12. Dragons

Today is my last excursion with Mr. Lucky, and I know I’m going to miss his kindness and sense of adventure.  I look at his smiling face as he enthusiastically tells me about where we’re going.  “This area, Mas Village, is known for woodcarvers,” he says.  “They’ve been a community for many years, and they pass their skills down from one generation to the next.  There is no formal education.  They simply — or not so simply because it takes years to get their skills — learn from those around them.  Carvers sit together outside, under the shade of the trees and start learning their craft at a very young age.”  “Do girls learn this skill, too?”  “It’s mostly boys.  When girls get older they take part in the finishing process.”  I feel the van slowing down and look out the window to see two men using an old-fashioned double-handed saw to cut a fallen tree into pieces.  I’m struck by the fact that they aren’t using a chainsaw.  Then I remember that I’m in Bali, which is not very industrialized.  People do things by hand here.  “You see how the tree has been stripped bare and the bark is shaved off?”  “Yes.”  “Once it is cut down and stripped, men cut the tree into blocks of wood.  Those are put into a pile like that one on the right.”  I look over to the pile.  “And those are used to carve figurines?”  “Yes.  Those blocks will soon be crafted into masterpieces.”  “This is interesting.  I’ve never really thought about the process behind the carvings I’ve seen for sale here.”  “I’m glad you think so.  It’s hard work.”  “I can see that.  Just look at the length of that tree and their saw.  I don’t know how they do it in this heat.  My back hurts just looking at the way they are bent over.”  We continue driving to the Mas village and pull into a factory parking lot.  “Let’s get out and meet some of the carvers.”  “That would be great.  Will they mind being photographed while they work?”  “No,  I think they are used to it.  Sometimes guides bring guests here.”  The van door slides open, and I’m immediately hit with a wall of heat and humidity.  Without a breeze, it’s stifling.  Mr. Lucky and I are greeted by a very friendly man who tells me about the history of the factory as we enter a very basic work area.  As I listen to him, I see seven men sitting cross-legged on the bare ground.  They’re covered in wood chips.  Each of them holds a carving tool in one hand, and in their laps are blocks of wood that they are slowly shaping into art.  I can see the beginnings of Buddha in one man’s lap.  Another man is carving a spectacular Chinese dragon, which is intricate and absolutely exquisite.  I watch as the carver works, unaffected by the presence of my camera.  I have a flashback of the dragon statues I saw in China and to the live dragon that gave me the chills this morning as I was leaving the breakfast room at the Four Seasons.  There was a Komodo dragon in one of the reflection pools, and it hissed at me as I walked by.  It looked prehistoric and mean, and I feel much more comfortable looking at this carving.  “They do not use patterns on the wood,” the man from the factory tells me.  “It is created using the pattern in their minds.”  “It’s totally freehand?  Nothing is drawn?”  “That’s right.”  “Wow.  That takes a lot of talent.”  “Yes, it does,” he says tapping his forehead.  “It’s all from here…”