Colorado sculptor proves his mettle with large-scale art

A self-taught artist transforms reclaimed steel into towering, story-driven figures that are part mythology, part mountain memory

By Rebecca Toy

At the Westin Riverfront Resort in Vail, a towering elk rises out of steel – muscle taut, head lifted, caught somewhere between stillness and motion. It feels less like a sculpture than a moment interrupted. You half expect it to exhale.

Or maybe it belongs somewhere older, stranger, alongside the creatures of Greek myth, where gods punish hubris and mortals transform mid-story. In Nick LoFaro’s world, that line between the natural and the mythical is intentionally blurred. His figures, whether an imposing elk, a striking Medusa or a winged Luna Mothra “fairy,” don’t simply exist. Their size, details and downright maximalism evoke imagination.

LoFaro’s pieces are buzzy successes across the state, capturing both the state’s elemental awe and groundedness. And like many Colorado artists, his own path has been far from linear, stacked with strata of influence. Long before he picked up a welding torch, LoFaro was writing stories, reading mythology, drawing comic books, and inventing characters. Today, he channels that same instinct into steel, creating figures that feel less like objects and more like heroes.

Coloradan Folk Art with Ancient Inspiration 

LoFaro’s own story is quintessentially Coloradan. Born in Vail and now living and working in Minturn, he grew up surrounded by the mountains’ scale and drama. That sense of awe, of being dwarfed, of looking up until your neck aches, still defines his work.

His mother was a teacher and artist, his father a mechanic and naturalist: the combination led to LoFaro’s self-reported ADD brain exploring all the details of nature and using those to fuel his creations. Childhood dreams of being a character creator shifted to a degree in writing and literature — he even wrote a kids’ book with his mom. He now teaches his art to middle schoolers, sparking engagement in even the most hesitant. And, like many across the state, LoFaro also works in hospitality, leading the bar at the same hotel where his elk stands. 

For years, his primary medium and first love was clay. He experimented with plaster, wood, and even animal bone, drawn to the malleability. But around 28, after a particular purge of broken pieces and inspired by his brother’s work in furniture, LoFaro began experimenting with welding. Steel offered a sense that the work could outlast him. But more than that, it connected him to something elemental.

“Iron is from the earth, even coursing in our blood,” he says. “It never decomposes, just moves into different forms.”

Using reclaimed steel, discarded tools and abandoned materials, LoFaro builds sculptures that feel both ancient and newly alive. There’s a folk-art quality to the process, with ancient mythology infused in the inspiration. LoFaro points to Greek myths in particular, not for their grandeur, but for their reflection of humanity’s flaws.

“The gods were kind of horrible,” he says, laughing, before describing the tales of jealous gods and aspiring mortals. “Childish and cruel. But there are lessons in there about human nature.”

LoFaro takes those sometimes harsh lessons, as well as the animals that roam the mountains, and re-centers narratives. He gives every creation love, creating imposing Hulks with the affable Bruce Banner living within. 

“I really love the idea of being a character creator,” he says. “Each piece is its own little superhero.”

How Iron Comes to Life

“The most important part of any sculpture is the silhouette,” he says. It’s a lesson he carries into every piece: that a figure should be recognizable, compelling, alive even in outline.

Up close, LoFaro’s sculptures reveal themselves as intricate assemblages of meaning. Nothing is arbitrary.

Take Medusa. We know her as a snake-haired monster, turning men to stone with a look. Yet, LoFaro highlights her traumatic origin story, a victim of the gods’ assaults and vanity. LoFaro cheekily gave the historic villain a comeback: ligaments made from nutcrackers, an antique household iron as a chest plate, transforming domestic labor into defiant protection. The piece isn’t just a figure — it’s an argument, a reinterpretation.

LoFaro’s pieces also have a look — literally. He embeds marbles or LEDs into his sculptures. The effect is subtle but powerful, suggesting something like a spirit — an inner life flickering beneath the surface.

In addition to the elk, or Royal the Forest King, his works are scattered across Colorado. The Luna Mothra at Bellvue’s Mishawaka Amphitheater is one of the most accessible, but pieces like the Starfox on a corner in Avon also pop up, part street art, part gallery for sale.

Perhaps it’s Hephaestus, the Greek god of the forge and blacksmiths, that drives LoFaro. The art is physical work that takes a toll on his body: the elk required 20 hours a week for a year, hours put in outside of his other job. Yet the ideas and ultimately the commissions keep coming. 

“This is not a hobby,” he says, reflecting the experience of all artists. “This is who you are.”

Check out more of his work at lofarometalarts.com.