The fading scent of tradition: Why Karnataka’s woodcarving heritage is on the brink

As raw material costs soar and government support shrivels, a centuries-old lineage of master craftsmen faces an inevitable sunset.

Inside a workshop in Sagara, the rhythmic strike of a chisel against timber tells a story of survival, not legacy. Adarsh Gudigar, a master of his craft, looks at his workbench and sees the end of an era. His ancestors, like the generations of Gudigars and Achars across Shivamogga, Uttara Kannada, and Mysuru, built their reputation on the intricate grain of sandalwood. Now, that lineage stops with him. "My children will not become artisans," he says flatly. "They will pursue higher education and get proper jobs that secure our social and economic status."

The high price of a dying art

The transition away from the craft is driven by harsh economic realities. For decades, the woodcarving community has navigated a shifting landscape; first, the ivory bans forced a pivot to sandalwood, and now, a crippling shortage has pushed artists toward rosewood and teak. The price of sandalwood has become prohibitive, ballooning from ₹115 per kg in the 1990s to a staggering ₹18,000 today. Even when an artisan can afford the wood, the quality is often compromised by lumps or cracks, rendering it useless for the fine detail required for traditional artefacts.

For veterans like Bhoopathy Achar, a 70-year-old award-winning artisan from Channapattana, the math simply doesn't add up. He recalls a time when the government provided an annual allocation of 18 kg of sandalwood to sustain the trade—a quota that dwindled to four kg before vanishing entirely. Without state intervention, thousands of artists have been left without work since the early 2000s. Whether it is Gudigar in Sagara or Ganesh Achar in Sirsi, the consensus is grim: the artisan family is rapidly becoming a relic of the past.

Balancing the books

To keep their businesses afloat, craftsmen are diversifying into interior design and general furniture making. While an intricate statue of a deity can fetch up to ₹4 lakh, the market is fickle. Clients increasingly weigh the cost of sandalwood artefacts against the investment value of silverware, often opting for the latter. Consequently, sandalwood carving has shifted from a primary livelihood to a bespoke, occasional service. Gudigar admits he only touches the fragrant wood when a specific order comes in, treating it more as a fading specialty than a daily vocation.

Why it matters

The decline of these artisan clusters highlights a deeper systemic failure: the loss of intangible cultural heritage due to a lack of raw material security. While policy focus often shifts toward modern industrial growth, the traditional sectors—which form the backbone of rural economies in Karnataka—are being squeezed out by market forces. If the government fails to formalize supply chains for raw materials like sandalwood, the state risks losing more than just a craft; it will lose the centuries-old knowledge base embedded in these families. When the last of the master carvers retires, the economic and cultural vacuum left behind will be irreversible.