Adrian Worsley says he always knew he wanted to work with metal. Photo: RNZ/Leah Tebbutt
The best compliment Adrian Worsley ever received was about his first-ever sculpture - a motorbike.
"I had it on the back of the trailer and this guy pulled up and asked if I was going to restore it.
"I think that was by far the best compliment, so it must look like the real thing."
Nowadays, Worsley is better known for his sculptures of animals, such as a large horse in the centre of Matamata.
More important than what he's making is what he's making it with.
Adrian's first sculpture of a motorbike came with the best compliment he's ever received. Photo: Supplied
"Everything I make is basically 99 percent recycled, all recycled material I've found on farms and random places."
A hot water cylinder, pool fencing, frying pans, engines, and golf clubs are all pieces you can find incorporated into one of his many designs now spotted around the country.
"Anything with names and numbers on I really like, because it gives it more character. I think it makes it more interesting. Tools are always a good one because everyone always recognises tools."
This is just the beginning of winding alleys of categorized scrap metal. Photo: RNZ/Leah Tebbutt
All the pieces of the puzzle are located behind his workshop in Te Aroha, where alleyways upon alleyways are packed floor to ceiling with categorised pieces of scrap metal.
"The scrap I'm most after is the stuff with the stories, like from local farmers. It has a bit of history to it and I just carry it on."
While you may be able to identify objects in Worsley's work, the magic is that they are all moulded and welded together to look like the shape of the muscles.
"It isn't easy ... Everything is done in my head. Ever since I was a kid I can see in 3D. So I have a very clear picture in my head of what the sculpture looks like.
"And I don't start it until I've got that picture and I know exactly where I'm heading."
Worsley has been working with metal for 23 years - at first fitting out kitchens, bars and cafes.
Adrian Worsley's horse sculpture in Matamata. Photo: Supplied
While that was a good business, Worsley found he was never at home so 15 years ago he made the decision to move into art-making.
"I went from a really good business to the art world, which I thought would be relatively easy... it wasn't.
"For about four years, I almost went broke because we just weren't getting any jobs. But luckily I got a few commissions from a few well-known names and that was just enough to get me going.
"Now it's the opposite, I just can't keep up."
Most of Worsley's work is done on commission, and although the clients like to keep the price they pay confidential, each piece can take up to two years to complete.
This gargoyle is made from a copper hot water cylinder, among other things. Photo: RNZ/Leah Tebbutt
"You imagine two and a half years' wages ... but after saying that, it's never been about the money for me. It is more important for me that the clients are happy and I'm happy.
"Nothing leaves this workshop till I am 100 percent happy with it myself. The horse in Matamata, for example, I spent an extra three months on that at my own cost to bring it up to where I wanted it to be."
But with that, there is a cost to Worsley, too.
"All my sculptures, I get so obsessed with them it's really hard to let them go so part of the deal is I get to keep them for a few months."
It's something like a grieving process, he says.
Six months of research goes into each sculpture before the real work even begins.
The latest project of a cow is in the initial stages and will take 1.5 years to complete. Photo: RNZ/Leah Tebbutt
"I watch horses in slow motion, I have thousands of pictures, I work with a vet that helps me double-check things. It's really intense.
"That's why I need that wind-down period because it really does take you a while, I'm living with that horse for over two years. So you need that grieving period."
Worsley is currently working on a cow. He's at the next step after research, assembling the wireframe which sets his measurements.
"That entire frame will be cut out and put in the rubbish bin, so this is just so I know where to work, too."
As it stands, the frame is at least double the size of a real-life cow.
A wall of spanners leads you into a scrap metal haven full of alleyways and mountains of metal. Photo: RNZ/Leah Tebbutt
"I always find with sculptures, the bigger you go the better, cause they look more powerful and gruntier.
"And I might as well go big because even if it's half the size it's still just as much work."
Aside from making sure all the muscles and features of the cow are correct, Worsley must also make sure it looks like a classic Fresian cow by using stainless steel for the "white".
"When it's finished I get it sandblasted. Then I run water over it for five days and get it nice and rusty. But all the stainless won't rust.
"Then when it's finished rusting, I will put a slight dye on it which will be a bit of black, then the stainless will bring the white."
Piles of metal are needed on hand, with thousands of pieces used in every creation. Photo: RNZ/Leah Tebbutt
Worsley says he's known since childhood that he wanted to work with metal. It's just taken him a while to find out exactly how to do it.
Now that his dream is realised, he uses music to keep him inspired.
"I like the CDs. This is my main driver. It's what keeps me sane, motivated and also inspires me.
"Everything really comes from music, so when I'm designing I like it really loud and heavy. It's the only time my brain really settles and focuses and I can plan stuff really easily ... I just go into a different world."
Make's sense that a metalsmith is also a metalhead.
