Latest creation by Richie now stands in Dublin golf course

Eilís Ryan

The cast of wooden creatures and characters that inhabited the workshop of Mullingar wood sculptor Richie Clarke last week has changed.

Cúchulainn is still there; the rear wall is still providing accommodation to the Enbarr – the mythological stallion owned by Manannán mac Lir; the Morrigan is taking shape; but gone is the imposing seven-foot-tall sculpture of the Scottish golfer James Braid (designer of Mullingar Golf Club, as it happens).

Commissioned by Grange Golf Club in Dublin, the Braid sculpture now stands bolted firmly to a plinth at the Rathfarnham course, a delicately carved golf club resting in his crooked arm, his moustache shaded by the brim of his golfing cap. He should outlast many of the club’s members: carved from Irish-grown sequoia (American redwood), with proper care he should last a generation at least, says Richie.

Richie is one of Ireland’s handful of wood sculptors, that talented tribe who can look at a tree trunk and see not what it is, but what it can become – and he has been doing that for more than 20 years now.

It’s not the exact direction he started out in: “When I left St Mary’s CBS, I went to college for a year to do engineering, but I just didn’t really like it. I was always interested in art – and did art lessons with May Raleigh – but I didn’t stick with the art in secondary school. I just don’t know why. Maybe it was too structured. But then I ended up doing honours art for the Leaving – I ended up getting the notes and I got the honour in it, and I was thinking that would get me into art college, but I had no portfolio or anything.”

After a year studying engineering with AnCO in Athlone, Richie decided to go into carpentry.

“I suppose being artistic, and I wanted to work with my hands… carpentry is a beautiful trade and wood is such a lovely material.”

He served his time, qualified, and became self-employed, moving into furniture-making in his late 20s; beneath the surface, however, the artist was beginning to assert itself.

“When I was about 19 or 20, I came across a wood carving magazine in the old Days Bazaar – and I nearly wore it out. I was just totally inspired.”

He bought a small set of beginner carving tools and started working away as a hobby. Later, in his furniture workshop, he began getting requests from restorers to recreate damaged or missing carved elements, roses, details, small decorative pieces.

“But where the turning point really came from was we – my then girlfriend, now wife – went to a festival in Gloucestershire, this major sculpture festival.”

There he encountered chainsaw carving, already well established in Canada and the United States, but only beginning to take hold in the UK.

“When I saw these guys, about 10 of them, carving these big, huge logs into amazing pieces of sculpture, I remember thinking, ‘wow, I’d love to work large scale. I’d love to work with that freedom with these saws, and to be able to work the material fast that way’.

“It’s quite dangerous and physical, but the payoff is, you know, you can do large figures. I love doing large figures. So I came home, and of course, nothing would do me but to buy a couple of saws.”

Wise enough to know they were powerful and dangerous machines, he did all the safety courses to get certified in how to use the chainsaw, and began dabbling at carving, teaching himself, because there wasn’t really anywhere one could go to learn the craft.

Even YouTube wasn’t the resource it is today, so he was learning from books.

“And then, when the internet really expanded and opened up, I was following some interesting carvers. They were doing great things. And really though it was me, just feeling my way into it.”

One of the early influences was British woodcarver Chris Pye, whose books Richie had studied. He later travelled to the UK to spend a week learning from him.

“He taught me how to be a carver, a proper carver, how to approach it properly, how to use the tools properly, how to work the material properly, and have a structured approach to carving and sculpture and design. So that was a really good foundation, because if you can do something small, even in clay, you can transpose it to large scale. All that changes is the tools, so you move on to chainsaws.”

Around 2007, the recession forced the closure of his furniture workshop, and Richie returned to general carpentry. Luckily, he says, he was able to get by, but in the meantime, if he was having a quiet week, he might carve a small piece, maybe a rabbit or a hare. What surprised him was that despite the recession, he was able to sell them.

“So then I started to see that festivals, music festivals, cultural festivals, were a great avenue to put yourself out there to show your work to the world.”

He began exhibiting at events such as the Festival of the Fires on Uisneach, before joining the Green Crafts collective at Electric Picnic, experiences that brought exposure and connections.

Through that, he began working with Husqvarna, giving demonstration carvings at the National Ploughing Championships.

“That’s a whole different ball game, because you are surrounded by people. It’s quite nerve-wracking. But you know what? I learned so much from it.”

He did that for several years, and it led to larger commissions, including work for Dublin Zoo. As his reputation grew, so too did demand – from county councils, the Office of Public Works, and private clients.

The James Braid commission presented a different kind of challenge. Much of Richie’s work draws on mythology, allowing for creative interpretation, but Braid was a real figure, with distinct physical traits.

“He had very long legs and they kept telling me: ‘make sure now you have his legs looking long’.”

The process began with a photograph, scaled up and transferred to a plywood template before the first cuts were made into the sequoia log.

Sequoia (redwood) and macrocarpa cedar are among Richie’s preferred materials, valued for their durability and resistance to insects. Hardwoods, he explains, are more prone to splitting and decay over time. Each finished piece is treated with preservatives and oils to prolong its life. “It’s a natural material. You have to look after it.”

Some of his commissions involve carving directly into tree stumps. Example can be seen in Mullingar Town Park at the Fagan property near Crookedwood. His largest such work, a 40-foot carving of the Children of Lir, required working at height using scaffolding.

Irish mythology remains a rich source of inspiration, something Clarke notes is echoed by sculptors worldwide drawing on their own cultural traditions. “It’s such a rich source of characters,” he says. “Gods, goddesses, mythical animals… you’d never run out.”

For Richie, the works are both art and cultural expression. “When I share a piece, I explain the story behind it. You’re showcasing art, but you’re also keeping Irish culture alive.”

His sculptures often become focal points, drawing attention from passers-by and interest from local schools.

“You might have a teacher bring a class down, and you’re explaining the story to them. That’s a lovely part of it, passing it on.”

Now working full-time as a sculptor, Richie rarely has to seek work. “I’m lucky – the work comes to me now,” he says. “Between public commissions and private clients, I’m usually booked six months ahead.”

He hopes to stage another solo exhibition featuring large-scale pieces drawn from mythology and beyond. “I’d love to put together a body of work and show it properly,” he says.

For now, his focus remains on the next commission, the next figure waiting to be released from the wood. “You just take your time,” he says. “If you rush it, you’ll make a mistake – and you can’t undo that.”