Greetings Dark Horse fans! You’re in for a special treat. David Scroggy, Product Development VP, conducts an interview with Tony Cipriano about the process of sculpting some of the best items from DH Deluxe.

Cipriano has worked in the industry for several years creating pieces not only for Dark Horse Comics, but for those other guys as well.

With a single glance you can see the level of hard-work, dedication, know-how, and down right professionalism Cipriano brings to these fine items.



Hmmm . . . on second thought, maybe you should read the interview . . . .

David Scroggy: Can you tell us a little bit about your background, and how you came to be a freelance sculptor of toys and statues?

Tony Cipriano: Well, let’s see . . . Very quickly: born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, in the mid ’60s / early ’70s. Great time and place to be a kid. Fast forward . . .

I was recruited out of the School of Visual Arts by the Walt Disney Company for an animation internship. At the time, animation was having a resurgence and Disney was making huge profits from the cartoons, so they were expanding their animation department and opening a satellite studio in Orlando to supplement the work being done in Burbank.

I quickly realized that the animation process was very tedious for me. I wasn’t happy in Florida, either, leaving my entire family and pals one thousand miles north. (I was strictly a New York City kid.) Hell, I couldn’t even get a decent bagel! But I stuck it out for a few years, and, eventually, I found myself doing maquettes for some films (Mulan, Tarzan, Brother Bear). I had the huge fortune to learn from two of the absolute best in the business, Kent Melton and Rubén Procopio.

But there was quite a bit of downtime in between making maquettes for films, and rather than going back to the animation desk, I decided it was time to try to go freelance. It wasn’t a hard decision to move back home. I really haven’t looked back. In hindsight, it was just in time, since that studio closed shortly after I left.

At first, freelancing was rough. But, thanks to companies like Dark Horse, the work has been steady over the years.

DS: Your subject matter is pretty diverse—from cartoon characters like the Flintstones (for McFarlane Toys) to realistic pieces. Do you have a preference? Is there a difference in how you approach each piece?

TC: No preference, really. I enjoy both for different reasons. The “toon” stuff is always fun since it is mostly large, smooth surfaces and flat planes devoid of textures. That means I get to do a lot of sanding, which is very relaxing and peaceful to me. I put on music and just sand and polish away. However, the animated characters can be deceivingly hard to translate sometimes. The older cartoon characters like Popeye, the Disney classics, and Hanna-Barbera’s toons were, at least, designed based in some sort of reality. They had form and some rudimentary structure that you could build upon. They turned in space. Many cartoons these days are very flat, two-dimensional “graphic cheats.” Most of the stuff on Cartoon Network is very hard to translate into 3-D.

Of course, the realistic pieces like Bettie Page are fun, too. Likenesses are always a challenge. Scrutinizing Bettie’s anatomy was a very difficult thing to do, but I muddled through it as well as possible.

I suppose, for me, the most enjoyable jobs are the ones that are half and half, like comic-book figures (the Spirit, Uncle Creepy) or literary characters like Conan. You have a certain degree of realism, but there is wiggle room to play and interpret.

DS: You seem to have a knack for creating three-dimensional pieces based on an artist’s style. I was wondering if we could review some recent pieces, and ask if there was something special or challenging about capturing each artist’s unique look when turning it into sculpture.

Let’s start with Frank Frazetta. You’ve done ReelArt Studios’ Snow Giants, and the upcoming Sun Goddess, both based on Frazetta paintings. What kinds of things are important in nailing that look?

TC: Well . . . Frazetta! Where do I begin? I mean . . . Frazetta is the man. No one, not even the great masters, inspires me like he does. I grew up drooling over those Creepy and Eerie covers, hoping to be able to draw like him one day. So when I had the opportunity to do those sculptures, I pounced. The thing about translating Frank’s drawings into clay, for me, was to try to get the anatomy solid and right, of course, but then, to look very closely at the painting and see where and how he pushed the figure and the pose.

I think what made him so great was the fact that he didn’t just rely on reference photos and simply copy the models; he caricatured the gesture slightly, and pushed the anatomy to the point where it still looks correct, but, man -- the energy that flies out of his figures is incredible.

The paintings are tough to sculpt, because when you are sculpting a commercial product that will be painted, you can’t possibly leave the surface rough or loose. You can add textures, but if it is left “painterly” like a lot of Frazetta’s art, it just will not look good with paint. It’ll just look sloppy. I always felt like Frazetta’s paintings would be better as bronzes . . . and sculpted in a looser style, to imitate his brush strokes. But, as I say, for commercial product, you just can’t do this. You have to make it tighter than what you see in the painting for the sake of the paint job. If he has the areas in shadow, you can’t just not sculpt things or leave it ambiguous. So, what I wanted to do, most importantly, was to make sure I had the gesture and anatomy correct. And, fortunately, ReelArt has some of the best prototype painters working with them: Kat Sapene and Dan Cope.

The other problems you face when interpreting these dioramas are spots you can’t see from the painting’s angle. For example, on both the Snow Giants and the Sun Goddess, you don’t see the main character’s face! Not having unlimited access to Frank, I simply flipped through my Frazetta books and found other faces he’d painted, and tried to get a “typical” Frazetta face.

DS: You have also been successful in translating Will Eisner’s classic The Spirit into a bust and statue coming from Dark Horse. It seems to me that Eisner’s graphic art walks a tightrope between realism and cartoon. How do you think about this when sculpting?

TC: Successful? Thanks for saying so, David. Those were two of my favorite projects from last year.

Eisner’s Spirit was different from many of the superhero-type sculptures I do, because, like Frazetta, he pushed his figures. The guy obviously knew his anatomy, and then he took it a step further and caricatured the figures. While I was happy with the statue, I think I could have pushed the pose even further. I wanted to do his art justice, and maybe I was being too careful. Look at how he bends the feet when Denny Colt is running! Awesome.

I know you folks at Dark Horse had a very special friendship with Will Eisner, so it was important to get those pieces correct. I remember what you told me when you commissioned the bust and statue: “Try to channel Will Eisner . . .”

Man, what a thrill it would have been to actually get to work with him on these pieces, but since he actually did the drawings specifically for these sculptures, it was a great project.

DS: You have done a variety of busts based on Robert E. Howard characters. Several of the Conan pieces are inspired by Dark Horse’s comics by Cary Nord. The new one evokes John Buscema. Your King Kull was based on Andy Brase’s cover. How do you undertake all these different looks while remaining true to the core characters?

TC: Thankfully, all of these guys are masters of anatomy, which makes my job so much easier. I can simply begin with a pose right from one of their panels, try to sculpt a good, solid anatomy, and then go back and look at the art and try to catch little pieces of what makes each style unique, incorporating them into the clay. But it all begins with gesture and anatomy and these guys are damned good.

With Brase, it was a matter of transferring the clay into a rock-hard toy wax, so I could try to etch and carve in some of the crosshatching and tiny, beautiful detail that he puts in. With Nord, it was all about action and gesture (Thoth-Amon and Janissa) . . . Cary’s art explodes off the page. It was hard to catch a moment in time that had the same energy as one of his panels.

And Buscema? Don’t get me started on Big John. My favorite Marvel artist. His Conan is (dare I say it?) as definitive as Frazetta’s to many fans . . . myself included. Back in the ’70s, you had to wade through piles of Savage Sword of Conan magazines on my bedroom floor. Buscema’s Conan is not as vicious looking as Frazetta’s . . . Buscema drew him more handsome and clean cut. Like Fabio. :-D

But Buscema’s was cool because he made him a giant, imposing brute . . . huge back muscles, fearless . . . and he consistently drew flawless, dynamic anatomy. Again, sculpting Buscema’s Conan was one of those “dream” gigs, but I can’t tell if I did him justice. I hope so. It’s tough, I tell ya. But when you are working from art done by master draftsmen, it makes life much easier on the sculptor.

DS: Is it true that you modeled for the Uncle Creepy statue? I think I read that in Diamond Previews.

TC: Can I curse in this interview?

While it’s true that Uncle Creepy and I share the same protruding brow, bad posture, and liver spots . . . you ought to see the Cousin Eerie companion statue. It resembles a certain Dark Horse Product Development VP. Strange that it remains unproduced . . . hmmm . . .

DS: Do you think there is a “best” size or scale? We are seeing everything from miniatures, to 1:2, and even 1:1 scale, and everything in between. As a sculptor, do you have an opinion as to what works best? How about as a collector?

TS: Well, I know that shelf space is always a concern for collectors, but I prefer a slightly larger scale. Maybe 1:5 scale . . . or even 1:4 scale (eighteen-inch figures). I know many companies making comic-based statues are doing them at 1:8 or so, which is a nice size, but as a sculptor, I feel like I can get so much more in terms of detail when working bigger. The larger scale also frees me up in terms of pose. In fact, the client usually dictates the scale, not me. But I do try to avoid taking on jobs for miniatures. You’d be surprised, but the tiny pieces sometimes take longer and cause me more gray hairs than the enormous pieces.

DS: Could you describe the stages in creation of a typical piece? Clay, wax, casting, painting, etc.?

TS: In a nutshell, it goes something like this:

1. Concept art/sketch. (Not necessarily done by me. Sometimes provided by the client.)
2. Clay rough (or finish, depending on the project).
3. Waste molds to wax copy (depending on the size and type of work).
4. Final silicone mold.
5. Resin prototypes (sometimes I do it; sometimes I farm it out).
6. Paint master (I used to do it, but there are much better painters out there).
7. Off to the factory for production. (He comes so often, my kids call our UPS guy Uncle Jimmy . . . My wife calls him “Honey” . . . Should I worry?)

DS: Does your understanding of the manufacturing process influence how you sculpt something?

TC: It shouldn’t. I just try to make the best sculpture I can make, and hope the factories know what they are doing.

If I see an area that I know would be impossible to mold or something that would be way too fragile, I’ll try to fix the problem on my end, but for the most part, everything I’ve done usually gets made without any problems.

DS: Are there ever times when you want to try something but don’t for technical reasons?

TC: It always seems to involve flying figures! I wish there were a way to do a flying figure that didn’t involve a rod sticking up his rear end. I’ve seen some pretty creative ways to get a figure up off the ground though.

DS: Are you a comics fan? What comics do you like?

TC: Dark Horse Comics!! Was that the right answer?

I was a huge comic-book nerd back in the day. I loved Mad, Cracked, Famous Monsters, Kirby’s Captain America, Gene Colan’s Iron Man, Neal Adams’s Batman, and Curt Swan’s Superman. I used to ride my bike to the candy store, get a vanilla egg cream, and buy a stack of comics. Great days, man . . . great days.

I stopped really reading comic books religiously when I first began to notice the girls sitting next to me in plaid Catholic-school dresses . . . This was around sixth grade. My beloved DC, Marvel, and Warren magazines, along with GI Joe, Aurora monster models, and even my baseball cards, took a back seat once puberty rolled around.

But I still have a soft spot for them (the comics, I mean). I still have many of my old comics. And since my job requires knowing my subjects, a forty-five-year-old man can still get away with a trip to the comic-book shop.

Check out Tony Cipriano's work and behind the scenes images by clicking here.