Wood carver's class brings whittlers out of the woodwork
Will Broadhus
There are techniques for taking out large amounts of wood," Mark Schultz of Byfield explains. He and his son Nick are working quickly, making chips fly in the early stages of their carvings. Nick is shaping two cats which, when finished, he may paint to resemble those he owns, Minstrel and Shadow. Mark is carving a figure of Buddha. He has another Buddha at home and, though he doesn't necessarily subscribe to Buddhist practice, Mark finds the ancient wise man comforting to have around.
Most wood carving is slow work, and as they approach the fine features that bring figures to life, the need to be careful will slow Nick and Mark down. Justin Gordon, the master carver who has donated his time to this class for more than 10 years, in addition to giving the $5-per-session fees to the nonprofit Veasey Park where class is held, starts to review the basics of three-dimensional carving. Before he can finish, the six club members, known collectively as the Groveland Termites, cheerfully drown him out with a formula they have now memorized: "Front view! Side View!"
In other words, after tracing the outlines of a figure on the front and side, the carver's job is to connect, or reconcile the two views with a chisel. According to Gordon, whose Elwin Designs workshop is in Groveland, "Beginners are often afraid to take off too much wood, and I have to tell them to cut deeper, cut deeper." He has carved a "study stick" for group members to use. It looks like an 8-inch tall totem pole with eight carvings of a face, four on each side of the stick, progressing from basic outline to a high degree of detail. It allows carvers to see how deep those cuts should be.
Nancy Swiniarski of Dracut has been coming to class for two years. She started on her own by carving a cowboy boot from balsa wood, but came to the club for guidance. In addition to looking at the study stick, she reviews individual cuts with Gordon as she works on a small human figure. She says "I used to cross-stitch, but had an accident, and lost the feeling in my finger," making that hobby impossible. "But I wanted a creative outlet," she explains, and has found it carving. After the boot, she carved "dozens of golf balls" for class, and is progressing to figures and faces.
If two years seems like a long time for Georgetown's Rick Palardy to have worked on his Papa bear, even with a complicated Christmas tree tucked under its arm, Palardy points out that he's only had these Tuesday nights to work on it. The bears are class projects and Palardy has every intention, not only of finishing that figure, but of carving Mama Bear, with a Christmas wreath under her arm, to keep him company. In the meantime, he is chiseling out some links of chain, a fun project he got from a pattern book that gives him temporary respite from the bears.
Gordon is informal, giving advice when people seek it, assigning projects but allowing everyone to go at their own pace. His own work, in several mediums | "50 percent wood, 40 percent sand, and 10 percent snow" | by contrast can include such projects as the 55 tons of sand he sculpted into a 14-foot-tall castle in two weeks. This was commissioned for the Topsfield Fair. Works of this size, executed at this speed, are often made as entries in competitions, which he has entered from Hampton Beach to British Columbia, where there are prizes in the thousands of dollars.
In size and complexity, Gordon's sandcastles compare to those made with a plastic bucket and shovel as jet airplanes do with their folded-paper counterparts. And yet, it is because they have lost none of a child's fancy, but rather indulge it, that makes Gordon's work soar. Mammoth frogs at the base of ornate walls and towers hold them up, Atlas-like, and also imply that a princess who kissed them might produce the castle's ruler, rather than a mouthful of sand. One difference from the castles built by children is that Gordon's are rarely left for tides to pull down. The sand he sculpts is packed tightly in layers and, if built indoors | like in the Burlington Mall, where a sculpture Gordon built in 1997 still stands | will hold for as long as it isn't touched. Outdoor castles and sculptures will last a while when sprayed with a treatment that binds their surface.
Gordon's wood carvings are mostly commissions, take a lot longer than sandcastles, and fetch high prices. A 20-inch-high centaur firing its bow into the air took seven years. Gordon writes carving tips for the New England Wood Carvers newsletter, and encourages members of the group to enter pieces in competitions at the association's annual Spirit of Wood festivals. Stan Williams of Haverhill, who has attended the group for 10 years and usually carves Santa Claus figures -- has, in fact, carved a thousand of them -- recently won Spirit of Wood awards in several categories for a bagpiper he fashioned. He also donated one of his Santas, wearing a Red Sox shirt, to a church in Nashua, N.H., last year, where the figure fetched $275 in a silent auction.
Rather than follow a pattern or repeat a figure, Larry Woitkowski's approach is to find a piece of wood he likes and see how it inspires him. While most carvers use bass wood, which is relatively soft and has a good grain for carving, Woitkowski, also of Haverhill, likes driftwood. "I went up to Lake Superior and picked up buckets of it," he recalls. One small piece thrusts out at two points where Woitkowski chose to carve the head of a bear, then a feather. The rest of the piece remains untreated, as Woitkowski found it, with the implied effect that his carving finishes something nature suggested.
Anyone inspired to join the Termites can contact Gordon at Justin@Elwindesigns.com.
Professional wood carver Justin Gordon of Groveland works on a mantle clock during a wood carving class he teaches at Veasey Park in Groveland.Carl Russo/Staff Photo(Click for larger image)
