Beauty can be carved from plain wood

That was interesting. I attended a woodcarving show and exhibition this past Saturday. It was the first time I had been to one of these shows as an exhibitor. I shared a table with the president of our local carving club. Two of the other club members had tables on either side of us.
I wanted to sell one or perhaps two of my carvings to pay for my half of the table. It was not to be. My table-mate sold one wood spirit. The guys on either side of us sold as much as I did, namely, nothing.
I am usually intimidated by the sheer talent displayed by other crafts people. This time was no exception. There were carvings of giant Vikings, a detailed blue heron as tall as me, tiny violins less than an inch long and everything in between.
An older man with a charming English accent had shelves full of intricate wooden vases. When I admired them, he told me they were made of plywood. I never would have guessed that such a humble material could be used to produce something so beautiful.
A few booths down was a jolly guy who stood behind a table full of brainteasers. Whenever we picked one up, he challenged us to figure it out. We never could do it. Even after he gave us a hint, the solution stayed out of reach. It was only after he told us the secret and demonstrated it several times, that we got the toy to work. My friend bought one of the simpler toys for himself and another for his grandchildren.
There were jewelry makers who had spent countless hours making necklaces, earrings and other jewelry out of slivers of material. There were delicate, cutout wooden gems, teensy paintings, and some featuring several types and colors of wood. One guy even made necklaces out of countertop samples. They were all beautiful.
The artists were every shape, size and age. Children as young as my granddaughter were carvers. Others were older than my mother. Products ranged from primitive pieces to those that can only be called fine art. Subject matter ranged from whimsical, serious, or accurate to caricatures. There were lots of wooden cowboys but few wooden Indians. Each and every display had its own unique character.
What I learned from this experience is that even the humblest of materials can be used to create a thing of beauty. I learned that talent can be packaged in many forms.
People you would pass on the street and silently wonder if they were homeless or perhaps dangerous, created objects of wonder. They were all more than willing to share their methods with anyone who took the time to listen. Everybody had a story and they were eager to tell it.
I also learned that even though most of the people there produced beautiful artwork far beyond my own abilities, my own offerings also had value. It didn’t matter that I didn’t sell anything. Neither did other people. Some of my pieces looked better than similar ones at other tables. Others of mine came up short. I still enjoy making something out of the bones of dead trees.
Talking to the people at the show, be they exhibitors or visitors, illustrated that we are more alike than we are different. Whatever our passion, we are more than willing to share it with anyone who will listen. We are always looking for people we can gather into our circle. We all say, “This makes me happy. Come join me and you can be happy, too.”
It was an interesting way to spend a Saturday. I’m glad I went.