Nestled between the lush green hills of Kollimalai and Pachaimalai, the village of Thammampatti in Salem district is synonymous with traditional wood crafts. Artisans patiently chip away at wood to carve out life-like faces with nothing but a chisel and a hammer, giving sustenance to the unique art of sculpting that began almost a century ago.
Consisting of around 60 families and 200 artisans, the community was founded by Andaver and his brother in 1942. It is said the family learned wood carving from the temple workers of Thanjavur and its neighbouring villages before it left to establish a workshop at Thammampatti.
A chariot for village temple
What began with the creation of a chariot for the village’s Ugra Kadhali Narasimha Swamy Temple, which is said to be 700 years old, now plays an integral part in providing a glimpse into Tamil Nadu’s cultural heritage to travellers departing from the halls of the Chennai International Airport, where wood carvings from the village are on display. Traditional Dravidian architecture, sculptures and figurines have been forged out of stone since time immemorial, as can be seen in various temples across south India. Later, metal gained popularity, and patrons from different dynasties commissioned bronze statues, such as the famous Nataraja idols of the Chola period.
But what separates these carvings from the rest is the use of wood and the intricate designs the artisans chisel out in a fashion similar to that used in stone sculpting. “Our ancestors identified that this land was abundant in Vaagai maram (Albizia lebbeck tree), which meant the exercise of procuring material would be easier. It is not easy to transport stone or metal. This could be why they chose wood,” says P. Sengottuvel, grandson of Andaver and a third-generation artisan from the community.
Back then, settling in the agricultural village meant the artisans received a few orders but for large pieces. This allowed them to use sustainable seasoning methods to drain moisture from the wood. “We continue to use natural methods with little chemicals. The wood is exposed to rain, wind and cold temperatures, and finally dried under the sun. This takes a long time but it is important that we don’t deviate from our tradition,” Mr. Sengottuvel explains.
The process begins with the artist chalking out a rough image of the design on the bark of a tree, giving him an outline to work with. This allows for the judicious use of the tree that costs ₹1,200 per cubic square foot. The canvas is then given shape, one layer at a time, with the use of a traditional fishtail gouge or chisel to add ridges. The gouge is hammered from the top by a block of wood, until a piece chips off to create the intricate designs the artisans are known for.
“The traditional practice makes the process slow and expensive. The starting price is ₹3,000 and it goes up to ₹4.4 lakh for a nine-foot Balaji statue. It takes two days to even make a foot-long sculpture. But our aim is to make our designs affordable and accessible to people because we believe that art should reach everyone, irrespective of their social and financial status,” Mr. Sengottuvel says. To make this possible, the Department for Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises recently allotted ₹8 crore for the development of machinery that can make wood carving a quicker process. The artisans plan to continue creating unique designs by hand, while the mechanised system can focus on bulk orders.
Ganesha idols are being shipped to countries such as the U.S., the U.K. and Malaysia, and are often bought by high-ranking government officials in India among others.
Greater participation from women
The art of carving wood, which is male-dominant, is witnessing greater participation from the women of the community in recent times. While they are yet to take up tools and create designs by hand, they work to season wood, smoothen the surface with sandpaper and put the finishing touches to the artefacts. Additionally, the community provides training to youth under the State-run skill development schemes and helps induct them into the practice. While each family within the community has its own business, they often aid one another in their daily work and support each other. “I know that even when I am unable to finish work due to other commitments, the artefact will be completed by someone else. We understand one another,” says Raju, a State awardee. “This spirit of community and mutual respect is what has helped the art survive even in this era of modernisation,” he adds.
