Goblin

For this piece, I actually had two distinct agendas in mind. The first was technical: I wanted to create something that felt a little complicated, pushing for an "impossible" or unbalanced physical structure on the armature. But the second, and more interesting artistic agenda, was the expression. I wanted a minimalist character whose face alone told an entire story. I don't know if I fully succeeded in capturing exactly what I envisioned (I was working from a reference that I absolutely love), but here is the scene as it exists in my head.

For a bit of context on the world: goblins are physically unimpressive. They survive by swarming in masses, and even then, they aren't very successful against bigger creatures.

If you let him tell it, he was visiting a hybrid town (humans, goblins, etc.), saw a bounty posted for a local monster, and in a completely illogical minute of bravery, decided to track the beast down and challenge it single-handedly. And somehow, he won. At least, that is exactly how he describes it—there were no witnesses, so we really have no idea what actually happened.

The sculpture attempts to capture the exact second he arrives at the goblin-village tavern. It's late at night, and the tavern is dimly lit by candles. He could have gone straight to the bounty board in the hybrid town to collect his reward, but instead, he took a massive detour back to his own village. He opens the door indiscreetly; he doesn't lean his weapon against the wall or put his trophy aside. He steps right into the middle of the room with a giant eyeball still dangling from his hunting spear, making absolutely sure everyone sees.