The Golden Eagle: A Behind-the-Scenes Look at the Art of Bird Carving

By Floyd Scholz

Look over the shoulder of a world-renowned bird carver as he creates his most challenging piece

A behind-the-scenes look at how Floyd Scholz creates one of his most ambitious pieces--a life-size golden eagle in flight. Beautiful color photos document the carving's progression from a block of wood to a finished work of art. Accompanying text offers how-to information as well as Scholz's thoughts as he works on the carving. Includes preliminary sketches and notes, candid studio shots, work-in-progress images, corrections, and journal entries. A unique look at the creative process that will inspire carvers, artists, and bird-lovers alike.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stackpole Books
• Release date: May 31, 2007
• ISBN: 9781461751892

Book preview

2006

Introduction

Iabsolutely love my job. The art of carving birds out of wood brings together so many things in my life that I enjoy. First and foremost are my passionate interest and deep respect for nature and the complex web of life that exists on our planet. As a child, I was always happiest when I could be outdoors exploring the woods, listening to the wind and watching birds. This need to be outdoors, combined with an artistic ability and penchant for woodworking, made it almost inevitable that these things might all blend together someday as a profession.

Most successful individuals can usually name one or two key people who made a difference in their lives and provided a source of inspiration. In addition to my father, my bird-carving inspiration came from a favorite uncle, an immensely talented man who spoke with a thick Eastern European accent and was married to my mother’s sister.

During the Hungarian revolution against communist Russia in the fall of 1956, a twenty-year-old Hungarian national named George Csefai witnessed the death of his father. As the rebellion fought back, sometimes armed with little more than kitchen utensils, the Hungarians were brutally crushed by the Russian forces during some of the darkest days of the Cold War. In an effort to escape the bloodshed, George made the decision to get out of Hungary and try to seek a better life in a free society. In his dangerous journey to escape the chaos, he traveled on foot, hitchhiked when he could, and spent many a cold night sleeping in abandoned barns. During the daylight hours, he hid in overgrown meadows and eventually found his way to freedom in the United States with the aid of a Catholic sponsorship group based in Connecticut.

He met and married my aunt Donna and began work as a machinist in Bridgeport, Connecticut. He was blessed with a sharp eye and an immense talent for creating things, and no one in our family was surprised that when a handcarved duck decoy caught his attention, he wanted to give bird carving a try. Within a short period of time, he became quite accomplished, and his birds began winning ribbons at various carving competitions in Long Island, New York. Uncle George had the heart of a child and loved to watch cartoons with us and play practical jokes. He seemed to delight in the careless antics that only children growing up in a free society could get away with.

To my ten-year-old eyes, he was a magician. I marveled at his ability to transform a piece of wood into a soft-looking, lifelike bird. During our frequent visits to 67 Savoy Street in Bridgeport, Connecticut where they lived, I was always drawn to his carving workshop to see what he was creating. I remember the smell of pine shavings mingling softly with the pungent aroma of turpentine. To this day, I’m transported back to that small room whenever I encounter those smells. It was a devastating blow to our family when, in the spring of 1973, he died of cancer at the age of thirty-six. Sometime during the previous winter, I had begun to do a little carving on my own. A couple days before his death, my parents took a tiny mallard drake I had carved to the hospital to show him. I was told that as he looked it over, he smiled. That’s how I will always remember him—smiling.

As fate would have it, I received a couple of his unfinished birds and a few of his tools as keepsakes. Little did anyone know that a simple gesture of remembrance would have such a profound impact and ultimately set the course for the rest of my life.

It was a special Christmas gift that same year of Bruce Burk’s new book, Game Bird Carving, that gave me the boost I needed. For the first time, I had a guide to help me better understand the fundamental techniques involved in my fledgling hobby. My free time was now devoted to learning this craft, and with each bird I completed, my confidence grew.

I studied Burk’s book thoroughly, along with Wendell Gilley’s classic Decorative Birdcarving, and they became two of my most prized possessions. My first rudimentary workbench was located under a stairwell amid the clutter of my parent’s basement. It was here that during the next seven years, I would spend countless hours carving, painting, and leaving trails of wood chips throughout the house. Fortunately for my family, we had a powerful vacuum cleaner wielded with authority by my mother. To this day, she’ll never allow me to forget it.

During the summer of 1976 while attending an exhibit of birdcarvings by the current big name carvers in Fairfield, Connecticut, I got up the courage to show the great John Scheeler one of my carvings. I don’t recall his comments on my work, but I do remember his words of advice. He told me, Find a book of bird paintings by the artist Raymond Ching and study his work. You’ll learn more than I can ever tell you. I followed his advice and have been a fan and admirer of the genius of Raymond Harris Ching ever since. His influence is evident in every bird I create.

1

The Commission

I’ve always enjoyed spending time with others who share my love of birds and art. There is something about this comfortable combination of interests that draws together like-minded people. I’ve been fortunate to have met and become friends with some pleasant and very interesting individuals, many of whom share my desire to protect and preserve our natural resources. I look forward to the occasions when I can attend events celebrating wildlife art; I admire the work of other artists and always come away with renewed inspiration. The isolated location of my studio in Hancock, Vermont, has its advantages when there’s work to be done, but I do need to get out and socialize from time to time.

Coming off a successful weekend at the Ward Foundation World Championships in Ocean City, Maryland, my spirits were high as I drove south toward Connecticut on Interstate 93. I had a bit of time now to rest and finally catch my breath. The frantic pace and long studio hours of carving and painting leading up to the Ward World Championships