light bounces on the horse's body in a photo or videos. Where are the highlights and shadows? How are they flowing over his body? And just as importantly, where are the "grey areas" and what do they reveal about the surface contours? Then imagine blocking in those areas, our hands actually shaping the clay to duplicate the play of light with directional lighting mimicking the sun's location. Another handy way is to create some study maquettes using only planes. How little can we do and have it still read "horse"? How much can we do before getting into the nitty gritty of sculpting? In between there is realm of planing. Or think about distilling a horse down into a series of flat planes. How angled and big would these "tiles" need to be to get the point across? The flatter the angle or bigger the tile, the more basic the point. Then how would we curve, distort, or stretch those tiles to form the contours?

Some basic cranial alignments to get some baselines. However, keep in mind the blue line will vary a bit with breeds, individuals, and species. For example, some Arabians can have a slightly more concave axis whereas others, especially some Iberians, can have a more convex axis. (This Thoroughbred has a straight axis.) Notice how the line of the zygomatic tends to run under the set of the ear (pink line)? Also note where the “button” of the zygomatics are? It sits right next to the jaw joint at the back of the jaw. And notice how the back of the jaw runs up in front of the ear, to curve towards the high point? Regarding that, on some horses that highpoint can be more pointy while with others it can be flatter. Regardless, the ear placement is pretty much consistently set on the skull, that cranial depression being its seat. It's more of an anatomical position rather than a variable one. For this reason, the ear can serve as a pretty good landmark to build the rest of the head. Anyway...forgive his missing teeth!

It's not enough to just change the profile, we have to account for the axis of the entire head as well. This is where understanding anchor points with placement can be really important. (Anyway, we'll get more into all this in the future head sculpting series I'm working on.)

Looking for basic alignments can be helpful here too, to get planes spot on. For instance, the head has a series of baseline alignments we can use as springboards for the necessary adjustments to fit each individual, breed, gender, or species (also above). Breaking things down into basic shapes can also help visualize planes more easily (below). For instance, the planes of the hindquarter form a kind of "T" from the high points made by the point of hip to point of buttock and the femoral joint to the stifle. Or the cannon bone is a bit like a tube with a plank edgewise down the back. Or the triceps is kinda like a triangle. Oddly enough then, in this way, recreating our subject in abstract actually helps us achieve more realism. And here's the thing—our brain already keys in on correct planing, or patterns of light play, and so it plays a big part in a sculpture "looking right." For these reasons then, planes are part of the sculpting process from the very beginning and what we progressively refine or increase in number to add complexity, texture, and detail. So if we have proportion and placement right, our planes have a better chance at being right as well, helping the sculpture to "sculpt itself."  

Try to distill things down into basic conceptual shapes as we block in the features, thinking about each of them in terms of proportion, placement, and planes as we go. Here are some simple ones to get you started, keeping in mind we can distort them as needed and some can change with motion. They'll get smaller the more detailed or further along we go, too. The point is though, everything can be deconstructed into simple shapes to visualize what we're doing better. 

So what does all this mean? Getting the planes correctly blocked in is crucial in the early stages so that those patterns of light play will read correctly and help anchor points stay on target. Indeed, trying to get proportion and placement right on an incorrect plane is darn near impossible, requiring artistic manipulations that can veer from accuracy. All this makes planing so powerful, even one off kilter will make an otherwise great sculpture look odd. Complicating matters, its errors tend to hide the most as it's easy to be distracted by details, muscles, and features. As such, planing mistakes are usually the most likely to fly under our radar and entrench in our blindspots deepest, often making them enormously difficult to tease out. Really, if we have a problem seeing the "big ideas" of an equid, we'll probably have a problem getting everything else right, too. But the upside is this: Get planing right and our sculpture will read "horse" so strongly, we've gained a big leg up to a successful sculpture. We also gain tremendous artistic freedom in style. Indeed, we can input as little detail as we want based on our own aesthetic or we can create as abstractly as we wish, opening up whole new facets of work for us or of understanding structure. It also means correct planes will help us keep anchor points in place since that play of light gives us "reverse information," coming at the issue from "both sides."

In Sequence

But how do we apply all this? How are proportion, placement, and planing used to create an accurate sculpture? It's all about teamwork, about how they work together to actually do the work for us. Because here's the thing—just with these three, if we get them right, we can pretty much create a good realistic equine sculpture from start to finish. Our ability to troubleshoot will also improve since we'll gain a better idea where to start looking and what the solutions could be.

Nevertheless, the Three Ps work best when approached with a kind of initial sequence when we first start sculpting as beginners. We'll definitely reapply them as needed throughout our process, but when we first dive in, think about loosely working like this so they guide us more easily through the most potentially confusing early phases: 

• Get the clay onto the armature and sculpt in the proportions first—and try to be as close as possible. The wire armature itself should already be portioned out to help with this so that claying up just fleshes out its ideas. In fact, if you wish, you can sculpt the blocked in bones to further clarify structure. We should then have a horse-shaped "blank canvas" comprised of the correct basic proportions with the head, neck, body, and legs all scaled consistently to our references and each other as a general "jigsaw outline." Incidentally, age, breed type, species, or gender characteristics should be clearly evident even at this stage since proportion plays such big role with them. 
• Work on placements next, the correct anchor points in the correct locations to map in our sculpture—again, try to get as close as possible with the understanding this will be refined with more precision and detail as we go. Poke in orienting toothpicks or draw on your sculpture, if needed. 
• Using these anchor points as references, now sculpt in the planes, working from the biggest ideas to progressively more detailed ones. Use either additive or subtractive sculpting techniques, whatever you need or prefer. Our sculpture should then progressively look more realistic as we add in more, smaller planes for refinement and detail. 
• Start sculpting in earnest, continually rechecking and finessing the Three Ps until completion. 

As we work though, remember to recheck, recheck, recheck! We're smooshing clay, right? Ever so slightly then, smooshing things can push anchor points off their mark, even if they're fixed by a toothpick. Even so, with practice—finish enough pieces—we'll actually come to work the Three Ps simultaneously, more fully and effectively expressing their synergy to speed up our process. What's more, our Eye will refine to recognize the Three Ps more like second nature rather than something we have to work at. 

Now if we're working in polymer, oil, or ceramic clays, we can "work the whole sculpture" at the same time, which is so wonderfully easy. The "open time" of these mediums is very forgiving. However, if we're working in self-hardening epoxy clays, we have to deal with each body section separately since the epoxy cures so quickly. We need even more clarity then to project where we're going with this media, which is all the more reason to really pay attention to the Three Ps at every step. It also means that working the Three Ps simultaneously becomes even more important with epoxy clays since the suggested sequence doesn't work so well with them all the time.  

What does all this mean? Well, for starters, that the Three Ps can be separated for trouble shooting, whether in our piece or our skill set. Doing so helps to reveal our trouble areas and blindspots pretty quickly, too, so we tend to progress rather quickly compared to those who work less organized. And progress not only in our work, but in the understanding of our subject, and that feeds right back into better sculptures. Yet the Three Ps work best when smashed together into one process, attending to all three simultaneously, because the truth is they're all the same thing that just approaches the same issue in three different ways. This is why working all three at the same time is so effective—we're literally working with three check systems and finagling things with a lot more information. 

Yet the Three Ps aren't the only way to work, or maybe the suggested sequence won't work so well for you. Because in all actuality, whatever system that works for you is really the best way, so don't hesitate to create your own or tweak this one. The point though is to consider using a system since it provides a strong advantage that promotes accelerated development. This is exactly why those who complete many pieces using a system—whatever it is—tend to make developmental leaps compared to those who fiddle and work all over the map. 

Conclusion

Let's just face facts: Having a lump of clay in front of us to turn into a sculpture is daunting, isn't it? But by relying on the Three Ps, we have trusty helpers from start to finish. Because they encapsulate the entire process in an organized, understandable way, we really can't help but create a a good sculpture with their careful application. In this way, the Ps actually empower us to just keep forging ahead because they'll never fail us. 

Happily then, relying on the Three Ps unlocks our potential because we'll no longer be fighting everything, especially ourselves. They'll also mediate our self-doubts with their structured process, their plan, their method to the madness. And when it comes to turning an inert lump of clay into a beautiful sculpture, a plan is a welcome thing! Truly, the Three Ps arm us so well, we can take on any equine subject—heck, any subject—with greater confidence and accuracy. Nothing will be unreachable. 

And the initial stages of sculpting, when we're first applying the Three Ps, have so much energy, don't they? It's exciting to block in our piece and see it come to life! And what's particularly fantastic about the Three Ps is that they keep this energy in the piece by dampening the temptation to overwork it. Truly, when we're more confident in what we're doing, we become more confident in saying "done." 

Technically speaking then, the Three Ps are the trifecta of equine realism—they're the first and primary things that establish "realistic horse." Apply them and recheck them often, and their alchemy will make magic happen! Sculpting realistic horses may seem like a really complicated prospect—and it is, make no mistake—but it can all be deconstructed with this handy approach. Proportion, placement, and planes—the reliable tripod that supports all our efforts. Build on them, trust in them, and they'll always form a surefire foundation for success!

"Plan for what is difficult while it is easy, do what is great while it is small."

~ Sun Tzu

The Three Ps: The Story Of Every Sculpture

Structural Relationships: More On Equine Topography

[About this time back in 2015, I wrote the "Mapping Out Success" post. Since then though, I've learned some new tricks I'd like to share with you. However, it seems I can't go back to edit that original post so let's just have a do-over!]

Introduction

It's easy to understand how equine anatomy helps create convincing realistic sculpture. But aside from the technical know-how it provides, it also offers anatomical landmarks to use as guides. This is because these landmarks identify the dimensions, orientations, and placement of the bones and fleshy bits themselves, letting us better visualize and so translate anatomy into our clay. So an understanding of anatomy doesn't just provide the brass tacks for sculpting, it also gives us the means to put it all together. In this sense then, these landmarks can be likened to a kind of anatomical map, or “equine topography," that gifts us with some handy benefits for sculpture. 

For starters, we get fixed points to measure proportion and gauge biomechanics regardless of the pose. We can then approach sculpting like a connect-the-dots, and because these landmarks universally apply, we can tackle anything we wish. Even more, fixed points promote structural symmetry, a welcomed benefit because—as just about any sculptor will tell you—symmetry is a tricky nut to crack! Going further, equine topography helps us decipher references and life study more accurately, making our process that much easier and clarifying our knowledge base. And because it's the blueprint for Equus, it's consistent across ages, genders, individuals, breeds, types, and species, letting us capture these variations more authentically. Put all that together and equine topography becomes a powerful tool that takes our work to the next level. 

There are two layers to equine topography—the skeletal and fleshy. The subcutaneous, easily-palpated bone serves as the skeletal landmarks while muscle group configurations and cartilaginous formations form the fleshy landmarks. We shouldn’t rely on just one though since each informs the other. 

In order to use these landmarks, however, we need a few tricks up our sleeve. First, good proportional calipers are essential; they're truly a sculptor’s best friend. For that, I recommend the Prospek® proportional calipers (Figure 1). Second, a lockable compass is very handy for quick measuring. Third, a protractor, preferably one made of clear plastic with a pivoting ruler (Figure 2) measures angles such as for the shoulder, hip, pasterns, and hooves. Fourth, develop a pretty good idea of how the skeleton is constructed and where the joints are located because we need to find all this in life study, our references, and our sculpture regardless of movement. Fifth, form a working idea of the muscle layers and major muscle groups to better interpret what’s happening under the skin. Sixth, a set of good illustrations or charts showing these landmarks, and bodyworking resources are great for this. And seventh, cultivating the habit of checking all these landmarks throughout the sculpting process, start to finish. It's easy for things to go awry when we're so deeply immersed in sculpting. Plus, the actual physicality of sculpting can smoosh fixed points off the mark, so our rule of thumb is: Check often, sculpt, and then check again.

Skeletal Landmarks

Learning the skeletal landmarks isn’t difficult. The best way is to gently palpate them on real horses, visualizing the whole skeleton as we go. For this, it's also a good idea to have an anatomy chart and some landmark illustrations on hand to quickly orient comparisons. But if up close and personal isn't possible, gaining access to a real equine skeleton or a well-done sculpture of an equine skeleton can be useful, too (such as found in Zahourek Systems EQUIKENTM)). I also highly recommend the anatomy classes taught by Lynn A. Fraley. Also catch the live streams by Morgen Kilbourn on her Facebook studio page. Nonetheless, anatomical illustrations are immensely helpful as well, specifically equine bodyworking sources which are often full of landmark charts and those that show the orientation of the muscles to the skeleton. And sometimes we can find helpful how-to videos on YouTube, too, such as this one. Some other resources and books are also super helpful in this department as well such as Horses Inside Out and Anatomy In Motion (and their materials), Equinology and Anatomy In Clay classes, and others. (Just a caveat though with anatomical features painted onto the skin: Horse skin is tacked down onto the underlying flesh rather loosely in many areas and so it's not always a totally accurate indicator of what those underlying areas are actually doing. However, this technique is great as a basic start for further investigation!)

Then it's time to hone our eye by practicing, working to recognize these landmarks to find the whole skeleton inside regardless of pose, breed, type, age, species, etc. It's also important to See the landmarks in any media or format so working to visualize the skeleton in a ceramic sculpture, a Zbrush sculpture, a felted sculpture, or in a photo, on a computer screen, or in video, for instance, is incredibly useful. And consider drawing on printed out images to further train our Eye because once we can see “into” horses, we can see “into” our sculpture. To that end, here are some basic skeletal landmarks to get started: 

Fleshy Landmarks

Muscles, cartilages, and other fleshy components of the body attach to the skeleton in certain configurations, allowing many of their groupings to serve as landmarks for sculpting. So it’s important these fleshy features are oriented correctly on our sculpture since one askew feature can cause other things to shift out of place. Every little thing on our sculpture warrants our absolute attention (which is one of the reasons why this art form can be mentally exhausting at times by asking for a high degree of sustained focus). This is another reason why rechecking often is so critical: We want to catch our inevitable moments of distraction.

Fleshy Alignments

The magenta dots are the basic joints* and the blue dots are the most basic bony landmarks. The magenta line indicates the location of the cartilaginous joints of the ribs** (not the bottom of the ribs). The muscles groups are very simplified to clarify how the skeleton relates to them. It's also important to know how each joint articulates because they don't all move the same, but that's another blog post for another time. (*Each rib is also articulated with two adjoining thoracic vertebrae and with cartilaginous joints with the sternum, but I thought it would all be too confusing to show.) (**There's no cartilage connecting the ribs like that, but I thought a line just showing where the joints are located would be less confusing than a series of floating dots.)

Now this may sound like a rather daunting task, but it’s actually a fortunate correlation because once we can see the skeleton inside our sculpture, laying on the fleshy parts is that much easier. It works in reverse, too! In and of themselves, the muscle groups can help us tease out the skeleton since their origins, insertions, and arrangements are clues to the underlying bony counterparts. 

Proportions

How the dimensions of the body parts relate to each other is a foundation of realistic sculpture. Well, truth be told, it could easily be argued that everything boils down to proportion alone. Think about it: Can't everything we do actually be expressed in terms of proportional relationships? It even helps to distinguish between the age groups, genders, species, types, and the breeds. It's so fundamental, in fact, that a single misstep can instantly compromise our illusion outright, or depict a technical, age, gender, type, breed, species, or conformation flaw. And there's no compensation for a proportional flaw either—once it's made, it can only be fixed. For instance, if we've made the head too big, there's no making the tail bigger to balance it out. Or if we've made one cannon bone longer than the other, there's no making the forearm shorter to make up the difference.

Yet measuring proportion can be a mystifying process that can lead to some problematic assumptions. For example, some may simply go by "eye" and hope for the best. Now this can work to some degree, but it's often better to rely on more objective means in a technical art form. On the other hand, some may search for a magic formula that will churn out the needed measurements as though nature could be expressed by a single, simple equation. Or some may come to the conclusion that certain breeds have a cookie-cutter set of dimensions that should apply to all individuals of that breed. Or going further, some even insist that their preferred proportional measurements should be applied across the board regardless of individual, breed, species, age, or gender variations. It all boils down to this: In the face of so much confusion, a very simple system that removes it is desired, and that's perfectly understandable. We just have to be careful we don't simplify things so much that we're actually removing critical information from our process.

Because the truth is that proportion is complicated and is best learned through practice, study, and experience. There's also no equation, no formula, or even One True System. However, it does require a goodly understanding of anatomy and that can be a rather daunting prospect. Complicating matters, proportion is highly variable, being more like a lottery of measurements than a formulaic equation, and that can be really overwhelming. Put all this together then and measuring proportion can prove itself to be quite intimidating.

But the other truth is this: Proportion really isn't so hard once we recognize the landmarks, making it more easily decipherable, learnable, customizable, and buildable. So if we do our homework and pay attention, we'll develop that bigger knowledge base for finessing judgement calls, nuances, and diversities. And we can develop our own system and take as many measurements as we wish to help us along, too. And that's a key point: The methods for gauging proportion are as individualistic as the artists themselves—what may work for one won’t for another. For instance, I’ve tried numerical measurements but I simply cannot make this method work for me though it works beautifully for others. So it’s a good idea to experiment with many different approaches to find one we don't "fight" because, absolutely, the last thing we want is to be at odds with our own methods! 

Even so, it still holds true that effectively measuring proportion is best done with reliable tools like calipers. Creating realistic equine sculpture isn't like painting a landscape that can be fudged, but instead requires technicality and precision. And we have to be able to translate standing proportions to moving ones with relative ease. Moreover, having a measuring system that's quickly adaptable is handy to customize or make adjustments on the fly. The system should also be sensitive enough to account for the individuality of the subject along with the breed, type, gender, age, and species, and all their nuances. On the other hand, if we're sculpting an iconic archetype, the system should also be able to dampen individual components to favor an amalgam of individuals as a generic specimen. In other words, it should be able to average results. There's this, too: Certain features are vulnerable to problematic fads like the penchant for abnormally heavy muscling, really short heads, long, spindly cannons, small joints, tiny muzzles, or small feet that have been bred into some breeds. So a proportional system that can recognize that and compensate where we want is useful to have in our toolbox as well.

So for what it's worth, the method for measuring proportion presented here fits all this criteria, being one I've developed and used for years—perhaps you'll find it to your liking, too. It’s quick and easy, it accounts for individuality, it’s readily adaptable and customizable, it applies to any position, it can be averaged out with ease, it can quickly recognize fad-based changes, it's easily translated from resources, and it utilizes, even amplifies over time, our natural penchant for visual evaluation. But it does rely on a good understanding of equine topography, and the better our understanding, the more effective this system.

I've used a "baseline horse" here (above), an English Thoroughbred mare. This breed makes a great "basic horse" with its classic lines and timeless proportions. Just please note that certain proportions here reflect mare-ish tendencies such as the slightly longer back and bigger ears. Mares can also have finer necks and sometimes shallower jaws, or at least, less robust jowl musculature. Mare hooves should also be a good size to bear the weight of pregnancy well.

Now the pink dot on the shoulder is the point of shoulder (which is actually the cranial external tuberosity of the humerus) which establishes the length of the shoulder (which really is a bit of an arbitrary measurement since the actual end of the scapula is just above that tuberosity). However, please know that the little blue portion at the top of that red shoulder line denotes the space between the top of the scapula and the wither, i.e. that's not actually scapula right there. The yellow dot on the neck is the base of the neck, where the last cervical vertebra connects to the first thoracic vertebra, establishing the length of the neck. The orange dot on the hindquarter is the big knob on the femur right behind the joint to establish the length of the femur (or we can measure from the joint if we wish). The black dots on the legs represent the actual joints, first the one between the humerus and the radius, and the second between the tibia and the tarsus.

Now please caveat here: It's what measurements are taken, how they're taken, and where they're taken that's the system here, not the actual depicted lengths. That's to say each of these lengths is highly variable based on individual, age, gender, breed, type, or species tendencies so please don't interpret hers as dogma that applies to every equine. Instead, these specific lengths apply to this specific mare. What's more, the system here is basic so add more measurements as needed.

Also note that measurements are based mostly on the bones rather than the fleshy "outline." This is because flesh changes with conditioning, movement, individuality, breed, age, even gender, which means standard measurements based on them only apply when standing, right? Once movement begins, those fleshy measurements go out the window. This is why the measurements from the Ellenberger book (or those like them), for example, can get us into trouble rather quickly. However, bony dimensions don't change so if they're our fixed measurements, chances are good we'll be okay no matter the pose. Even so, we should know how the joints function—individually, regionally, and holistically—to understand how some things can appear to comparatively lengthen or shorten due to folding or bending, which can appear to happen in certain movements. (That being said though, if we're sculpting a direct portrait or directly from a photo, we'll need to take a lot more measurements than those depicted here, even those that account for those fleshy proportions.)

But how this system works is simple: Structural relationships are standardized into four measurements based on one standard measurement, the head (measured from the poll to the end of the muzzle). The three other measurements are 1/2 the head, 1/3 the head, and the femur length (which varies a lot, which is why it's a separate measurement). So this is where a lockable compass comes in handy—once that head measurement is taken, it’s locked, making it a simple task to apply it throughout the sculpting process. But, wait—it gets better! Take a piece of paper and draw out the head, 1/2 head, 1/3 head, and femur lengths, then with the proportional calipers we can now use those measurements to quickly apply them with ease. And we can arbitrarily make the head any length we want, automatically scaling the others in turn. So, in practice, I create a proportional reference chart for my sculpture based on my preferred reference photo. I print it out and then use that paper to keep those lengths so everything is in one place. Very handy!

Here, for example, is the primary proportional guide I'm using for Guaperas, my "yelling" Criollo stallion (I have one other to provide more options). You can see the four measurements I'm using in the black box, but the actual ones I'll be using are penciled in at the bottom. This way I can use my calipers to quickly apply them to my sculpture of him. Note how different his proportions are compared to the Thoroughbred mare? Proportion is a critical factor in breed type since a breed can have a very distinct set of proportional tendencies that define its look. By the way, I'm using other references for his head because I don't want to be sculpting this specific individual—I just need an idea of the basics for the breed.

And this is the proportional guide I'm using for Sage, the piece based off my feral mare medallion. Note how I've doubled up on the leg measurements between the one-half and femur measurements. It's okay to do that since a little bit more information never hurts. And again, notice how her measurements are very different from Guaperas who was different from that Thoroughbred mare? Try to come to things with an open mind since we may learn something if we're lucky! And, really, if I tried to pigeon-hole Sage into those TB mare measurements, she'd totally lose her distinctiveness and authenticity. But like with Guaperas, I'm going to tweak her head a bit so I can sculpt it more like my medallion.

Use this method over time and it actually starts to train the Eye to key in on proportional relationships and even errors rather quickly. A method that actually refines our Eye! Also note that we can take many more smaller incremental measurements against the head as we need such as for the eye, the cannons, the muzzle, etc. In other words, simply making things a fraction of the head measurement turns the process into a relatively easy and highly adaptable one. 

Also note that I haven't provided measurements for the width of things from the front or back, as in the breadth of the brow, neck, chest, or hindquarter. These actually do better with eyeballing and specific reference, at least for me, since they're highly variable due to conditioning, nutrition, age, breed, or individual variation (as is the case with the brow). So use good specific references in these cases. For example, the width of the Atlas bone, the first cervical vertebra that attaches to the head, varies between individuals and breeds. (However, a neutral baseline to make needed adjustments is this: An Atlas breadth about as wide as the brow.) Or the brow is also variable with individual and breed characteristics with some breeds having a tendency towards narrow brows (and heads) whereas others having wide brows (and sometimes corresponding crowns). Foals also have their own unique tendencies in brow width. The chest also tends to vary a lot since the scapula, being attached only by flesh, also has muscles underneath it that can be bigger with conditioning, nutrition, or genetics, effectively widening the chest. This is one of the reasons why many chunky drafters and stocky Quarter Horses have such wide chests: There's a lot of muscle bulk not only above but also below their scapulae. But it's also one of the reasons why Big Lick TWHs have such wide chests: Those weighted packages muscle everything up. Conversely, it's why malnourished horses are so narrow since their subscapular musculature is shrunken. This is similar to why foals can be so narrow because they haven't yet developed the muscle bulk to help "pooch out" their scapulae.

The head itself also has some measurements we can take, in my case I like to mostly go off a 1/3 head measurement. Just keep in mind that the head is highly variable so feel free to tweak or add measurements as needed—it's all customizable. Again, however, remember that what measurements are taken, how they're taken, and where they're taken is the system here. The actual proportions themselves belong to this specific mare. (Also note that ear length can be a function of breed type such as native British ponies who usually have proportionally small ears. Stallions also tend to have smaller ears.)

Symmetry

Symmetry applies to the bilateral halves of the animal, and so each paired feature should be as closely matched as possible. For example, eyes should be matched and level, leg bones should be of equal paired dimensions, muscle development should be consistent, the pelvic "box" should be perfect, zygomatic arches should match, ears should mirror each other, etc. But we also have to consider that, like us, horses have slight asymmetries, too, which is perfectly fine in a sculpture given it lies within the bounds of what would be acceptable in life. But beyond this, there’s rarely a more effective way to obliterate our sculpture than looking head-on at flounder-like eyes or having asymmetrical legs with one cannon quite shorter than the other, for instance.

But while bilateral symmetry is important, it’s not the easiest thing to achieve. Indeed, it's often the bane of a sculptor's existence! I took a WizardCon sculpting workshop and the instructor and I got to chatting about the challenges with symmetry, and he admitted he loved sculpting zombies because that was never a concern! And let’s face it, too—every artist has their “good side” and “bad side” of working (perhaps because of handedness) so it’s understandable that many dread having to match the other side once the preferred one is done. But there's some good news: Once we grasp equine topography, we're one step closer to making this painstaking process easier because rechecking the landmarks tends to naturally guide us to symmetry. Really, if we get the landmarks right on both sides, we definitely have a better shot at matching them. But be sure to check symmetry from all angles. For instance, we may get the zygomatics symmetrical from side views, but look at them from above and we see one is significantly protruding farther away from the skull than the other. Symmetry is a tricky thing.

We can also run into symmetry problems with our ability to flip images in our heads—some people can do it and some can't. Either way, if we want to check ourselves, a handy trick is to snap a photo on our phone of both sides, get them into a photo editing program and, with one slightly transparent, overlay them to see where they line up or where they diverge. Do this enough times and we can actually train our Eye to refine this ability pretty closely by itself.

Now here's a handy tool I got years ago from Mountain View Studios, Inc. (below), but I don't think they make them anymore. It came in two sizes: Large and small (I got both). Maybe you can make one for yourself since it's just a rigid metal rod with 90˚ resin cube-shaped cross bars. The top bar is fixed, but the bottom bar slides, tight enough to grab. But what you do is simple: Place it down the center of the sculpture's face in the front and use the crossbars to evaluate how level the features are to each other on either side. Easy and handy! 

Visual Tricks

Nonetheless, equine topography also incorporates artistic visualization tricks that make deciphering it a little bit easier. For example:

• The knee and the hock, from the front, can be a bit trapezoidal.
• The hindquarter, from the side, can be a bit diamond-shaped.
• The nostril is like a reversed 6 on the left side and a 6 on the right.
• The muscles on the forearm form a "W," as do that of the gaskin a bit, too.
• The barrel is a bit canoe-shaped with a narrow keel between the forelegs and a broad, flat-bottomed stern.
• The cheek muscling on the head forms a "W."
• The "salt cellar" of the zygomatics form a "U."
• A basic head alignment follows a line below the bulb of the ear to the "button" of the zygomatics to the bottom of the nostril (and sometimes the bottom of the eye though it can be above that line with many equines). The line of the mouth can somewhat parallel this at times as can the line of the teardrop bone a little bit, too. However, keep in mind that this linear alignment diverges with individuals, breeds, and species. For instance, horses with some convex or some concave heads will diverge from this straight line, sometimes markedly so. Therefore, this alignment is only a springboard baseline for needed adjustments—we have to start somewhere!
• The "button" of the zygomatics aligns with the back of the jaw (since it sits right over the jaw joint).
• The points of hip, the points of buttock, the femoral joints, and the tips of the Ilium (tuber sacrale) form a perfect symmetrical "box," because that box, the pelvic girdle, doesn't articulate internally.
• The wing of the Atlas (first cervical vertebra) is about a hand's width away from the back of the jaw.
• The simplified musculature of the neck (well conditioned) often forms a basic "M" with a hook that veers up to the wing of the Atlas bone.

Now all of these are just basic ideas, and there are plenty more, but the point is this: Try to distill things down into easy-to-grasp shapes and alignments to use as baselines for comparisons and adjustments. When we deconstruct and simplify things, we can start to demystify equine topography, making it easier to decipher our references and sculptures. Now then pair this with proportion and symmetry, and we're well on our way to a successful sculpture! (Then add in placement and planes and we're essentially set, so stay tuned for the next blog post on The Three Ps for more discussion on them.)

As just a bit of curiosity, it's interesting to notice how the equine is built on a kind of mirror image (below). Just like how each bone is moved by sets of antagonistic muscles, so the body plan is built on a "reflection" of itself. This may seem like a rather obvious observation, but it's curious how many art works, especially animated works, get this wrong. Perhaps the Pushmi-Pullyu really does exist after all!

Some Proportions That May Surprise Us

So once we familiarize ourselves with this system, or whatever system we choose, it's time to start exploring and investigating the similarities and the options. They're there! Gather a bunch of photos then and just start noting the tendencies and differences within any given grouping. And be sure to study different groupings! Indeed, "10 year old Arabian stallion" can go into age, gender, and species groups, not just breed. And don't forget about old photos! If we can make comparisons against older archetypes of a breed, for instance, we gain some perspective. Make all this a regular exercise and we'll start to amass a mental library of the possibilities. Now here's the thing—we don't have to remember all the different lengths. That's not the point of the exercise. The point is this: To beat into our noggins that variability is the rule, that tendencies are what's typical, that what's acceptable is a bubble, a spectrum. So trying to cram all this diversity into a cookie-cutter opinion of "The Only Right Measurement" will likely cause problems. That's to say this exercise should quickly chip away at our own dogma about what "should be" and instead present what can be. And that's a great thing, yes? It now means we have so much more possibility to play with in our clay, and our expectations have likewise been loosened up a bit to appreciate them more. Being able to See and appreciate more equine awesomeness? Sign me up! Indeed, many breeds, for example, are characterized by variability of type so to insist that only one of them is the "real" version unfairly dismisses perfectly good representatives. As artists we have the opportunity to celebrate all of horsedom, and all horses are worthy our admiration and respect. Any which way, we make a habit out of exercise, and we'll not only train our Eye, but also gain a better footing to make more balanced judgement calls while still picking out those esoteric nuances for flair.

Comparing proportional measurements with these landmarks may also gift us with some surprising revelations. Truly, the divergence of what the mind thinks it sees and what’s actually there is interesting! The stylized depiction of equines is a rather common thing in art, too, and so many have become conditioned to favor certain stylized proportions that aren't necessarily consistent to reality. For example, unnaturally short backs, exceedingly short heads, or abnormally large eyes (perhaps as a function of neonatal characteristics) can be relatively common stylistic distortions. Yet nature created the horse’s back, for example, to be a certain length to accommodate the necessary viscera to breathe, digest grasses, or to gestate foals. The more the back is shortened, the more these things are compromised. This isn’t to say that a long back is a good idea, but that there's a normal spectrum optimal for the animal’s biology, but we only learn that through a lot of proportional comparison. However, we often find that this normal spectrum can be considered “too long” by those otherwise conditioned. Or if we have a particularly long and sloping shoulder, that can also create the illusion of a "longer back" for those not familiar with proportional measurements. Likewise, a long hip can make the torso appear "too long" as well. Then add those two together and...well...it can throw off the unfamiliar eye. Yet it's only through a good grasp of equine topography that we can weed through all this to nitty gritty what's really going on.

Conversely, we may find that some sculptures have necks that are unnaturally long. But the more the neck is lengthened, the more the cervical bones are lengthened which stresses the ligaments and tendons that hold the chain of cervical vertebrae together along with the nerves that govern movement. This is why those horses bred with really super long necks have a tendency for subluxations, muscle issues, uncoordinated motion, and nerve damage. Yet only in art can we find this extreme made even more so, and one wonders if a firmer grasp of topography may have mediated this. It's understandable though as the neck is one of the hardest features to sculpt due to its biomechanics that seem to make it "shorten" or "lengthen" in motion. Truly, if any feature more needed a grounding in topography, it would be the neck!

Then when we begin to measure in smaller increments, we'll find that the horse's eye isn't as big as some sculptures depict. Gosh—some have orbits so big, one wonders how the cranium could accommodate! We'll also find that ears are variable in size (and shape) as are nostrils and muzzles. Even the width between the jaw bars varies, too. Some proportions also touch on conformation concerns like cannons and joints that are a bit too small, or tailbones that are too skinny (or anatomically too long or too short).

Now interestingly, science has established a more objective formula for determining the preferred size of the hoof—an actual equation:

Scaled down, we can apply this ratio by estimating how many "inches" our sculpted coronets are in circumference and then estimating the "living weight" of our sculpture then plugging those numbers into the equation. Pretty soon then we'll develop a mental library of hoof sizes that fit inside this spectrum for a short cut. (We also come to learn that hoof size isn't gauged by the length of the hoof wall, but by the circumference of the coronet band.)

Conclusion

Absolutely, understanding equine topography not only makes our process easier and more accurate, it also frees us to design sculptures from our own vision rather than being enslaved to specific photos all the time. Just as much, too, we can objectively study how real flesh morphs and the living body behaves, something which no static anatomical chart can illustrate. This means we're now able to use our Voice in full confidence to express all the wonder of the equine world we discover or imagine. In essence, we gain a better hold on the technical aspects of this art form so we can better express our artistry.

Even more though, understanding equine topography keeps us curious by propping those proverbial doors open to the possibilities out there. When we start adopting rigid expectations, we shut out a lot of the equine world from our clay and that's a shame. There's so much to explore and love out there, and armed with a practical topographical understanding, we have a great toolbox to express it.

Yet perhaps most importantly, equine topography reveals that all equines are individuals, blessed with infinite variations on the blueprint, which can only serve to inspire creativity and deepen our appreciation for this remarkable creature. It's so easy to be lured into habitual objectification in the pursuit of "perfection" or what is "correct." So quickly we fall too much in love with our opinions, but equine topography lets us peer into a world fuller and richer than our expectations. Letting the equine guide us, with his road map in hand, won't only steer us to our fuller potential, but reveal just how much potential wonderfulness there is out there to enjoy! Truly, equine topography represents the keys and the doors to explore all of equidom, so snatch them up, bust 'em open, and happy trails!

"Geographers never get lost. They just do accidental field work."

~Nicholas Chrisman

(Go here to download my 2020 Anatomical Reference Listing. New additions are in red, and in particular, scroll towards the end of the listing for "Device Apps," a new category with some great resources for you!)

Structural Relationships: More On Equine Topography