Hmm, do bankers and doctors and automobile mechanics feel the panic of passing time and the need to make a name for themselves in the way artists do? Geez, reading this back-to-back with Seconds and alongside Hausfrau, I'm starting to get a little down. Existential crisis much? I'm clearly not doing enough with my life. So, Scott McCloud can explain comics like nobody's business. I was excited to read his fictional work here and wasn't surprised that The Sculptor also deals with the process of creation -- though more through a lens of sustaining creativity, being memorable and unique, and balancing creative endeavors and personal relationships. The angsty, self-loathing artist with naive relationship understanding falling in love reminded me heaps of Blankets but with a whole deal-with-the-devil spin. My biggest peeve with it was disliking David Smith's sculptures(Everyone's a critic, sigh) though McCloud's imagery continues to be crisp, clear, and at times stunning (especially the city views -- that calendar/sidewalk page was gorgeous!) The story tugs all the tear-jerk heartstrings about death and family and bad decisions. Manipulative, but enjoyable. Oh, the police officer bit is straight up ready for TV! Oh, and the afterword brings the tears. Sigh. I should go make something. Maybe a baby.