An Old and Honorable Art

An Old & Honorable Art

He cradles the wood in his hand, deftly stroking it with his knife - emotionally at one with the emerging figure. A cigarette, lit and forgotten, burns itself out in the ashtray. He doesn't miss it.

A dachshund, with throaty growl, chases birds as a breeze stirs the backyard shrubbery in the late afternoon sunlight. He doesn't notice.

A friend tiptoes in and stands on the patio near him, watching as he carefully releases the shape of a bird from the shapeless mass of linden. Until she says his name, he is oblivious to her presence.

He is Wally Maarsingh, Mesa resident, life sciences teacher at Mesa Community College and founder of the woodcarving association, Southwestern Artists in Wood.

But whatever his other roles, he is first of all a woodcarver, most content when he is alone with his art his sentiments expressed by an earlier craftsman: "All I need to live are my tools and myself."

Those were probably the feelings, too, of the carver who created the life-sized statue of a man believed to be the oldest woodcarving in existence. Carved 5000 years ago by an Egyptian, the skillfully done figure proves woodcarving important in the early development of Egyptian arts as it was in other nations, including India, China, Japan, Greece and Rome.

In the Middle Ages woodcarvings decorated churches and cathedrals in Scandinavia, France, Germany, England and Italy. During the 18th century, Spaniards made wooden statutes of religious figures, called bultos, but after 1850, Roman Catholic reformers considered them crude and unsuitable and the faithful discarded them.

American colonists built their country with wood and woodcarving. They used it to bridge rivers, shape ships and wagons, fashion tools, toys, fiddles, gunstocks, candlestands, peg legs, weather cocks and decoys of game birds. Woodcarvings decorated furniture, buildings, carrousels and ships.

With the disappearance of oaken ships, however, went the grand wooden figureheads of mythological characters, eagles and flowing-robed maidens as did the carved billetheads and sternboards. Woodcarvers moved from ship to shore where they created kitchen utensils, shop figures and carrousels.

The turn of the century was the golden age for the carrousel, when craftsmen proudly handcarved chariots and snorting horses so kids could chase the brass ring. But as early as 1903, carving machines heralded the end of hand-crafted carrousels and spun in the repetition of the plastic age.

Even shop signs, featuring such things as a finely-carved mortar and pestle for a druggist or a hanging ham for a butcher, were replaced by printed or neon signs. And the once familiar cigar store Indian, which signaled "A smoke shop here," became only a memory kept alive by such songs as Hank Williams' "Kalijah."

The Indians continued to carve ceremonial masks, small charms and kachina dolls, but most craftsmen surrendered their minds and hands to Imagination, whimsey, sensitivity all are expressed in the art of the woodcarver. Clockwise, below, are pieces by Arizonans Hazel Finell, Larry Favorite and Don Ely.

'Arizona in wood' is the title of this multi-artist diorama presented to the State of Arizona by the Southwestern Artists in Wood. The display can be seen on the mezzanine of the new state capitol building in Phoenix. Herb and Dorothy McLaughlin in the control of machines.

In desperation, some turned back to woodcarving not because of financial need, but because of another necessity a longing to create. And they found woodcarving a demanding mistress.

"When I start something, I can't wait until I get it done," said Maarsingh, who creates realistic painted carvings of wildlife. "I go to school, get my work done, but I can't wait to get back to carving.

"Once I'm at it, I'll get so intent, I'll sit for two hours working and not really realize it. My back will hurt, my legs will go to sleep and I'll not be aware of it. At night I'll wake up with ideas of what I want to do next."

Maarsingh started carving as an adult after he found carvings would sell better than his paintings of wildlife. Others in the woodcarvers group began whittling as children. But whenever they started, they share a love for the character of wood, describing it in emotional, worshipful terms such as "vital," "magnetic," "ancient," "enduring," "warm," "with a compelling spirit" that makes the viewer or craftsman long to touch and know it.

"There's a special feel about wood," said Maarsingh. "People will come in and pick up one of my carvings and you can see them they're fondling it."

"There's a gut satisfaction in the thrust of a sharp knife through a piece of bass wood that cannot be matched by modeling clay or chiseling stone," said Van Smith, who creates Western figures and jewelry, when he's not teaching electronic engineering at Mesa Community College. Hazel Finnell, Phoenix real estate saleswoman, who sculpts free from figures in ironwood, shares Smith's feelings. She gave up working in stone when she realized the ironwood she was bringing in from the desert was prettier.

"I look for interesting shapes and dead woodwood with no sap in it, that's been dead about 50 years or more," she said. "The heart wood is beautiful. But at first it is such a dirty, dirty wood. It smells bad when you cut into it and its dust is toxic. I wear a mask to keep from inhaling it and sometimes goggles to protect my eyes.

"Before I begin I spend a lot of time thinking about it. I do a sketch or a model in clay, so I'm pretty sure when I start. But when I'm doing the heavy work with heavy sculptor's chisels, I have to be very careful or it will bruise the wood. You may not see it then, but the bruises will show up later."

"Woodcarving is not generally a put and take medium such as clay or wax, so repair or change is difficult," said Phoenix artist Cecil Wakefield. But he agrees with the others that the irreparable nature of wood is part of its appeal. The piece of wood is in control the carver follows its dictates or fails - even to the figure he produces from it.

"I had a piece of wood around a year or more until I saw a polar bear in it," said Mrs. Finnell, who, like other carvers speaks in Michelangelo terms of cutting away the wood to release the figure already there. The secret is finding that figure which can be shaped.

Said Forrest Wellington, a Scottsdale veterinarian who carves relief Western scenes and faces: "It's as though a branch or a stump or piece of driftwood or gnurl were placed there just to tease and release my imagination."

Mrs. Finnell admits to sometimes searching for a piece that will fit something she has in mind, but usually carves what the shape and grain of the wood suggest. One of her favorite carvings is a 50 pound ironwood dancer with rough portions of the wood edging her skirt.

"I called her 'Dancing Girl' as soon as I saw her," said Mrs. Finnell.

Maarsingh says he's never started a carving that "I don't feel it will be no good when I get through. I almost get sick to my stomach, thinking, 'I hate this.' Then I'll keep at it. I'll begin to feel better and it'll turn out all right."

Mrs. Finnell shares his involvement with the work, but not his fear.

"I get very excited when I first cut into a new piece of wood," she said. "Then I work and I forget about time and everything else I exhaust myself, but I can't wait to get it to the shape I want it to be. I start about 6 in the evening and plan to stop at 10 and it's 1 or 2 a.m. before I know it.

"I'm not as excited when it's all done probably because there is no challenge left or maybe because at that point I'm already thinking about doing something else."

"The most satisfying part," she concluded, caressing her dancing girl, "is when it begins to become the shape that I know is in there."