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To understand the legend and mystery of Carrara marble, I was told to start with a climb. So, on a refreshing afternoon last spring, I donned a blue safety helmet, put on an orange vest, and hopped into a Land Rover with local guide Michael Bruni.
The two-way single lane road was poorly paved, and as the car climbed halfway up, it turned into a bumpy path strewn with rock fragments. The incline was very steep, and the curves of the mountain road were so sharp that Bruni had to stop the car before we turned. The gravel under the wheels shook the vehicle like a toy block.
Bruni told me that rocks would fall from the mountain during heavy rains or when goats climbed. He made exaggerated gestures while recounting past disasters.
“Put your hands back on the steering wheel…” I said.
Since ancient Roman times, the quarries atop the Apuan Alps in Tuscany have served artists and architects, producing more marble than anywhere else on Earth. © Caleb Stein
Eventually, we reached a flat viewing platform. To our right, a base carved into the mountainside housed water tanks, trucks, forklifts, and other heavy machinery. Workers wielded electric saws, cutting ten-foot-deep blocks from the steep mountain walls.
All I could hear was the piercing roar of machines drilling into the stone. Only when I gazed at the jagged peaks of the Apuan Alps, seeing them not covered in white snow but in white marble, could I appreciate the vivid beauty of this precious stone that has defined this region of Italy for over 2000 years.
In ancient Rome, slaves, freedmen, and prisoners extracted marble from these mountains using wedges and picks to build parts of Trajan’s Column and the Pantheon. Over the centuries, many great sculptors have been drawn here, from Bernini, Canova, and Rodin to Jean Arp and Henry Moore.
However, no figure is more closely associated with Carrara marble than Michelangelo, perhaps one of the greatest sculptors of all time.
Detail of Michelangelo’s “Pietà.” © Marmomac/Through Eternity Tours
In 1497, when Michelangelo was only 22 years old, he sought ideal white stone to create the “Pietà” (also known as “The Virgin Mary Mourning Christ”), his first marble masterpiece of the Renaissance, which remains in St. Peter’s Basilica. Bruni explained that Michelangelo spent a long time searching for the perfect block of marble on these mountains, especially the bright white “Statuario,” a type of marble that contains almost no silica and best captures the vitality and sheen of the human body.
Michelangelo maintained close relationships with quarry workers, cutters, and sculptors so that they could provide him with the best blocks of marble and offer precise guidance on the shape and size of the marble he wanted. He would then be satisfied, hammering and chiseling until the figure of the statue emerged.
I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.
—Michelangelo
Michelangelo’s spirit still hovers over the quarries here. You can hear the Italian master’s famous saying: “Every block of stone has a statue inside it, and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”
Born in England and now living in New York, photographer Caleb Stein has long been fascinated by that moment of discovery, which he defines as “the moment when the shape of a figure begins to emerge from a still recognizable block of marble.”
Homepage of Litix. © Litix
Earlier this year, Stein learned that an industrial area outside Carrara is home to a group of emerging marble sculptors, who are powerful automated robots belonging to a company called Litix (formerly known as Robotor).
Stein’s photography often emphasizes the sculptural quality of the human body; he traveled to Carrara to document the process of robots creating individual sculptures from start to finish. “I am interested in capturing intimate ‘portraits’ of robots at work,” he said, “and I want to express tenderness and emotion in the process, just as I would when photographing a person.”
Marble blocks waiting to be sculpted near Litix headquarters. Despite the belief that the Statuario deposits have been exhausted, sculptors still rave about Carrara marble. © Caleb Stein
The founders of Litix are Filippo Tincolini and Giacomo Massari, both sculptors in their 40s. For decades, sculptors in Carrara have been using small machines such as electric grinders, diamond-tipped band saws, and pneumatic chisels. Tincolini saw an opportunity to advance this process.
Filippo Tincolini and the sculpting robot he is operating. © Artistcloseup
“My father manufactured electrical parts for assembly lines, and while I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps, I learned a lot from him,” he said. The young Tincolini bought an automotive assembly line robot and had it work on stone. “At first, I didn’t know how to use it, but gradually, I figured out how it worked and how to improve it.”
Today, Tincolini, Massari, and their team of technicians and craftsmen create sculptures for artists, architects, and designers, selling their technology to clients around the world, including three sizes of Litix robots and proprietary software that uses digital robots. The software scans the 3D models of the artists, and the robots are automatically programmed to carve. They also utilize this technology for cultural preservation.
For example, a few years ago, they collaborated with the Institute for Digital Archaeology, based in Oxford, England, to create a 1/3 scale model of the Palmyra Arch in Syria, which was destroyed by ISIS militants in 2015.
The Palmyra Arch in Syria was destroyed by ISIS militants in 2015. © CC BY-SA 2.5
On April 19, 2016, then-Mayor of London Boris Johnson displayed a replica of the Palmyra Arch in Trafalgar Square. © Tolga Akmen/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images
The replica, made from Egyptian marble, stands 20 feet tall and took five weeks to create. It has toured several cities around the world, including London and Washington, D.C., and is now undergoing cleaning and maintenance in Carrara. They hope its final destination will be near the original site of Palmyra.
“The message we want to convey is that you can destroy it, but we have the technology to bring it back to life,” Tincolini told me.
While touring the area, I passed a warehouse and traditional workshop filled with marble sculptures and crosses; decades-old hand-carved works lined the edges of the floor, next to pieces created by robots, such as a massive sculpture of a baby wearing a blindfold carved from black marble.
Massari has his favorite line. “What used to take months or even years to complete can now be done in days,” he said, “machines can run around the clock. They don’t get sick, don’t sleep, and don’t take vacations.”
Canova’s neoclassical sculpture “Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss.” © Wikipedia
The robot replica of “Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss.” © Litix
One of his favorite stories is about Antonio Canova’s neoclassical masterpiece “Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss,” created in 1793 and now housed in the Louvre. “Canova took five years to complete it,” Massari said, “while making a copy, our machine took only 270 hours” — less than 12 days.
When I asked Massari if he thought Michelangelo, like other great sculptors, relied on apprentices to create his masterpieces and whether he would use robotic technology if it had existed at the time, Massari seemed somewhat displeased.
“Of course, he would use robots — one hundred percent! I tell those who question what we do: how did you get here, by walking, riding a horse, or driving? Cars shorten your travel time. Robots do the same. What algorithms do is what clamps used to do. I have time to enjoy beautiful sunsets because machines do all the hard work.”
The original marble block chosen for the sculpture, known as the “Flowered Slave,” weighs over 770 pounds (about 349 kilograms). When the robot is finished, the remaining sculpture weighs about 300 pounds (about 136 kilograms). © Caleb Stein
The robot completes large-scale milling and intricate carving by selecting the tools connected to its “arm.” © Caleb Stein
So far, Litix has created sculptures for artists including the late Iraqi-British architect Zaha Hadid, American artist Jeff Koons, and prominent representatives of the Italian “Arte Povera” movement, Giuseppe Penone.
Massari opened a massive sculpting studio door. “We are creating a masterpiece — crazy and huge,” he said, “a very special piece. Choosing the marble block is insane because finding a pure white marble block is very difficult. This is a famous sculptor. But we can’t reveal too much.”
The photographer attempts to capture “the moment when a human figure emerges from the calm, orderly lines carved by the robot.” © Caleb Stein
In the Litix studio, pressurized water sprays from the drill to cool the marble and prevent excessive dust. © Caleb Stein
Here, “Robot One” (Robotor One) — the company’s star robot, an 11-foot-long zinc alloy humanoid mechanical arm is busy milling marble by moving back and forth in an orderly manner. The drill on the mechanical arm spins so fast that I can barely see it turning, with pressurized water spraying from the arm, cooling the intricate patterns of the marble woman’s fluffy skirt being polished.
“The final sculpture will weigh about 4 tons,” Massari said, “the machine’s working time will be 18 months.”
By then, the final details will be executed by human sculptors — even Litix’s technical evangelists do not dare to claim that their machines can achieve the finest nuances of human craftsmanship.
In an adjacent studio, I found a group of such artists covered in marble dust, making final touches to several sculptures for a renowned British artist who wishes to remain anonymous.
The robot took four days to complete the milling work on the “Flowered Slave,” which the artist and Litix co-founder Tincolini referred to as a “way of liberating from excess material.” © Caleb Stein
Then, the craftsmen spent another 20 days finishing the piece by hand — “giving life to the sculpture,” Tincolini said, “you must know when to stop.” © Caleb Stein
“I come from an old traditional era when everything was handmade,” said Romina del Sarto, who works with hand tools. Her shoes and even her braids are covered in marble dust. Del Sarto has been working in her father’s sculpting workshop since she was 17.
“Everyone here makes a living from marble, and I am grateful for this work,” she said, “but sometimes it feels like Carrara is losing part of its history.”
One afternoon, I visited Enzo Pasquini, who found a vivid connection with that gradually disappearing past in the nearby town of Pietrasanta; he is now 83 years old and has only worked with hand tools since his apprenticeship over 70 years ago. In town, he is revered as a master who can carve the most exquisite details in stone.
His home sits on a small farm planted with olive, cherry, grape, vegetables, and roses. On the wall of his workshop hangs a yellowed photo of Michelangelo’s “Pietà,” which he told me has inspired him throughout most of his career.
“I always work from start to finish, from huge marble blocks to delicate sculptures,” he said, “breaking stone is a very, very labor-intensive job. I was strong when I was young, so I didn’t mind it.”
Tincolini modified a digital scan of Michelangelo’s “Dying Slave” with blooming flowers decorating the bust. © Caleb Stein
The technology of “Robot One” created a surface similar to a “topographical map,” which is then smoothed by craftsmen. © Caleb Stein
His tools include hammers, chisels, saws, files, and calipers of various sizes made of stainless steel. There are also tools he made himself, such as a hand drill named “the violin,” which requires two people to operate; one holds the handle of the pointed drill, while the other pulls a rope to drive the drill bit into the stone.
“We used to use this back in the days without electric drills!”
Pasquini mainly uses his skills to help others create marble sculptures. Among his sculpting partners was movie star Gina Lollobrigida, who became a respected sculptor and photographer after her film career ended and passed away in January 2023.
“I am not an artist,” Pasquini said, “I am just a craftsman.”But he also made his own sculptures, many of which are preserved in his house and studio — a delicate statue of a boy fishing; a baby with slender fingers; a set of playing cards.
He picked up a tool made from two pieces of wood and a vice held together with nails. “This is my robot,” he said, “I must do it the old way. But you have to keep up with the times. Fewer and fewer young people are willing to do hard physical labor. But machines won’t change the sensitivity of the work; you always need a sculptor.”
Text by Laine Sciolino
Translation by Fu Zhu and Shou Zhu
Proofreading by Tim
Original article at www.smithsonianmag.com/innovation/can-robots-replace-michelangelo-180983240/
This article is published under a Creative Commons license (BY-NC) by Fu Zhu and Shou Zhu on Leviathan
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Leviathan
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