A WHIRRING chainsaw may not be a tool traditionally associated with an artist. But in the hands of self-taught wood sculptor Paul Sivell, the three-foot power tool is deployed in the way a painter uses a brush or an orchestra conductor wields a baton.

His skill can turn a dying or damaged tree stump into a majestic pair of owls or a pair of otters gracefully gliding in pursuit of quarry.

He can make a haunting face peer from the gnarled old trunk of a great oak or fashion an oversized stag beetle from a lime tree.

Not bad for a man who was warned by a careers master that his best bet was to become a bank clerk.

Admittedly, Paul, 53, of Niton, has followed a career path that has gradually led him to his current calling.

He started in forestry and then became a tree surgeon before moving into countryside management.

About 20 years ago, when he lived in Gosport, his wife Joan came back from a country show having seen someone carve a heron in just 16 minutes.

"I said I could do that and just set about it. It took me a lot longer than 16 minutes, though," Paul said.

A second larger heron was then carved for the gatepost at the entrance of the Wildground nature reserve in Gosport that remains in place to this day.

Then came a ten-year period in which Paul forgot about carving. When he resumed - again with a heron - his enthusiasm returned and he started more ambitious creations.

"I started doing work for people and began to get busier and busier.

"I never really thought it would go from making the odd sculpture to making a living.

"It is quite a jump, but that is what happened."

Paul's work is now very much in demand. Not just on the Island but further afield.

Perhaps his best-known work is in the sculpture park at Towngate, Newport, where the nine-metre high Return of the Native depicts two otters chasing salmon.

The piece is on the walkway to the Sainsbury's store so has hundreds of admirers.

But it wasn't the case during the ten days he spent creating the sculpture. In fact, it was not altogether a pleasant experience.

He was working in the biting cold of January and the tree, a London plane, was full of nails - the remnants of generations of tree houses and tree-top camps - which were a constant menace to the sharp blades of his tools.

Then there was an old Scotsman who tested Paul's patience.

"He came up and asked what I was doing.

"I had nearly fished the piece and told him to go around the other side and see for himself.

"First of all he asked me if it was going to be a moose, then when I told him to look again, he suggested it was a Pokemon.

"I gave up at that point. I climbed back up the tree and started my chainsaw."

Careful thought goes into each work. The design is of critical importance and Paul strives to come up with a creation sympathetic to the tree on which it emerges.

The run of the grain also shapes what can be done and Paul is always keen that whatever is sculptured is relevant to the history of its surroundings.

When the design is finalised, Paul moves in with his chainsaw.

He works with three chainsaws, the largest a three-foot £800 monster, although he has more recently added a smaller chainsaw with a special carving bar for more intricate work.

For the finest of detail, he applies the trusty mallet and chisel.

He is careful never to impose his design on the wood, using the colour, grain and any natural defects to enhance the final creation.

With conservation uppermost in most minds, important to Paul is that much of his work is with dead, damaged or dying trees.