Out of the woods – Let the chainsaws sing

September 29, 2026

In the hands of some, a chainsaw becomes something more than an instrument for felling and dismantling trees, it transforms into an artist’s tool.

Chainsaw carving began, as many folk arts do, as a byproduct of a more essential pursuit, forestry. The transition to lightweight power tools in the 1970s put motorised chainsaws into the hands of a generation of loggers for the first time, motivating a small number to explore what more this modern tool could do. Like generations of creative Finns before them who had found inspiration in the materials and tools of the forest, modern-day carvers set out to find forms hidden in the logs around them, most often returning to totemic motifs from folklore such as the bear and woodland animals. A chainsaw, it turns out, can be a remarkably precise tool in the right hands, and Finns, it seems, have a particular affinity to this instinctive, brutal art form.

If the impulse to carve is the same, the difference is in the tool. The spluttering heft of the mechanical saw, its undeniable physicality, speed, and, well, brutal nature makes it an unlikely utensil for dexterous sculpting. But it is precisely that awkward union between brutishness and skill, force and delicacy, machine and eye, that appeals. This is an extreme craft by anyone’s measure, sitting eccentrically somewhere between traditional sculpture, outsider art and hobby. It is part of a long tradition of creative counterculture in Finland where an appetite for the bold and unconventional combines with introspection. And where an expression of place and landscape is never far away.

Although the first chainsaw carvers were loggers, today people from all backgrounds have chosen to pick up a chainsaw and join the movement. Chainsaw carving is taught in classes and promoted through forums, online platforms, public showcases and competitions. One of the best-known events is the Karhufestivaali in Ilomantsi, established by the Finnish Association for Rural Culture and Education in 2014 as part of an EU rural development programme. The practice has also been officially recognised as part of Finland’s living heritage, helping to bring chainsaw carving into the public consciousness and turning some of its leading practitioners into minor celebrities.

Like in any craft, there are purists and progressives. Traditionalists promote using only the chainsaw and a single log for each sculpture. Non-traditional carvers use joints to connect pieces of wood and employ an array of hand tools alongside the chainsaw. Although the art form can be employed to create any kind of sculpture, the bear is a Finnish symbol with deep meaning and is a familiar representation of the country’s connection to the wild. As such it’s a popular motif and at the annual Karhufestivaali every sculpture represents a bear and each carver is tasked with expressing their individual style and personality through original iterations of this singular subject.

A connection to the wild is not just found in symbolism though. For many chainsaw carvers the practice itself is an overt expression of their relationship with the Finnish landscape and to the forest. Working in such close proximity with the timber (most often Scots Pine and Spruce) demands intense focus on the material itself. Carvers learn how the wood behaves, how to find forms within it and how to react to idiosyncrasies like knots and grain.

Chainsaw carving is an international practice. It can be found in America, Japan and elsewhere in Europe – wherever there is a culture closely connected to the forest. But there is a visual language to the Finnish sculptures that sets them apart from their counterparts. Finnish works are typically rough and naive, imperfection is celebrated, there is a tangible immediacy, energy, and expression to the final works that is prized over perfection and realism.

Carvers can be found across Finland but they come together to compete and exhibit. Taisto Pehkonen has been carving for 20 years and refers to the practice as a developing craft. “There are limits to what you can do” he says about using the chainsaw, but it is pushing those limits that excites makers like him.

“I enjoy bringing something out of the wood – getting inside the material and creating what I want from what’s already there” says another established carver, Kari Onninen.

Tero Aarni is representative of the younger generation of chainsaw sculptors. After only a year he has developed a deep fascination for the practise. He recognises the challenges of carving “Once you’ve cut something away, you can’t go back - you just have to keep moving forward.” And notes the fact that his practise is an evolution of a long-held Finnish relationship with wood, reflecting; “It is, after all, a traditional way of making art.”

Working with the saw is fast, physically demanding, and unforgiving. It calls for skill and instinct combined. But more profoundly its practice is a ritual that amounts to veneration of the sustaining forest and the precious timber it produces. Something that means much more to this devoted community of chainsaw wielding sculptors.