Trees

I remember early in my painting journey I wanted some direction as to what I should paint. I then had a dream in which my Mother came to me, we were walking along a path near my home and I asked pleadingly, “What shall I paint?” to which She let out a joyful laugh and pointed up to a nearby tree saying “Aren’t they beautiful?”. I woke up the next morning feeling quite light about the whole thing. To paint the things one enjoys, what more could one ask of life.

Trees as teachers

I first began obsessively painting outside. In the beginning I made the mistake of thinking that if I painted everything I saw, my painting would look good. Through trial and error I stumbled upon a more calligraphic approach, just painting what I was interested in. I realised that I could convey more with a single vertical brushstroke against the white of the paper than twenty marks trying to put everything in. The trees became marks, intervals of notes across the page. What began to matter was not only the marks themselves but the spaces between them. Like music, the silence became as important as the sound.

Trees as Symbols

I also became fascinated by Russian folklore and pre-Christian pagan traditions. In some of these traditions, the pine was associated with the masculine principle and the birch with the feminine. During certain rituals, a sage would climb a pine tree as a way of drawing closer to heaven, using the tree as a bridge between the earthly and the divine.

This idea has stayed with me. Trees naturally draw our gaze upwards. Their roots are buried deep in the earth, yet their branches continually reach towards the sky. They seem to exist between worlds, as a bridge between earth and heaven.

Trees as Witnesses

Trees express qualities I strive towards, they silently witness all, non reactive. I felt if I could be a witness in this world, watch the play of life unfold around me in a detached manner I would not have much attachment to my so called problems. Painting trees was a means to learn from them and begin to imbibe their qualities.

I remember once seeing a tree in the Isle of Wight, where I went on a painting trip with my friend. The main trunk of the tree was completely in the dark surrounded by leaves and then a shaft of light shone on it, kind of like a biblical moment and it inspired a sense of hope in me, that even in times of darkness or confusion the light can appear to guide our way. The tree became a metaphor for my own spiritual journey towards the light.

Trees as Thresholds

In recent years the trees have begun serving another role. As the paintings move further from direct observation, memory and imagination take on a greater role. The marbled forms often emerge intuitively, revealing shapes and atmospheres I could not have planned. Yet I still need a way into the painting. More often than not, this begins with a tree. The tree provides a place to stand. A point of entry. Once it is there, the rest of the image starts to form itself, it allows me to emotionally relate with the organic mark created by the marbling.