With strings of whizzing incisors, a group of wood carvers delivered a delicate touch, wedging and shaping for five days — with tools that “can turn bone and flesh into a fine red mist in seconds” as one carver put it — a 14-foot-tall bear from what was once a local spruce tree.
Then they burned it.
Most of it, at least.
What’s left of the wooden ursid is still standing at the forefront of Ivan Hass’ property — the Ocean City Marketplace, which is crammed with dozens of wooden sculptures — along state Route 109 in Ocean City, about four miles north of Ocean Shores. Last year’s burnt bear stands nearby, a ghostly gray and black.
To burn such a piece of art after working hard to create it, said chainsaw carver Steve Backus, is justified by the tribute it provides and the tradition it maintains.
And wood, like ice, Backus said, is a “transitionary” medium, subject to natural forces.
That a bear is burned on this lot each February by Hass and a corresponding convention of wood carvers is a tradition that Hass and Backus began 15 years ago, a festival called “Burning Bear.” This year’s festival took place on Saturday, Feb. 11.
Many of the carvers were local artists, as well as carvers from around the country and the globe, who contributed to the sculpting of the bear before its ignition. Carvers also spent days on the property crafting a multitude of other creations.
At dusk, the ignition, and supplanting effort to sustain the burn, involved two torches, several cups of fire-boosting fluid, and a few leaf blowers. Hours before the burn, Hass and another carver slathered the bear in oil. It’s hard to burn a solid block of wood on its own, Hass said.
Flames consumed the bear’s feet and legs after a few minutes, then danced skyward, tickling the bear’s chin, detailing the bear’s eyes and mouth.
The flames drew audible admiration from, and provided warmth for, a large crowd surrounding the bear. It was the largest crowd the festival ever drew — up to 400 or 500 people at one point or another, Hass guessed. Prior to the bear burning, the festival runs an auction, where carvers who attend the event can sell their crafts. Hass said the auction raised $16,000 this year, some portion of which will be donated back to the community.
On the back of the bear, a plaque burned that carried names of four local carvers, who all recently passed away. The bear was a tribute to the carvers, Backus said a few hours before the burning as he raked loose scraps of wood toward the base of the bear, building fuel for the fire.
The chainsaw carving community is tight-knit, and stretches across the country and the globe Backus said. Carving in many cases is multi-generational — Backus himself is a second-generation carver. He used to work with the father of Charley Campbell, a younger wood carver who attended the event.
“Here on the West Coast, in Grays Harbor in particular, there’s a 40- to 50-year deep chainsaw carving history that goes along with it,” Backus said, comparing wood carvers at the time to both “cowboys on a rodeo circuit” and a “dysfunctional biker gang.”
Wood carving history is rich here, Backus said, because the medium is plentiful and playful. West Coast wood is softer and easier to work with than wood from other places — a “gold mine” for carvers, according to Chris Hubbart, who came to the festival from Illinois, where he mostly works with oak.
West Coast wood is to chainsaw carvers as Italian marble was to Michelangelo, Backus said.
“It takes me 10 times as long to do something in oak as it does in cedar,” Hubbart said, adding he prefers working in cool, moist ocean environments.
“A lot of carvers, in the trade that we do, they come out to a place like this and then they never go home, because this is paradise,” Hubbart said.
For Hass, the people who come to his property, both for the festival and to carve year round, make up the character of his lot.
“It’s amazing the people you meet,” Hass said. “Just having this (property) you meet so many people.”
Contact reporter Clayton Franke at 406-552-3917 or clayton.franke@thedailyworld.com.