Alongside music, stone sculpture is the most popular art form in Zimbabwe. Different types can be seen at local markets, on roadsides and in galleries, homes, gardens and public spaces. It's not unusual to see sculptors working throughout the country in hired gardens or free of charge on the property of someone who cares about their art. The sound of hammers on stone greets you at a sculpture yard. Serpentine stone, which ranges from green to black and has various marbled effects and marks, has its own personality, the type selected depending on the sculptor's preference for hard or soft stone. Watching a sculptor transform the stone into a figurative or abstract image can be awe-inspiring. Most captivating are the final stages, when the piece is waxed and finished.

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The movement started in the late 1950s when Frank McEwan, the first director of the National Gallery of (then) Rhodesia, sold the work of a sculptor called Joram Mariga who had brought a jug, a bowl and a mug carved from green soapstone to the gallery. McEwan encouraged Mariga and his friends, and the resultant movement's commercial success now has many young people clamouring to join. What was initially a male domain has today enticed numerous women who have established themselves professionally, such as Colleen Madamombe and Agnes Nyanhongo. The sculptures are created and influenced by personal experience, traditional belief, Zimbabwean landscapes and wildlife, mythology and folk tales or a visionary encounter. Although new artists have introduced fresh trends, Doreen Sibanda observes at www.africancolours.com (a website dedicated to African art) that "the highs and lows of the movement have always centred on a small number of artists who have approached the medium with originality and new directions. It is upon the shoulders of these few men, including Henry Munyaradzi, John Takawira, Bernard Matemera, Nicholas Mukomberanwa and Tapfuma Gutsa, that most of the success of the movement actually lies."

Doreen explains that the movement lends itself to large-scale imitation, as artists mainly acquire their skill from working alongside a master and find it hard to adjust to original forms and expressions. It's therefore quite normal to see the influence of a small handful of artists replicated repeatedly by most stone carvers, with only occasional attempts to introduce individual elements.

Sadly, the issue of fakes is well entrenched in Zimbabwean sculpture. Tapfuma Gutsa, a first-generation sculptor and installation artist, believes that artists may be partly responsible because, as Zimbabwe's economic situation worsens, many are producing sculptures purely for economic reasons. "There are too many sculptures around," he says. "Teaching methods are not encouraging the sculptors to think about the works they are producing, so young sculptors are becoming the right hand of their teachers. When students leave these studios they churn out sculptures similar to those of their masters." Gutsa observes that when an established sculptor is successful, a student will knowingly produce similar work, leading to greed among sculptors and dealers, who often buy copied work from an apprentice to resell as that of a master. Fortunately, Gutsa's own work is difficult to replicate, so he hasn't experienced direct forgery. But he notes a fixed style of sculpture emerging, which is easy to copy. "In our greed, we've created little factories and factory workers who are producing clones of yesteryear's art. A sculptor has to think and move forward. Many of today's young sculptors are retaining a certain style from the past. Sculptors need to start talking about forgeries and to be more critical."

Dominic Benhura, an internationally renowned second-generation sculptor, has been seriously affected. Noted for its individual style and "movement", his work comprises large, rugged, semi-abstract pieces which contain figurative, animalistic and organic elements, reflecting influences ranging from social concerns such as AIDS to flowers, children playing and energetic dancers. His two Harare studios hold workshops for both young and established sculptors (who are often subsequently invited to exhibit abroad) and have attracted streams of purchasers. Benhura was surprised to hear that a collection of his "works" was being shown in Frankfurt. A Zimbabwean dealer had paid young sculptors to make forgeries of seven pieces in a similar style to his, each bearing a copy of his signature. The case is the first of its kind to go through Zimbabwe's Courts, but the judicial system does not seem to take it seriously, repeatedly postponing the trial. Meanwhile Benhura has established trademarks in America and Europe, where most of his works are sold. The National Arts Council of Zimbabwe supports him and is lobbying for the updating of the Copyright Act.

Gutsa concurs: "Legally, there is no effective mechanism to counteract forged sculptures. We have to close the loopholes in Zimbabwe. And those teaching or hiring apprentices have to make their students question the type of work they are producing." There are also calls for art fair attendance by galleries and dealers to be licensed, and for some kind of certification mechanism to help buyers know their product is authentic. Artists, buyers, dealers and anyone interested in the development of Shona sculpture should be aware that fraud is a problem that threatens the future of the genre.