I've recently started reading 'Wildwood - A Journey Through Trees' by Roger Deakin. It has been high on the list of the books I've wanted to read for a while - and my 'Branches of the Poet Tree' project made it the perfect time to read the book for inspiration. You can find a little more about my idea here:
Briefly, as part of my 'Poetry Seen at Cowslip Sunday' installation (which will create a series of banners using poetic texts, predominantly featuring poems written by people from Lambley - including contributions from local schoolchildren, but also using some more well known pieces, such as Ariel's song from Shakespeare's 'The Tempest') I also want to create an original piece of art (using two lines from a poem by Shel Silverstein) produced in the form of tree branches - then have these hang from an appropriate woodland tree.
As a source of inspiration 'Wildwood' doesn't disappoint. Deakin writes that:
'To enter a wood is to pass into a different world in which we ourselves are transformed. It is no accident that in the comedies of Shakespeare, people go into the greenwood to grow, learn and change. It is where you travel to find yourself, often, paradoxically, by getting lost.'
'Once inside a wood, you walk on something very like the seabed, looking up at the canopy of leaves as though it were the surface of the water, filtering the descending shafts of sunlight and dappling everything.'
Deakin seemed able to articulate some of the almost magical quality of a wood - and made the idea of creating a (non-invasive) art installation in a wood seem like a wonderful idea. The hope is that it would encourage people (who might not necessarily do so) to take a walk through the wood - to enjoy the artworks but also to enjoy some of the 'art' of nature. But I particularly like the idea of people discovering the work unawares.
I had identified what I considered to be the optimum location for the piece (see picture above - taken late last year). This site consisted of two reasonably mature trees - stood perhaps 15 feet apart - on the south side of a woodland path, behind a short hawthorne hedge, thus protecting the work from anyone getting too close.
There was very little foliage between the trees - so the work would be nice and visible - and with the sun moving across the sky behind the piece (from perhaps 9am until early afternoon) the work would then change with the light during the course of the day.
I had in fact used the location last year (see picture below) - with unfortunate consequences that I blogged about earlier:
"Before installing this work I had attempted to seek the permission of the farmer who the land belonged to – and was assured by an individual that it wouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately it transpired that the farmer was in a dispute with his neighbour and he (bizarrely) assumed that the artwork was an attempt at a wind-up on behalf of his neighbour and subsequently took the work down. After I had the opportunity to explain the situation he was quite contrite – to the extent that he offered to be involved in the installation of the work this year."
After having spoken to the farmer (Eamon Pell) on Cowslip Sunday last year, I was reasonably confident that he would (perhaps with some financial inducement) be content to let me use the site briefly this year. So I had visiting Mr. Pell and negotiating an arrangement on my 'to do' list. Unfortunately, whilst out walking last week, I discovered that one of the trees in question had been felled.
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| The above photographs shows the location I had in mind for my 'branches of poet-tree' installation. The picture on the right shows the site on Cowslip Sunday last year, the picture on the left shows the site just a few weeks ago. The large tree on the left of each photograph (not the one on the far left) is the one that has recently been chopped down. |
Obviously the loss of this tree is really disappointing, not only because it seems - on the face of it - to be the wanton destruction of a healthy, mature specimen but also because I really thought there were (or certainly ought to be) restrictions on the cutting down of trees in Spring - when birds have already begun to nest.
Anyway I am intent upon pursuing this 'branches of the poet-tree' idea - but I now need to find a new location within the wood. For me it highlights again the problems to be overcome when trying to create and install artwork in the living landscape. I'll leave the last word to Roger Deakin:
'Human beings depend on trees quite as much as on rivers and seas. Our intimate relationship with trees is physical as well as cultural and spiritual: literally an exchange of carbon dioxide for oxygen.'
