"So," said the interviewer, "the question we're required to ask of any great artist." He and the subject laughed. "Where do you get your ideas?"

"I'm not sure I qualify as a great artist," Mrs. Moberly said from her antique couch. "But humility aside, I have to go with the classic standby. I look at the marble," she said, and her eyes grew a little distant, "and I see something in it that wants to get out."

Behind her, workers packed marble statues in cushioned boxes. All were of monstrous creatures, from palm size to larger than a bear, unearthly things that disturbed audiences the world over. More than one critic had complimented Moberly's art while complaining of nightmares after her shows.

"You might be the only person who sees them before you're finished," said her interviewer. "So, you let them out?"

"Oh no," she said. "I always stop just before that point. I hate to imagine what would happen if I actually let them out."

The sound of marble shattering on the ground made the interviewer jump, but Mrs. Moberly calmly reached under the couch. She came up with a shotgun and racked it as the workers started screaming.