Behind The Welding Mask
Behind the Mask
By Ben Lee – Metal Sculptor, Wiltshire
Every artist has a story, and mine begins long before the welding torch ever touched metal. It starts in the fields and woodland of a quiet Gloucestershire village, where mud-stained boots, treehouse kingdoms, and long summer days built the foundation of my imagination.
I was raised in Washpool, Horsley—a tiny village tucked away in the cotswolds—alongside my mum, dad, and older brother Cory. It was the kind of childhood people write novels about. We spent our days roaming freely, building dens, racing through woodlands, and creating adventures out of nothing. It was raw, joyful freedom. But on rainy days, the outdoors turned inward. I’d sit and draw, paint or disappear into my dad’s shed for hours—an almost magical,safe place where he built clocks by hand.
That shed was more than a workshop. It was a place filled with tools, loud machines,ticking mechanisms, and a quiet kind of focus that I didn’t yet understand. I watched him shape metal, wood, and glass into something meaningful, and without realizing it, he was shaping me too.
From Hooves to Horseshoes
My path didn’t begin with metal—it began with horses. At 12, I discovered the equestrian world and was instantly hooked. Horses weren’t just animals; they were partners, teachers, and an escape. I went to school in Tetbury, but my education truly began when I left the classroom behind and started working full time at Barton End Stables for an incredible mentor, Abi Blackwell.
That first job became a launchpad. Thanks to Abi and a handful of others who shaped my early career—Phillipe, Mary, and Michelle among them—I earned my BHS equestrian qualifications quickly. More importantly, I learned on the job. The equestrian world gave me structure, discipline, and a deep respect for hard work. I spent years in that world, competing, coaching, training—it felt like home.
But sometimes, life pulls you off a familiar track and drops you somewhere completely unexpected.
Loss, Fire, and Finding My Way
In 2016, everything changed. I lost my father to suicide—an experience so deeply personal and painful that words barely do it justice. He wasn’t just my dad. He was my best friend, my guide, the steady voice in a noisy world.
Grief is a strange thing. It burns, it numbs, it changes you. In my case, it also lit a spark.
I found myself back in the shed—his sacred place, his energy somehow still present. I started welding—not with any grand plan, but because I needed something. I borrowed a pile of horseshoes from my farrier and used the oldest, rustiest welder you can imagine to fuse them together. At first, it was just about doing, not thinking. Then I stepped back and saw something taking shape: the rough outline of a horse’s head.
I took a photo. Shared it on Facebook. Within thirty minutes, someone wanted to buy it. That tiny moment—that flicker of recognition—changed everything.
Self-Taught, Soul-Fueled
That was the beginning of my metal art journey. I didn’t go to art school. I wasn’t trained in sculpture or welding. Everything I know, I’ve taught myself through long nights, frustration, experimentation, and a stubborn belief that I could make it work.
Each piece I create is infused with personal meaning. The weight of grief. The joy of fatherhood. The discipline of horses. The spirit of adventure. Art became my therapy—a space where I could channel emotion into creation, and where I could reconnect with my dad in a way words never could.
In 2019, another major chapter began. I joined Tom Faulkner Furniture—an elite, bespoke metal design company that produces high-end, beautifully made furniture. Working with Tom and his team has been a gift. It’s sharpened my technique, expanded my understanding of form and function, and challenged me to grow in ways I never expected. Today, I serve as Workshop Foreman, balancing my own art business alongside a demanding and inspiring career.
Behind the Smile
While my childhood was filled with freedom and creativity, school was a very different story. From a young age, I was bullied—relentlessly. For how I looked, for being different, for being creative. It chipped away at my confidence and left scars that don’t show on the outside. My mental health began to suffer at just 16, and for years, I carried that quiet weight.
But in the depths of those struggles, I found something powerful: art. Drawing, painting, eventually sculpting—it became my voice when I couldn’t find words. Creating wasn’t just a way to express myself. It was survival. Every time I step into the workshop, I’m reminded of that younger version of myself. The one who was told he’d never be good enough. I create for him. I create to prove that bullies don’t win. That you can be whoever you choose to be and more important it makes me happy.
And if you’re reading this and you’ve felt that pain—you’re not alone. You can rise. You can create. You can heal.
Love, Family, and Future Dreams
In 2021, I married Lizzie—my wife, my creative sounding board, and the most visionary person I know. She works in marketing, has an incredible eye for design, and is always pushing me to dream bigger and bolder. We bounce ideas off each other constantly, and some of my favorite pieces wouldn’t exist without her perspective.
Then came 2022—the year I became a father. Archie’s arrival changed everything again. Being a dad is something I’ve always wanted, and now that I am one, every sculpture I create carries a new kind of legacy. I often say: If I can be half the father mine was, I’ll be doing okay. I dream of the day Archie joins me in the workshop, just like I did with my dad—tiny hands learning, exploring, building.
Highlights, Milestones & Meaning
The journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s been filled with moments I’ll never forget.
Cheltenham Racecourse — Having one of my racehorse sculptures permanently displayed at such a historic and meaningful venue is a dream come true.
ITV’s Love Your Weekend with Alan Titchmarsh — Sharing my story and work with a national audience was humbling and electrifying. I’d love to do more of that—talking about art, mental health, and the importance of creative expression.
Every client reaction — The real magic happens when someone sees their sculpture for the first time—especially when it’s based on a beloved pet or personal inspiration. Those reactions—the tears, the smiles, the silence—are what drive me.
What’s Next?
My ultimate goal is to take my art full-time. I want to continue growing, traveling, and sharing my work with people all over the world. But more than that, I want to use my platform to talk openly about mental health, creativity, and resilience. If you're reading this and you've struggled—whether with bullying, grief, or self-doubt—I want you to know: your story matters. You can create something powerful from your pain. You can prove the world wrong. You can find your fire.
I did. And every time I step into the workshop, I stoke it.
This is who I am. A sculptor. A dad. A dreamer. A man who builds meaning from metal.
This is the truth that lives behind the mask.
