Ray Exworth dedicated six decades to creating an extensive and highly distinctive collection of sculptures, largely hidden from public view in a remote Cornish smallholding. Until his death in 2015 at age 84, the artist maintained a reclusive approach to his work, which was stored across seven studio sheds and several shipping containers, visible only to a select few. Even his wife, Susie, 92, was granted access on rare occasions. Exworth had a single major public exhibition at the Whitechapel Gallery in 1975 but remained otherwise unknown to the wider art world.

A new book by photographer Jem Southam, titled *Ray’s Sheds*, offers the first in-depth look at Exworth’s expansive and intricate sculptures. Southam estimates that fewer than 20 people have had the chance to enter the sheds and witness the full scope of Exworth’s creations. The volumes document the artist’s unique practice and explore broader questions about the nature and purpose of art when it is seldom, if ever, displayed publicly.

Exworth was born in 1939 in Ipswich, the eldest of five brothers. His father was a skilled sandcaster, with a talent for crafting toys during World War II. The family’s early life was marked by significant hardship: their home was destroyed by bombing raids twice. These experiences left a lasting impression on Exworth, whose sculptures often reference childhood memories and objects such as clowns, dolls, and the garden his father rebuilt after the war.

One of Exworth’s most ambitious works is a 60-foot by 30-foot floor sculpture replicating the family garden in intricate detail, featuring implements and plants—all crafted from beaten lead. Due to its size, this piece is archived separately in a container at the smallholding and is not featured in Southam’s book, which primarily focuses on other large-scale lead sculptures and studio environments.

Southam first met Exworth in the 1980s when the artist invited him to photograph his work. Upon entering the first shed, known as the “circus shed,” Southam was immediately struck by the complexity and scale of the assemblage. The shed was filled from floor to ceiling with sculptural figures and objects fashioned from unusual combinations of materials including plaster armatures, metal, wood, textiles, glass, and wax. Among the figures were ringmasters, performers, horses, and a juggler with suspended balls created by hammering and welding steel nails; the meticulous process of constructing the juggler’s balls reportedly took months.

Exworth devoted six days a week for ten years to this particular body of work, which he did not label as “installations” but rather as part of his sculptural environment. His work was informed by his employment at the Meteorological Office, which contributed to his disciplined approach to creativity and the technical precision evident in his sculptures.

Despite the rarity of public exposure during his lifetime, Exworth’s oeuvre is gaining recognition through Southam’s photography and the publication of *Ray’s Sheds*, offering valuable insight into the life and art of a largely overlooked figure in British sculpture.