“In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity … they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves.”

— Herman Hesse

I find trees fascinating. Have you ever stood and looked at the silhouette of a tree against the sky? – perhaps best done in the winter months when the leaves have fallen and the structure and skeleton of the tree come into full view. The tracery is extraordinary and always well balanced, at least for trees that have not been pruned artificially – say, by a utility company! The branches reach for the sky, towards the light and the sun’s rays that provide the energy for photosynthesis. Of no less interest are the trunks which support the canopy — sturdy, gnarled, with the pattern of the bark reflecting the history of the tree.

“I keep drawing the trees, the rocks, the river, I’m still learning how to see them; I’m still discovering how to render their forms. I will spend a lifetime doing that. Maybe someday I’ll get it right.”

— Alan Lee

I draw trees and it is a constant struggle to ensure that I capture this sense of arboreal energy in a realistic fashion. I have done this in various media, mostly in pen and ink but more recently in charcoal. Charcoal is more fluid; it allows for shading, and it can act a little like paint, through still black and white, which for me means a better form of expression of the play of light, shade and texture.

You may have seen my recent exhibition at the library based entirely on tree drawings. Among these was one of the twisted catalpa in front of the library. The tree is a really special one, with its twist not caused by any outside force — such as the wind — but totally endemic to the particular species. Twisted catalpas, though rare, are not unique and there are others in the U.S.

What may also be of interest is that the Garden Club has an ongoing project of trying to replicate our tree, important due to our tree having lived well beyond its expected lifespan of sixty years, and thus we really have no idea when its end may come.  Working with the Arnold Arboretum, there are close to a hundred tiny cuttings from which it is hoped new ones of similar nature may emerge; however, it will possibly be ten years before we will know whether we will have been successful. Our catalpa “has stood its ground” for many years and also served in the past as a locus, I am told, for posting notices about the town such as Town Meeting.

We can but persevere!