As someone who tinkers with the occasional piece of bog oak, I know the hours of pleasure that can be derived from working, turning and following the lines of the wood until it is ready for polishing. The bog oak gives its own directions. It almost speaks, suggesting shapes, first one way and then another, until finally it reveals itself and the piece is complete. You might have started out with one thing in mind but the ancient wood can lead to other paths - if it is to be successful, they must be followed. But to see the work of a master in the medium is quite a different experience.
And Fergus Costello is a master. The 43-year-old Cork-born artist relocated to Cloughjordan, Co Tipperary some years ago and now has a permanent staff of eight people in his studio. Three of them are highly-acclaimed wood sculptors from the Shona people of Zimbabwe, formerly Rhodesia - the country just above South Africa, which provided the bolt-hole for fleeing Rhodesian whites when the game was up, the privileges were over, and a new reality was about to dawn.
And here I digress. Many years ago I had the assignment of covering Ian Smith's last election campaign in that country for RTE, when Smith travelled its length and breadth, trying to reassure but always sending out the message that he had done his best and that the invidious forces so mounted against them all had become overpowering.
Those who came to hear him in the remoter parts of the country usually carried machine guns slung over their shoulders. In those days in Salisbury - now Harare - the guns were a common sight also. Something was ending and the mood was in the air. Seeing the three Shona wood carvers at work in Cloughjordan brought it all back.
The Costello story is an interesting one. Having left school in Cork at 18 he studied at the National College of Art and Design in Dublin for three years. His late father, Comdt Michael Costello, had served in the Congo and during his tours of duty had begun to amass quite a collection of African art.
At an early age, then, Fergus Costello was exposed to African wood sculpture in his own home, and he was impressed. In time he would also serve in Africa in his own way and begin what must be a unique artistic experiment.
Cloughjordan arose after the Cromwellian campaign in Ireland when land was ceded to the soldiers who remained behind. The village has a timeless air to it - not much happens there - but it has a peace and serenity that an artist could come to appreciate.
Fergus Costello doesn't know where fate will lead him in the quest to bring bog oak, bog pine and bog yew, some of it older than the pyramids of Egypt, back to life. Though for now it would appear that Cloughjordan will be his permanent home.
His extraordinary talent was expressed initially through his desire to work not only with ancient and new woods, but in metal, stone and canvas as well, to depict the Christian mystery. This led him into what he describes as the creation of "worship spaces" - places that are converted using the stunning pieces that he crafts, to become oases of contemplation, prayer and meditation. It might be in a great cathedral, a school - once, he converted a broom closet to be used as a "worship space" - or it might be a retirement home for the religious.
All over Ireland, and much further afield, his work adorns noble buildings as well as those never much in the public gaze. His word of mouth reputation has brought him to work in Africa and America, but up to now Fergus Costello has eschewed publicity and as far as marketing his talent goes, suffice it to say he has been somewhat lacking in that area.
With wood, silver, gold and stone, as well as his brush, the artist has decided to branch out - to proclaim himself. He is now taking on secular commissions - he will execute a bog oak fireplace for a great house or a small one; he has crafted exquisite bog oak briefcases and individual pieces from ancient yew and pine.
He will convert a boardroom or create a thematic hotel foyer. His keen eye and hands are in tune with the woods that come to light in the rich bogland around Cloughjordan. And when he has finished the careful process of drying the timeless timbers, there begins the honing and chipping away until, inevitably, something more beautiful than what was taken from the bog emerges.
Yet, because of his earlier reluctance to go forth and sell his wares in the wider marketplace, Fergus Costello is hardly as well known as he might be. The definitive struggling artist, he could go down the road of seeking outside investors to lighten his financial load. Instead, he will become more aggressive in the attempt to bring his multi-media talents to a more substantial audience.
He has tried unsuccessfully to secure funding through State schemes and must now secure the future of his gallery and workshops in Cloughjordan by generating more revenue.
New techniques in land reclamation have thrown up a rich harvest of preserved wood for the Cork artist. In the fields around Cloughjordan, farmers are now able to turn bog into productive land. In doing so, native Irish pine, oak and yew trunks, some of them truly magnificent specimens, are unearthed. When that happens the farmers contact Fergus, who brings in special equipment to raise the massive timbers from where they fell over the millennia.
On the day I called to his studio, the old had met the new. A wonderful carving of a man hewn from a gigantic piece of relatively new oak - probably no more than several hundred years old - stood side by side with examples of its ancient cousins, which were being worked on by the Shona artists.
The Costello theory was that because the two pieces were recovered from the same vicinity, DNA profiling would surely show that both tree trunks shared a common lineage across the divide of time. Would it not be an interesting experiment to conduct?
The idea of carving the male figure was to use it as a road sign pointing to the Cloughjordan studio. The Tipperary authorities thought better, and refused permission on some technicality or other. Given some of the abysmal roadside "art" to be seen all over the State, their decision hardly stands as a monument to advanced thinking.
The idea then, is that if Fergus Costello can't bring the people to Cloughjordan, he will bring his work to the people. He is preparing to assemble a roadshow, if that is the correct expression, to "tour" his art in the Republic and overseas. I have little doubt that once it has been seen - not to say experienced - there will be many new followers.
Costello has a strong belief that when he works for a community - wherever the project may be - he should reflect the roots and sense of history of that community.
Some years ago a commission for the parishioners of Ring in Co Waterford was seen by Bishop Hugh Slattery, a native of north Tipperary who administers a huge dioceses, comprising 150 churches in Tzaneen, in South Africa's Northern Transvaal. He invited Costello to travel to South Africa and organise local artists working in wood, to reflect their own roots in a native setting.
Although the apartheid regime was still in power, Fergus lived in the townships and villages, moving under stealth and "kick starting" the project. Local artists working with native woods such as teak and jacaranda - one of the most gloriously flowering trees of Africa - discovered new purpose and direction.
And then Fergus Costello had another idea. What if the wood sculpting cultures could be brought together? Bordering that area in South Africa was the dioceses of Gweru in Zimbabwe, under the administration of Bishop Francis Mugadzi. He suggested to the bishop that native artists should join him in Clough jordan in a cross-cultural exchange. They would learn from him, he would learn from them.
The bishop agreed and last May the three Shona artists arrived in Cloughjordan. They were: Silas Shayanawako (24); Stefani Rotani (21); and Paradzai Havatitye (22). They now live with Rosin and Fergus Costello, as well as six of the seven Costello children in the village. The eldest Costello son is pursuing a degree course at Trinity.
The Zimbabweans have taken to Irish bog woods as if they knew them all their lives. On a cold autumn day in Clough jordan, far from the sunshine of their homeland, they were working contentedly on individual pieces which had not yet taken their true form. But they would, asserted Fergus Costello, because these were master craftsmen with an inner gift. Were they not freezing? I asked, - "No, but I told them they will be soon" - he replied.
The Shona woodworkers may remain in Cloughjordan for a year, perhaps more, developing a new edge to their skills. They are happy to be there, Costello is happy to have them. The experiment is a good one - it may be just one more step on Fergus Costello's road to new heights.