Sculptor Matt Byrd works with stone through direct carving, shaping each piece by hand from found granite into interlocking forms defined by proportion and balance. Trained as a stone mason under Brooks Burleson, he carries that foundation into a sculptural practice that keeps process visible, from chisel marks to raw edges left intact.
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His recent exhibition Found Time, presented by ZAROLAT, brought together thirteen works shown for the first time, including freestanding and wall-mounted pieces carved in stone and built in clay. The works reflect his approach to material and process, where texture, surface, and form record the act of carving. Stone operates as both structure and subject, with each piece retaining evidence of its making as well as the raw condition of the material itself.
Time remains central to Byrd’s work. Through carving, he engages with stone as a material that holds history, while his intervention introduces a new layer that remains visible within the form. His work has been featured in publications including Sight Unseen, Surface, Dwell, AD Germany, AD India, Dezeen, and Luxe. He has also completed residencies at Centro Internazionale di Scultura in Peccia, Switzerland, and Shiro Oni Studio in Onishi, Japan.
During Found Time at ZAROLAT, DSCENE editor Ana Markovic sat down with Matt Byrd to discuss his path from stone masonry to sculpture, his approach to carving, and his recent work developed during his time in Japan.
How did art first enter your life, and when did you realize you wanted to pursue it seriously?
Art entered my life at a very young age. My parents were very supportive of the arts. It actually fell in and out of my life for a long time. There were big periods where I resented it, or even did stuff secretly. When I started working as a stonemason at 19, I knew I would be doing something in the stone field for the rest of my life. For a while I was doing masonry and some stone carving on the side, but in 2021 I kinda had to choose one, and I chose diving head first into sculpture. I even told my last client that it would be my last job as a stonemason.
Carving can be a nightmare. You gotta go through the ringer with it. You gotta hurt. You gotta power through.
You trained as a stone mason before fully committing to sculpture. At what point did technical skill begin to shift into artistic expression, and how much of the mason still remains in the sculptor?
Thankfully I worked for an amazing stonemason named Brooks Burleson. He’s a great artist and craftsman himself, and always has had a bunch of flavor in his work. Sometimes my problem as a stonemason was that I would focus on sections of work for too long. I would be obsessed with how stones fit together and their bond. I decided one day to let myself obsess more and just started carving. All of the mason is still in me. Always will be.
Your tools remain intentionally simple. How does working this way shape your pace, your decisions, and your relationship to the stone?
With the right tools you can do anything pretty easily. I don’t really want the right tools.
I have proper tools, but I think if I had access to all the fancy stuff my work would suffer. Carving can be a nightmare. You gotta go through the ringer with it. You gotta hurt. You gotta power through.
You often work with salvaged and found stone gathered from unexpected places. How does the act of finding the material shape the direction of a sculpture?
When dealing with salvaged stone. Sometimes you gotta take what you can get. It’s not always gonna be the exact color and size I want, so you have to adapt your idea to the piece available. More times than not it works out in your favor. If the stone was perfect from the jump, it wouldn’t be that fun! I’d have six thousand sculptures by now if that was the case.
Human touch will never be obsolete. All those robot arms that carve stone now will never replace the human touch.
In Found Time, you describe time almost as a physical presence within the stone. When you carve, do you feel you are uncovering something or interrupting it? How do you balance the stone’s existing history with your own intervention?
It depends. If it is a stone that I get like an old cornerstone or maybe some curbing – a lot of the time those will have tons of hand chisel work already done to them. In that instance, I wanna respect the hard work that’s been done to it before and not waste it. The stone becomes unrecognizable from how I found it, but I take extra care to make sure the work done to it before me was respected and appreciated. When it comes to more natural edged things like boulders, I like to leave a little bit of nature’s work to be seen.
The traces of your carving process remain deliberately visible. What do you hope a viewer understands when they encounter those marks?
That the human touch will never be obsolete. All those robot arms that carve stone now will never replace the human touch. That stuff is so corny. It has no soul, and you can’t convince me otherwise. It goes back to what I was saying earlier. It helps for it to be hard. We need human error, even if no one can see the error.
I like to make sculptures, and if you can sit on it, or turn it on, that’s awesome.
The ceramic works in the exhibition mark a departure from your usual stone practice. What did that transition reveal about you as a maker, and what did clay allow you to explore that stone cannot?
It was truly a “when in Rome” situation. My mom had me in some ceramics classes as a kid and my partner does ceramics as well, so I’ve always been around it. I was in Japan for a residency last year at Shiro Oni, and I was standing there carving one day. I just thought, “What am I doing? I could just do this at home.” I then went into the pottery studio there and I submerged myself in what they had to offer. It was really fun. I allow myself to be a little looser with ceramics. It was nice to be able to work without ear, eye, and lung protection. Just sitting there barefoot.
Works like Sardine introduce a more literal reference, which you rarely pursue. What prompted that shift, and how does your approach to figuration differ from abstraction?
It doesn’t really change at all. Even Sardine is a pretty big stretch to say it looks like a sardine tin. As long as it looks cohesive with my work in the big picture, then I’m okay with it.
I like to leave a little bit of nature’s work to be seen.
Some works, such as Head Stool, exist between sculpture and functional object. What draws you to that tension between use and observation? Do you see utility as a way to bring sculpture into everyday life?
I’m not really drawn to the tension at all. I’ve carved lots of furniture and lighting, but most of which can’t be found on the internet. I like to make sculptures, and if you can sit on it, or turn it on, that’s awesome.
Several works in the exhibition emerge from a single block of stone and reflect a more reduced approach. What led you toward this level of simplification, and what did that reduction demand from you?
I was really tired of making the super intricate puzzle-esque pieces. I don’t feel like it represents where I’m at with carving. I will go back to it at some point though. It was a fun adventure making single piece sculptures. It was almost easier for me to feel satisfied with them.
Sometimes you gotta take what you can get. It’s not always the exact color or size, so you have to adapt your idea to the piece available
How has your relationship with time evolved through working with stone, a material that exists on a scale far beyond human life?
Honestly, I make work to last long after I’m gone. That is why I’m extremely particular about what work goes out and what gets seen and where. I’m just at the beginning of its life as a sculpture.
If you could place one of your sculptures anywhere permanently, without limitation, where would it live?
I gotta say The Noguchi Museum!
Found Time was presented at ZAROLAT, an architecture studio and collectible design gallery based at 140 Plymouth Street in Brooklyn’s DUMBO neighborhood. The space brings together artists, designers, and makers working across disciplines, with a focus on material, process, and the act of making. Through its exhibition program, ZAROLAT presents works that engage directly with construction, surface, and form, maintaining a close connection between studio practice and gallery context.
For more of Matt Byrd’s work, visit mattbyrdsculpture.com and follow @byrd.stone
