Revved-Up Rembrandts Carve Out Art

Imagine what priceless treasures the old masters would have created had they only had rip-roaring chain saws to wield:

The Sistine Chapel of Grinning Grizzly Bears? The statue of David and Bigfoot? The Last Trout Supper? …

One thing’s sure. Van Gogh could’ve easily whacked off an arm and some toes to go with that ear.

“Most of the time you’ll get it in the forehead,” says chain-saw artist John Schulz, 28, of his danger-filled profession.

Talk about suffering for your art. Chain-saw artisans worry most about kickback, which has nothing to do with fat-cat Democrats buying their way into the Lincoln bedroom.

This kind of kickback occurs when the saw’s upper tip strikes something, which sends the toothy chain growling at you like an insulted biker.

Not to worry. None of the dozen carvers I encountered at the Spokane Regional Chain Saw Carving Competition sported any hideous facial scars. The luckless few who eat their blades, adds Schulz, usually “count their blessings and quit.”

Schulz helped stage this noisy carve-a-thon as part of the annual Home & Yard Show at the Spokane Interstate Fairgrounds. Each participant is trying to turn a 10-foot tree hunk into a masterwork.

Among the sawyers is Don Etue, last summer’s West Coast champ, and Jessie Groeshen, the lone woman of the field. First place gets $500.

The sawdust continues to fly today, so you art collectors will want to scurry out to add a wooden leprechaun to your Picassos and Monets.

I watched the action Friday morning as these revved-up Rembrandts started their engines. Within minutes, the air was foul with gas fumes and teensy wood bits.

The constant “GREEEEEEEEEE …” sounded like we were in the middle of a go-kart race.

Some elaborate chain-saw carvings fall into the art category and command big money. Too much of it, however, is gimmicky roadside crapola that sells cheap or by the foot.

Art by the foot? So that’s how Michelangelo did it.

Jovial bears are the biggest movers. Bears with fish. Bears with welcome signs. Bears with funny hats. …

“Part of what I do may be art, part may be craft,” says Daniel Whited, 35, a mammoth-sized former stonecutter who sells a lot of cutesy woodland critters.

“Art is supposed to produce an emotional response. I see people laugh at my stuff. Well, that’s an emotional response, isn’t it?”

Hefting a long saw, Whited sliced off a chunk of log. He attached the ends to two shorter pieces.

We spectators could only wonder what vision of loveliness was about to emerge. Soon we had our answer: a bench on which to park Whited’s wide load. “I need to sit and think about what I’m making,” he explained with a chuckle.

Although I’ve never experienced kickback, I do have a painful chain-saw memory. Wanting to be a manly man, I once drove to a Coeur d’Alene hardware store and came back proudly with my very own Homelite.

I bought a chain saw. An electric chain saw, I’m embarrassed to admit.

In the back yard, I switched it on. There was no throaty grumble. My macho machine sounded like a blender.

“Better have a serious extension cord when you head for the hills,” hooted a neighbor.

“But it was on saaaale,” came my emasculated reply.

I only put my weenie saw to use once. The wooden stairwell in a former house was keeping our sofa from fitting snug against the wall.

Channeling the spirit of Paul Bunyan, I plugged in my mighty tool and promptly lopped off a 2-foot section of stairwell.

“Are you completely out of your mind?” hollered my completely aghast wife.

That ended my logging career. Until I met up with these artists and realized there’s money to be made.

Yup, I think it’s time to put on some flannel, drag the ol’ Homelite out of the basement and carve me a grinnin’ griz.

Timberrrrrr!

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo