Matthew G. Welter -
From Wooden Spools to Monuments
(As published in Chip Chats Magazine)
By:  Patricia Welter
November 1995

            Telling you about Matthew is like telling you about the wind.  Sometimes gentle and sweet, sometimes not so gentle, sometimes a whirling dervish, always unpredictable, and surely sweeping you along into unfamiliar territory.  He likes to think he inherited his craftsmanship from his father and his artistry from his mother.  But no, it is a God-given talent, and as his mother and father, we expect him to repay this God in kind.  Matt's important pieces are laced with real emotion and heart.  His contemporary pieces with all their curves and spheres cry out to you with a sense of contemplation, sometimes hiding the real truth.  The challenge is there for you to ponder.
            And where did it all begin?  A question mothers ask all the time.  It began with wooden spools I believe.  Just simple wooden spools, tossed in a box devoid of bright thread.  There weren't too many at first, so the figures he made were few.  Soon my friends were saving spools for Matt, and before long he was constructing kings and queens and knights in armor ....and then it was full Nativity sets and the like.  With four sisters and three brothers, there were Christmas gifts to be made.  We all knew what we could expect from Matt.... more wooden people.
            We live in a marvelous place called Apple Hill.  The air is fresh and pungent with the smell of earth.  It brings out the best in all of us.  Matt was a worker from the beginning and was fascinated with bees.  Probably because they too were workers.  At the age of twelve, and unbeknown to us, he went to our local bank for a business loan.  He always had a plan.  The bank called us and we hurried to Pollock Pines to find out what Matt was up to NOW.  Surprisingly he got the loan, made all his own bee boxes and frames, and bought ten packages of bees.  His Dad and I saw the making of an entrepreneur, and frankly, it scared us a little.
            One day he saw a local artist carving a log with a chainsaw.  It was the beginning of a fantasy and so he made the leap from wooden spools to giant Pine and Cedar in just one breathless moment.  It was like the call of the wild.... and wild it was.  This particular artist was a legend of sorts and agreed to have Matt work for him (cleaning up the shop, etc.), but there was a hitch.  Matt had to pay him $1.00 an hour.  It was a sure way of finding out just how serious Matt was about carving.  There was even a time at first when he suggested Matt didn't have the real stuff.  He rose to the occasion, however, and how does a twelve year old pay for the experience? .... Honey money, of course.  We were lucky to get a lick of that sweet nectar.  Matt was the seventh of eight children, and there just weren't extra dollars to spare for lessons of any sort.  In looking back, it was the making of a tenacious child who needed to chase dreams and "failure" wasn't a word that could or would be part of his vernacular.
            At the age of sixteen he opened his first legitimate business called the Wooden People Shoppe.  It was the wee-smallest place you could imagine and he carved right in the middle of the floor.  It was ridiculous, but he couldn't falter.... he had to pay the rent.  He became restless several years later, and after graduating from school he hit the road quite literally.  We were horrified.  "Why can't you be a cabinet maker like your father", I would say .... "Do something stable and think of your future".  But no, the artist in Matt had to experience life and off he went on a very small motorcycle.  Well, I guess he experienced life, because he came home two years later a little worse for wear .... but wiser in a sense. 
            He carved and never lost sight of his dreams.... however, at times, I expect the dreams were more like nightmares.  Once, in a fit of youthful despair, and because he was harboring some reproach for his nude art, he decided to make an "artistic statement".  On a cold winter morning in January he went outside and carved his nude.... in the nude.
Artists do think "funny'' at times, and the sheriff wrapped him in a blanket and threw his bare buns in jail.  He apologized to the community on the front page of the local newspaper much to the consternation of the entire family.  I went to a different church for three weeks because I couldn't face my friends.  Well, you asked me to write this article, and I have to tell it like it was.
            Finally, he rented another very small shop on the west shores of Lake Tahoe at Meeks Bay.  It was so small he had to carve under a tent close by.  People did stop, however, for certainly it was an oddity.  He used the shop to lock up his tools at night and his dad and I were still saying "why don't you do something stable in life".  Matt has a way of doing his OWN thing, and soon we were to learn he had signed a three year lease on a building in Kings Beach.  And, not a dime to his name.  We were appalled.... (Again).  It's not that we have little faith.... it's just that we were logical conservative people.  But like I've said before, Matt was out chasing dreams, and dream chasers throw all caution to the wind.  He shared the building that first year to cut expenses and we thought at least HALF the rent will be paid.  By the end of the first year, he took over the whole building.  Now, we figured he was in REAL trouble.
            Matt has a way of proving us wrong which can be most aggravating, but on the other hand, we envy his strength and his success, and we aren't chanting that stuff about a stable life anymore.  The gallery grew by leaps and bounds against all odds and despite our best advice.  When you can't fight them anymore you join them if you have any sense at all.  And next I will tell you about the hardest part.... the part that changed all our lives forever.
            Three days after Christmas when the festivities were winding down and the New Year winding up, we got that dreaded call all parents fear.  We were advised to drive promptly but carefully to Reno.  Matthew had been in a terrible automobile accident on Highway 80, and was critical.  Life Flight fought for his life right in the middle of the freeway, traffic was stalled for two hours, and the news on T.V. that night announced his demise.  The drive that night seemed endless, and to this day I still relive those moments on occasion.  We reached the Washoe Trauma Center about midnight after driving more than two hours and it was close to 3 a.m. before we finally were admitted to I.C.U.  His injuries were very extensive, any one of which could and almost did take his very life.  There were days and days of ups and downs.  The ups so beautiful and the downs so dreadful.  Of course, the whole family rallied to his side and held his hand and God was promised good things no human being could deliver in this lifetime.  I must give enormous credit to our other seven children who were a rock of strength through this whole
ordeal.... they were marvelous.
            I remember going into the Chapel where the seats had been donated by different religious denominations.  I tried them all.... I was determined to cover all the bases.  The big question once we got past his life and death situation was.... would he ever carve again?  A broken neck, broken shoulder, crushed vertebrae in his back.... His right arm badly broken and bolted together with a steel plate.  He was desperately dependent on a respirator for seven weeks because of lung damage, and we won't go into the internal injuries.  It's just all to complicated.  We calmed ourselves with the knowledge he could still sculpt clay, knowing well that would never be enough for Matt.  His idea of success was monuments.... very big and tall monuments.  Would his arm ever support a big chainsaw again?  Only time would tell.... a long time.   After several months at Washoe we finally took him home.  We can't thank them enough for his life, and we bless the staff of doctors and nurses especially.  Once home with us, he asked for a table and a hunk of clay and some tools and it was heartbreaking to see his frustration with the simple task of molding clay.  His father and I watched and wept silently.
The gallery plodded on with the help of the whole town of Kings Beach.  People bought Matt's contemporary sculptures, not necessarily because they could afford them, but because they wanted to help.  There were fund-raisers and hundreds of cards and prayers.  The newspapers gave him incredible support, and it was all genuine concern.  Almost two years later, people still stop Matt on the street and ask how he is doing.  The best part of the story is yet to be told.  Be patient....
            The rest of that first year, there was physical therapy and the mending of the body.  The next six months there was more of the same.  Even the mind had to mend.  Matthew insisted he would carve again, and convinced himself his creativity was better than ever.  He said he saw things differently than before.  He just couldn't put the package together at first.  We waited and we watched.  A gentleman with great faith in Matt put him to the test.  He commissioned him to carve a ten-foot piece for the Y.M.C.A. in San Diego.  An American Indian warrior and his son.  It was a basic piece actually with the father standing behind the boy.  Matt took the piece so much further.... giving it life and passion as only Matt can do.  A warrior sending his son into the hunt for the first time.  The son with so much expectation in his face and the father with just a hint of concern and fear for the boy.  His hand rests on the boy's shoulder as if to say I'm here for you, and the son reaching back to touch his father as if to be sure he was still there.  At first, he only worked for an hour at a time, taking long breaks.  The weather would turn cold soon and by now he had received another commission for the Squaw Valley Ski Resort.... also to be carved before winter set in.  An eighteen foot monument with six children skiing around the perimeter of a huge monstrous tree.
            I suppose what really happened is Matt bit off more than he could chew and then he chewed it.  So typical and so therapeutic.  The Indian father and his son are installed in the courtyard of the Y.M.C.A. to everyone's delight and the monument for Squaw Valley is just about ready for delivery.  With the first leg of his journey back now complete, he ventures into a new concept for Lake Tahoe and that he must tell you about himself.  It's just too incredible and ambitious for a simple Mother to fathom.  And now you know why I have gray hair.... I earned every on of them.