Talented artists presented their carvings

“I don’t consider myself an artist,” the man replied. He was responding to my question asking if he had always been artistic.

We were attending the Artistry in Wood exhibition just outside of Wilmington, Ohio. I had stopped to admire a display of realistic carvings. The figures were intricately detailed. The first one that caught my eye was of a guy holding onto a floating log and reaching out to a drowning man. The scene was so expertly done that it could have been a photograph only reproduced in three dimensions.

His other offerings were equally detailed and realistic. I could almost see the whitecaps on the water around the drowning man even though there was not a drop of paint on any of his works. We chatted for a bit before I went on to the next booth.

As always, there were a few pieces that made me secretly think, “Mine are better than that.” They were far outnumbered by the ones that made me certain that no matter how many years I practiced, I could never be as good as their creators were.

We had met my friend, Barb, her husband and her brother for lunch before going into the show area. After a delicious lunch, and even more delicious conversation, we parted ways once we went through the doors. They had already gone down the first couple of rows before we arrived.

We soon passed them up as they linger longer than we do. I took the opportunity for more conversation before I ran to catch up to my husband.

At one point one of the Portland carvers stopped us and said we looked like we came from Portland. I said that was just an illusion. We were joined by several other members of the local carving club and we blocked part of the aisle as they showed off their purchases. Each of them carried bags full of future projects.

One of them asked if we had seen the angel. We said no and he led us on a chase to find it. When we finally stood in front of it we knew why he had wanted us to see it. It was at least three feet high and was magnificent. The face could have been done by Michelangelo. The wings were substantial yet delicate. Once again, I was amazed at the sheer talent some people have.

A giant wood spirit caught my eye. I could imagine it hanging in a fancy cabin deep in the woods. There were Santas at many of the tables. Ornaments abounded. Comic strip characters posed on corner tables. Ornate chip carved boxes were expensive and underpriced. Expert lathe operators offered bowls and vases that highlighted the beauty of wood. A smattering of furniture makers displayed their wares. The mandatory flute maker played haunting melodies. There was even a bicycle maker.

Encircling everything were the tables designed to entice the dreamers. Knives and gouges gleamed in their trays. Boxes of wood  in every size screamed, “Buy me!” Patterns, cutouts, and roughouts promised hours of entertainment. Safety equipment beckoned. All kinds of toys reached out and begged to go home with passersby.

I bought a few things and we hunted up Barb. We hugged and promised to get together when we had more time to talk. We parted reluctantly, us for home, Barb and family to a chili cook-off.

On the way home I was left to contemplate how an obviously talented individual could consider himself not an artist when he creates such beautiful works of art. I can only conclude that he doesn’t see what the rest of us do.