Carlos Martínez, the Craftsman Who Gives Eternal Life to Wood in Chamizal

In the rural sector of Chamizal, commune of El Carmen, Ñuble Region, the sound of wood being worked still sets the rhythm of the days. There lives and works Carlos Martínez, a 51-year-old craftsman, born in the same place where he now builds his workspace. It is not a factory or an industrial shed: it is a humble workshop, built through his own effort, where every chair, table, or bed frame is made by hand, as it was done before.

Carlos did not learn the trade in a technical school or an institute. He learned by watching, helping, and repeating the gestures of his father, who left him wood as his inheritance. "I only studied up to the sixth grade," he recounts naturally. Going out of the area to study was difficult, due to the distance and conditions. But he never felt that was a limit. On the contrary, he found in wood a clear and honest path to live by.

Living Heritage

His father was also a craftsman. The family has roots in Trehualemu, but when his father was around 50 years old they moved to Chamizal, where they bought land and put down permanent roots. There Carlos grew up, among simple tools, logs, the smell of fresh wood, and hard work. "I liked it since I was little," he recalls. The first thing he made were small wooden floors, and then he began helping to twist the pita fiber for chairs, a slow and demanding task.

In those years there were no machines. Everything was done by hand. The lathe was artisanal, made with elastic bands and leather straps. Over time, Carlos perfected the craft, learning to look at others' furniture and dreaming of being able to make it himself. "I would see a table, a door, a bed frame, and say: someday I will make that." And he succeeded.

Patient Craft

Chairs were his first major product and remain his signature. Then came bed frames, tables, dressers, nightstands, and other furniture. All made to order. Carlos does not work with stock: each order has a name and a destination. A chair can take him a full day, but a set of several chairs implies weeks, because the work is mixed with farm chores and other orders.

The pita fiber, a key element in many of his chairs, is perhaps the most complex part. It comes from plants that grow in the area. The process is long: cutting the leaves, boiling them, drying them in the sun, washing them, drying them again, and finally twisting them by hand. Just preparing the pita can take between 10 and 15 days. It is not uncommon for many young people to give up. "Today's youth likes everything fast," says Carlos, aware that this tradition is at risk of disappearing.

Constant Work

Although he does not use social media or regularly participate in fairs, Carlos has permanent work. Word of mouth has been his best advertisement. His furniture has reached Chillán, Iquique, and even Puerto Montt. "Thank God, I lack hands," he says, without complaining. His phone number circulates among clients and recommendations, and that is enough.

He works from Monday to Monday. Some days he starts at 6 in the morning; others, he enters the workshop around 9. He can finish at 10 at night, especially when he is in the fine stages of the work. Even so, he admits he would like to slow down a bit, rest on Sundays, and see places beyond El Carmen.

Noble Wood

Carlos works mainly with raulí and chestnut, noble woods that are firm and durable. Part of the wood he obtains from his own land; another part, he buys from local suppliers. Selection is key: not just any wood will do. It must be smooth, without knots, because a knot can ruin an entire piece.

For him, wood is not just a material: it is part of his life. "It is the most beautiful gift God gave me," he states. He has tried planting potatoes, wheat, strawberries, but nothing gave him what this trade does. Not just income, but meaning. "I will die doing this work," he says with conviction.

Tradition at Risk

Carlos has no heirs to the trade. His daughter chose another path and there are, for now, no young people interested in learning. That worries him, but not out of selfishness. "The tradition should continue. Knowledge should not be kept to oneself." He knows his work represents something greater: a way of relating to wood, to time, and to things well made.

His chairs, he assures, can last generations. "It's not like store-bought furniture. This is eternal. You sit down and don't have to think about buying another chair in a year." In each piece there are hours of work, but also a philosophy: make little, make it well, and make it to last.

From Acoforag, we value the work of Carlos Martínez, highlighting that his craft represents a respectful and sustainable relationship with wood. His work rescues a tradition that adds value to the forest resource and strengthens local identity.

The feature in theAcoforag Magazine