The Leaping Deer

“The Fall That Defies Gravity”
Scrap Metal Sculpture Recycled Steel, Found Iron, Bolts, Chains
Forged from fragments of forgotten industry, this leaping deer is an act of defiance, not against gravity, but against abandonment. Welded from scrap and rusted remnants, the form speaks both of fragility and resilience: steel reimagined as sinew, machinery reborn as movement.

The deer is captured mid-fall one leg grazing an unseen plane, the rest of its body stretched into motion. There is no ground beneath it, only the tension of descent. Yet, instead of collapse, there is balance. Instead of panic, grace. The pose invites discomfort, asking the viewer: Is this creature falling, or flying? Dying, or dancing?

Each piece of metal, once discarded and inert, now sings in union. A rusted gear becomes a joint, a bent pipe becomes muscle, a chain link pulses with implied blood. There is beauty in its imperfection, the scars of its past life are not hidden, but integral to its form. The sculpture does not pretend to be seamless; instead, it insists on its history.

From different angles, the deer shifts: from predator to prey, from creature to spirit. The downward leap suggests surrender, but the singular balance defies it. The contradiction is intentional, a meditation on vulnerability as a form of power.

As you walk around it, you may begin to feel the gravity that this deer resists. Not just the physical kind, but the emotional weight of being made from what was once considered waste. It reminds us that motion does not require perfection, and that grace can be constructed from ruin.

This sculpture does not ask to be admired for its elegance, it challenges you to confront your assumptions, What do we discard too quickly? What strength lies in things broken, but not beaten? What is the cost of standing still when the fall might carry us forward?
It is not a deer in flight. It is a question in metal, frozen in the act of becoming.