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Patterns in Trees as Visual Metaphors for Human Identity

Katie Taylor Frisch

An Option II Project Paper

APA Style

Department of Textiles, Clothing and Design

Major Advisor: Wendy Weiss

Minor Advisor: Karen Kunc

Proposal Review Committee Members: Karen Kunc, Wendy Weiss, Yiqi Yang

November 16, 2010

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction 2

Review of Literature 2

Trees and Psychology 2

Metaphors of Trees Relating to Personal Identity 5

Trees and Religious Signifi cance 8

Relevance to Current Environmental Trends 10

Review of Artists 12

Design Concept 18

Process 20

The Forest 21

Artifacts 21

Adaptations 23

Branching 25

Thought Shapes 26

Seeds 28

Refl ection 29

Audience Response 30

Future Directions 31

References 32

Appendices

Appendix A: Defi nition of Terms 39

Appendix B: Some Styles in Drawing Trees 40

Appendix C: Drawings of Trees – Individual Characteristics of Trunks 45

Appendix D: Proposed Timeline 46

Appendix E: Adjusted Budget 47

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INTRODUCTION

Humanity has not known existence without trees. We depend on trees for many of our

physiological and safety needs, such as oxygen, food, and shelter. Trees provide not only a better quality

of life, but also offer spiritual value and can be a useful metaphor for personal identity. The purpose of

this project is to better understand the importance of trees as descriptors of human experience and identity,

and to use these metaphors in understanding personal experiences through creative processes that evoke

meditative states. Through this project I seek to create a contemplative space in which visitors can refl ect

on the parallels between human behavior and the natural world. This will be accomplished through a

series of long vertical panels of fabric and paper installed in the Robert Hillestad Textiles Gallery. The

panels will examine the presence of pattern in nature and humanity, and the progression in such patterns

over time.

REVIEW OF LITERATURE

Trees and Psychology

According to Abraham Maslow (1970), individuals require basic needs: those of physiology,

safety, love/belonging, and esteem. Once these needs are met, the need then arises for self-actualization,

which is the “tendency for [the individual] to become actualized in what he is potentially” (p. 46).

Because the means of actualization vary so greatly from person to person, the individual must fi rst possess

some amount of personal identity. Harold Searles (1979) studied the infl uence of the natural environment

on identity formation. He stated that during adolescence in particular, one’s surroundings initiate “a

sense of inner confl ict concerning his awareness that he is part of Nature and yet apart from all the rest of

nonhuman Nature; and the two great ingredients of this inner confl ict—man’s yearning to become wholly

at one with his nonhuman environment, and his contrasting anxiety lest he become so and thus lose his

own humanness” (p. 114). Nature becomes important in identifying the distinction between the self and

the non-self. Further, in surveying one’s surrounding, a better understanding of both the observed (the

surrounding) and the observer occurs. Even if boundaries are formed to defi ne the self, often it is diffi cult

to think of anything outside as having experiences different from one’s own. In their article, “Moralizing

Trees: Anthropomorphism and Identity in Children’s Relationships to Nature,” Gebhard, Nevers, and

Billmann-Mahecha (2003) suggest that part of how identity is developed is through the making of

comparisons between oneself and not-oneself. One must understand both similarities and differences

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between one’s personhood and other people/things. The researchers found that children 12 and under

interpreted trees as feeling and experiencing things in terms of the children’s own physical experiences

(p. 91). They had not yet reached a point of understanding other beings as able to experience something

other than their own physical experience.

In addition to the tendency to set ourselves apart from our environment, we also have a tendency

to describe ourselves as trees, and trees as ourselves. We are physically similar in our verticality and

ability to “look out” over the rest of the world. We are similar in our being alive and our cycles of growth.

Our language links us, in that we both have “trunks” and set down “roots.” Trees are attributed with

intentionality in “reaching” toward the sky and in “protecting” the animals that make homes inside their

branches. Our ancestral lines are “family trees” and our scientifi c diagrams follow the tree’s structure.

One famous example is Charles Darwin’s Tree of Life, which he used to categorize species according to

evolutionary relationships (Welcome Trust, n.d.).

Our relationship with trees is reciprocal. We depend on trees for shelter, food, etc. Trees (in

domesticity) depend on us for planting, care of disease, etc. (Sommer, 2003, p. 199). Japanese foresters

consider an important part of their work to be in giving trees a “second life,” a purpose greater than the

tree could have fulfi lled if it were left on its own to die. “If upon felling the tree is rendered into building

timber, this is represented as the beginning of a new life as much as ending of the old life. The tree

lives on as wood in the buildings of which it forms part” (Knight, 1998, p. 198). This second life also

encourages the cultivation of new trees; to ensure future buildings can be built, the forests need to be

replanted and the cycle continued (p. 210).

In his article, “Trees and Human Identity,” Robert Sommer (2003) contributes to the discourse on

identity and surroundings by surveying the residents of Charleston, SC after the 1989 Hurricane Hugo.

Thirty percent of those surveyed identifi ed trees as the most signifi cant single loss, stating that the trees

gave the city ambience, improved and differentiated neighborhoods, provided shade, energy conservation,

raised property values, and increased tourism. Residents also discussed the spiritual relevance of trees and

“…how trees expressed the beauty of life, hope, God’s work, and the belief that nature nourishes the soul.

They saw the trees as an indication of civic concern, providing connection to the past, both in terms of

personal memories and family history” (p. 182).

According to Sommer (2003), there are several theories relating to the psychological signifi cance

of trees, including Phenomenological Approaches and Depth Psychology. Phenomenological Approaches

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place a high level of importance on metaphor involving trees and human ideals. Sommer discusses

the esteemed oak tree as a symbol of permanence and protection, existing for hundreds of years while

sheltering living creatures that dwell within and beneath it. The tree’s thick, deep roots make it a strong

symbol for long-standing government (p. 195) and for the idea of settling in a place to establish a life, or

“putting down roots” (p. 196). In addition to permanence, “The image of the tree has the capacity to raise

human consciousness in expressing values such as…stability, trustworthiness, fertility, and generosity” (p.

196). One phenomenological proponent, Nathaniel Altman, explains our affi liation with trees over other

organisms as stemming from the fact that, “We both share a vertical perspective” (as cited in Sommer,

2003, p. 196). Within this line of reasoning, we are two separate beings with similar approaches to life.

In contrast to Phenomenological Approaches, which use metaphors to relate trees to collective

identities, Depth Psychology uses metaphor to connect trees to the inner lives of individuals, focusing on

the role of the subconscious. This approach is attributed to psychoanalyst Carl Jung, who affi rmed the

importance of archetypes, or innate patterns and images that are part of the collective unconscious. Jung

thought that “the instincts [inborn, unlearned tendencies] form very close analogies to the archetypes—so

close, in fact, that there is good reason for supposing that the archetypes are the unconscious images of

the instincts themselves; in other words, they are patterns of instinctual behaviour” (Bennet, 1967, p. 66).

The tree is an important archetype regarded by Jung as a metaphor for the human life span, with roots as

a symbol for lineage, trunk as personal identity, branches as connections to the environment, and fruit as

the individual’s products of creation (Sommer, 2003, p. 194). Jung’s study of the tree symbol came out

of his work in psychoanalysis, in which he asked patients to draw and explain something of signifi cance.

He noticed that quite often when attempting to express inner experiences, patients would depict images of

trees without any prompting to do so (Jung, 1967, p. 254).

One psychological test within Depth Theory is the Kinetic-House-Tree-Person test. Developed

from the House-Tree-Person test where each of the three items were drawn separately, the Kinetic version

asks individuals to draw the three images on the same piece of paper, allowing for their interaction to

be evaluated simultaneously. In this clinical test, the tree is used to represent the individual’s process of

transformation. The person represents the self or some aspect of the ego, while the house represents the

more physical aspects of the metaphor, often related to domestic information (Burns, 1987, p. 3). Since

the person drawing identifi es the most important aspects of the drawing, this test can provide very useful

insights and aid with therapy. Of specifi c importance when interpreting tree drawings are branches,

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trunks, and leaves. Categorized according to general style, the direction or movement of the branches is

said to refer to the direction of the person’s energy. Circular branches indicate a lack of direction or the

feeling of “going nowhere.” Branches can move downward into the past, out toward other people, or

upward toward personal growth and possibilities (p. 133-4). Tapered trunks can represent either burnout

or livelihood in old age, depending on whether the trunk widens at the bottom or top, which can also

indicate low expectations or anticipation of the future (p. 136-7). Knotholes in trunks are thought to be

especially important, representing a traumatic event, often placed on the trunk at a height indicative of

the age at which the traumatic event occurred (p. 138). Finally, leaves can relate the individual’s level

of dependency or search for nurturance (p. 150). Maple or “hand-like leaves” are associated with caring

people who offer a hand or “reach out” (p. 139). Burning leaves can represent hostile feelings as a result

of dependency needs not being met (p. 151). For visual examples and general explanations of styles in

tree drawings, see Appendix B.

In his book, The Nonhuman Environment, Harold Searles (1979) discusses the individual’s

attitude toward his nonhuman environment. He describes this environment as nature plus the individual’s

personal artifacts. Though hesitant to attribute a single attitude toward the environment to the mature

individual, he does state that the most fundamental attitude is one of relatedness. “By ‘relatedness’ I

mean, on the one hand, a sense of intimate kinship, a psychological concomitant to the structural kinship

which…exists between man and the various ingredients of his nonhuman environment—structural

kinship in terms of physiology, anatomy, atomic structure, and so on, as well as kinship with respect to

the evolutional history of mankind and the biological fate of the individual human being (the inescapable

destiny of our physical body to become a part of the nonhuman environment after our death)” (p. 101).

Whether or not we make conscious use of the tree in understanding our identity, Searles confi rms that we

do have a relationship with trees that cannot be denied.

Metaphors of Trees Relating to Personal Identity

Not only are trees important in developing a sense of identity, trees can also provide a strong

metaphor for describing that sense of identity and relating complicated feelings and experiences to others.

In her article, “Trees, from Symbols of Life and Regeneration to Political Artifacts,” Laura Rival (1998)

states “trees are used symbolically to make concrete and material the abstract notion of life, and that

trees are ideal supports for such symbolic purpose precisely because their status as living organisms is so

ambiguous” (p. 3). We generally think of trees as alive, though not as alive as animals but more alive than

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vegetables. This is the mystique Rival is referring to.

As defi ned by Merriam-Webster, a metaphor is “a fi gure of speech in which a word or phrase

literally denoting one kind of object or idea is used in place of another to suggest a likeness or analogy

between them.” Quoted in the article Art Verses Language, aesthetician and art historian E.H. Gombrich

explains the important role of metaphor:

“The possibility of metaphor springs from the infi nite elasticity of the human mind; it testifi es to its capacity to perceive and assimilate new experiences as modifi cations to earlier ones, of fi nding equivalence in the most disparate phenomena, and of substituting one for another. Without this constant process of substitution neither language nor art, nor indeed civilized life would be possible” (Dubowski, 1990, p. 11).

We never cease to substitute, using words to communicate an idea by replacing the actual, physical object

of discussion with the word for that object, concept, or person. Metaphors allow for investigation of

complicated ideas and can help us understand things we might otherwise have no way to relate to. We

normally think of metaphors in terms of language, but images can be used as metaphors as well. We can

substitute images for feelings or colors for emotions. The tree drawings by Jung’s patients, discussed

above, acted as metaphors for their inner lives. They provided a way of communicating deeply felt

emotion that could be pointed to and understood visually.

It will be useful to examine the specifi c ways trees are used as metaphors for human identity.

In his book, The Unfolding Self, Ralph Metzner (1998) delves in to the symbolic meanings of the parts

of trees, based on his therapeutic work with people in workshops and classes. His descriptions are

supplemented below by the interpretive principles used within Robert Burns’ (1987) book, Kinetic-House-

Tree-Person Drawings (K-H-T-P): An Interpretive Manual.

Seeds The seed represents an organism’s inception. Just as trees grow out of something much

smaller, so do we begin as a microscopic version of ourselves. These building blocks contain all our

future potential within their tiny walls. This is true of our basic existence and of our transformative

processes; if the tree generally is said to represent a process of personal growth, the seed is the onset of

that renovation. In its metaphorical sense, the seed has been referred to as the “spiritual seed,” or the

“seed of God” (Metzner, 1998, p. 202).

Roots The roots of the tree refer symbolically to our genealogy, including family and cultural

ancestors tracing back to the origins of humanity. Trees get sustenance through their roots, as we can be

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said to receive power through exploration of our past, both in terms of personal experiences and previous

human existence (Metzner, 1998, p. 201-202). Similar to tree growth being dependent on the surrounding

soil, rain level, pollution, number of nearby trees, wildlife, etc., so are we often the product of our

experiences and surroundings. From a therapeutic standpoint, emphasis on the roots can suggest clinging

to the past, either by the self-characterization based on what the individual has done in the past or by

being consumed with something in the past that was left unfi nished. Burns (1987) states that emphasis on

the roots can be an indication of immaturity and that focus on the past can be limiting in terms of growth

(p. 190).

Trunk As the most distinguishing feature, the tree trunk represents our development in both

consciousness and physicality. A sprout breaking through the ground is similar to our birth process and

introduction into the physical world. Most often single and self-suffi cient, the trunk represents our most

basic self. Growth is visible in this section of the tree in the form of annual rings, similar to our cyclical

process of growth, as we add another protective layer with each life lesson learned. This physical structure

“develops over time into a visible record of the individual’s inner state, patterns of mood, or dispositions”

(Metzner, 1998, p. 203). Burns (1987) describes the trunk as indicative of “feelings of energy, élan vital,

libido, life force in growth and development” (p. 190). See Appendix C for descriptions of the individual

characteristics of trunks in tree drawings.

Branches In addition to the trunk, the branches are another part of the tree that provides visible

growth, corresponding to our personality and relationships. Branches reach out and serve as the contact

point between the self and the rest of the world. One’s branch confi guration may be complex or simple,

well pruned or forgotten and overgrown, fl owering or withered. It is indicative of a willful desire to grow

or remain the same, illustrating interpersonal growth, development of skills or abilities, and desire to

communicate (Metzner, 1998, p. 204). Burns (1987) explains branches as signifying an attempt toward

growth, where the amount, size, and symmetry refl ect an appeal for nurturance and growth (p. 189).

Leaves and Flowers Sprouting from the crown, leaves and fl owers refer to our thoughts and

ideas. Relative to the amount of light and nurturance received, leaves and fl owers are a result of the

external environment of the tree (Metzner, 1998, p. 204). Returning to Maslow’s description of needs, the

leaves and fl owers can be thought of as the fulfi llment of self-actualization; once the more basic needs

are met, an individual is capable of exploring ideas and the mind can ponder images rather than focus

solely on survival. In therapeutic terms, leaves are thought to be associated with feelings of dependency,

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or clutching the source of nurturance (Burns, 1987, p. 150). Flowers represent a love for beauty and the

pursuit of or necessity for beauty and love (p. 149).

Fruits The fruits of the tree correspond to our creative outputs. They contribute to the betterment

of society, and as seed packets they transmit opportunities for enlightenment to accessible soil.

“Artists and creative people, who ‘put out’ a great deal of creative, inspirational energy, are involved

in externalizing something of value to others. They correspond metaphorically to fruit-bearing trees”

(Metzner, 1998, p. 205). While Burns (1987) does not discuss the presence of fruit generally, he does

specify that apples falling or already on the ground represent guilt or rejection. This relates to “fallen

angel” syndrome, which often occurs after traumatic experiences (p. 189).

Trees and Religious Signifi cance

“The Gothic cathedral visibly reproduces the ancient scenes of worship in its lofty interior, which rises vertically toward the sky and then curves into a vault from all sides, like so many tree crowns converging into a canopy overhead. Like breaks in the foliage, windows let in light from beyond the enclosure. In other words, the phrase “cathedral forest” entails more than just a casual analogy; or better, the analogy has its basis in an ancient correspondence between forests and the dwelling place of a god” (Harrison, 1992, p. 178).

Herbert W. Schroeder (1991) defi nes “spiritual” as “the experience of a being related to or in

touch with an ‘other’ that transcends one’s individual sense of self and gives meaning to one’s life at a

deeper than intellectual level” (p. 25). Understood in psychological terms, this defi nition does not deny

or require the existence of any supernatural entity(ies) and will be useful in examining the mystical

relevance of trees. The spiritual signifi cance of trees shows up in the use

of the tree symbol in countless religious traditions. As Metzner

(1998) explains in religious language, “Like trees, we are ‘rooted

in darkness and crowned with light’: our being is grounded in

the unconscious darkness of matter, grows and extends itself

throughout life, and reaches upward into the ‘higher’ realms of

consciousness. The tree stands as the preeminent symbol of growth,

renewal, and transformation” (p. 198). Religion, which itself can

have profound infl uence on personal identity and transformation,

not only has the universal pattern of affecting thoughts and

The Tree of the Universe, rubbing of relief from Chamber of the offerings, by Won Yong, China, AD 168.

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behavior from generation to generation, but cross-culturally utilizes

the tree as a common icon. Christianity’s origin story involves the

Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in Genesis, next to the Tree

of Life (which also reappears in the end-of-times book of Revelation).

Similarly, Islam uses the sidrah or lote tree and the zaqqum to

represent the dichotomy of Good and Evil. These trees are said to grow

plentifully in Islamic Paradise (Smith, Smith & Luckett, 1989, p. 65).

The Blessed Olive Tree is also signifi cant within Islam, in that it “…

symbolizes the world axis and which is therefore neither of the East nor

of the West…because of its central position in the cosmic order” (Nasr,

1987, p. 61). Judaism’s Tree of Knowledge is used more as a diagram

to describe heavenly and earthly realms and does not refer to a physical

tree (Smith, Smith & Luckett, 1989, p. 65). Bodhi trees are highly

important to Buddhist culture, as this is the tree Siddhartha Guatama

sat under when he gained enlightenment (p. 66; citations for image

at right and all subsequent images can be found in the References

section). Within Malaysian culture, it was said that the fi rst couple was

born from the Tree of Life, fertilized by an upper world vine (Rodd &

Stackhouse, 2008, p. 224). Conversely, the Ankave people group of

Papua New Guinea say that the head of a decomposed body gave way

to the fi rst areca palm tree, thus the two organisms are vitally linked

(Rival, 1998, p. 10).

Not only single trees, but groves are important to religious

traditions as well, often considered to be sacred. In northern Germany,

particular groves were thought to be the literal home of God. Celts

believed sacred groves were the connecting sites between the physical

and sacred worlds (Schroeder, 1991, p. 26). Most Grecian sanctuaries

The Bodhi Tree, relief from the Great Stupa, Sanchi, India, 1st Century A.D.

Textile depicting Malaysian Tree of Life.

Isis as Tree Goddess feeding a human being. Image taken from tomb of Tuth-mosis III, Thebes, 15th Century B.C.E. Egypt.

had an adjoining grove, or the grove itself was considered to be the sanctuary. Robert Harrison (1992)

suggests that the large number of columns on Grecian temples actually symbolized a sacred grove or

section of trees (p. 178).

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In Kerala, South India, Yasushi Uchiyamada (1998) studied the importance of sacred groves,

called Kaavu, within the Untouchables caste of Hindu tradition. These Kaavu are usually found on the

west side of a temple, representing either shakti, life-force, or doosham, fault or sin (p. 181). The groves

are home to various deities and spirits, the personalities of which determine the character and arrangement

of the grove (p. 183). As spirit homes they are important, and must not be altered without fi rst moving the

deity or spirit to a new habitat, otherwise they will become homeless, forced to haunt the area and take

possession of people (p. 181).

Groves or forests could be considered sacred, but could also pose danger and mystery. During

medieval times forests were considered “outside,” literally outside the settlements, and fi lled with

“outsiders”—exiles, the mentally insane, criminals, recluses, etc. (Harrison, 1992, p. 61). Others fl ed

to the forest for religious sovereignty or to escape worldly distraction. Harrison explains that “…

hagiography tells of many devout souls who took to the wilderness and lived as hermits far from the

corruption of human society. There, in the forests’ asylum, they lived in the intimate presence of their

God.”

The spiritual relevance of trees is another example of relatedness. The way we correlate to trees

can help understand the uncertainty of life in general. Quoting Laura Rival (1998) once again, “Religious

beliefs about these extraordinary plants do not really violate rational understanding and common sense,

but, rather, elaborate on, and play with, their ambiguous status…What they convey…is that life is really

mysterious and awe-inspiring; it is not fully understood, it is never entirely interpreted, and it can never

be essentialised. Neither life nor death constitute natural, innate conceptual categories. And this is the case

for trees as for humans” (p. 27).

Relevance to Current Environmental Trends

“Trees are meaningful not only for what they represent, but also in themselves, as sources of actual and sensual involvement with the world…The political activist is inspired; more, she identifi es with the tree. Both share the same moral qualities: patience, strength, determination, and the power of changing the surrounding landscape peacefully. Trees are models of self-regeneration and self-suffi ciency, the essential qualities of modern sustainable living…No wonder, then, that trees are submerged within human politics; their fate and the fate of disempowered human communities are one and the same.” (Rival, 1998, p. 17)

Our relatedness to trees is important now as much as ever. Social movements are fi ghting for

the protection of the environment and would be assisted by understanding the psychological relatedness

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between people and trees. If people can be encouraged to better understand the similarity between

themselves and trees, they will be more likely to support movements to conserve trees and nature

generally. Researchers Susan Clayton and Susan Opotow (2003) have been looking into the reason

behind environmental degradation, and have found that while reasons have generally been attributed

to technological advances, degradation is partially due to behaviors and attitudes (p. 3). They have

found that people are more often interested in the environment because of economic reasons than for

sentimental reasons. Clayton (2003) recognizes the diffi culty in shifting from an identity where we

think of things in terms of their material or monetary value, to an environmental identity where we must

recognize and appreciate differences whether they are directly valuable to us or not. Though diffi cult,

“An environmental identity can be recognized, nurtured, and used to encourage conservation behavior

when the natural objects being protected are tied to the self, thus allowing the motivation to be internal

rather than external.” One example of this can be an individual’s purchase of an acre of rainforest,

which becomes “theirs” (p. 60). Campaigns to help the homeless are frequently best served by telling an

individual’s story, putting a name and face to the problem. We then recognize more clearly that homeless

individuals are not that different from us, and we are more likely to want to help. The environmental

group Common Ground (n.d.) utilizes this idea with the slogan “Every tree counts.” When we look at

the trees individually or think of them as similar to ourselves, we tend to be more concerned about their

preservation.

Angie Zelter (1998), a leader in the current green movement, states, “The tree is our most potent

symbol, binding and grounding us with its roots; sheltering and protecting us within its branches; raising

our spirits at the same time as stabilizing our feet in the mud of the earth; giving us strength and resilience

in its sturdy trunk; feeding and nurturing us with its fruits; giving us everlasting hope in the constant

regeneration and rebirth of its seeds” (p. 222). Trees are often used as the symbol for green movements

because they provide homes, food, etc. to other species within the ecosystem. If we cannot take care of

trees, we have little hope for the rest of the earth and for our own survival.

Aleksandra Manczak (2002), an artist whose work will be discussed below, has given attention to

the role of art in creating ecological awareness. Recognizing that disasters resulting from global climate

change are based on our continual indolent, comfort-seeking, short-sighted actions, Manczak believes

there is hope for changing our attitudes, which can be brought about by science and art. “Science offers

us new facts and arguments that we must consider. Art can render this knowledge accessible to wider

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viewing circles, so that we may all possess a deeper, more sensitive, more acute awareness of nature”

(p. 135). Manczak and other artists attempt to do this by using actual nature material for pieces or

installations, involving nature as “co-creator” of the work. Another tactic is that of leading by example;

if eco-friendly materials and techniques are used to create art, viewers may begin to ask questions similar

to those being asked by the artist, which may lead to ethically responsible behavior. Returning once again

to the philosophy of Japanese foresters, involving nature in art can give the material its second life or

purpose beyond its average lifespan.

REVIEW OF ARTISTS

Countless artists call nature their muse. Several of these artists have inspired the direction of

this project, and will be referred to throughout the project’s duration. As a relatively new artist, I look to

those who are mature in their creative process, and who have developed a style unique to themselves in

a medium relevant to my own artistic goals. I am interested in artists who explore issues of identity and

repetition, who create works larger than themselves and provide some way for the viewer to interact with

the work. Because this project will involve an array of media and techniques, I have gathered a wide

variety of artistic examples.

Eva Isaksen, currently working in Seattle, Washington, is a printmaker who prints on thin papers,

which she then collages together onto paper or canvas. Color and line are very important elements of

Isaksen’s work. Not only is she inspired by nature, Isaksen literally uses plants and organic objects from

her garden to run through the press. She uses these in addition to yarns and fabrics as a way to create

texture. Isaksen’s drawn translations of the natural world into patterned spaces and dense forms evoke

a playful yet sophisticated tone. Her delicate color palette and fl oating forms give each piece an airy

feeling, showcasing the beauty of nature as something to be appreciated and enjoyed.

Left: Eva Isaksen, Sky Dance I, 2004, collage on paper.

Right: Eva Isaksen, Diffuse, 2007, collage on canvas.

Far Right: Eva Isaksen, Winter Seeds III, 2001, collage on paper.

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Like Isaksen, Aleksandra Manczak uses actual,

physical artifacts of the environment, collaborating

with nature. Rather than suggest playfulness, however,

Manczak creates work that evokes feelings of imminent

destruction and responsibility. Manczak is a Polish artist

who works in textiles, photography, and installation.

Referring to some of her work as “eco-installations,”

Manczak’s creations look closely at the impact

humanity has on its natural surroundings. Arboretum I

is an installation of tree seedlings trapped inside paper

coffi ns. Though bare and desolate, her stunted saplings

are beautiful in their simplicity, offering an unexpected

sense of humility while silently crying for help. She uses

materials that ask me what I personally have done to

bring the world to such an empty and barren state. Of one

installation, Arboretum I-V, Manczak stated,

“The world of my recent work is marked by refl ections, silence and concentration. Arboretum I-V are a part of this sphere. They are my garden of memory. It involves no virtuosity of technique or admiration of a specifi c fi ber. My intention was to render the doubtful character of what is seemingly an important human activity: helplessness in face of massive destruction of the natural environment” (cited in International Symposium of Textile Art, 1993).

Reporting for the Jerusalem Post regarding this installation, Angela Levine (1993) wrote, “Manczak’s

work is interesting for several reasons. It contains the two elements which often exist side by side

in Polish art: a terrestrial physicality (the cloth and stones) and spiritual yearning (the frail branches

stretching upward)...”

Aleksandra Manczak, Arboretum I, 1991-1995, installation.

Aleksandra Manczak, Arboretum III, 1992, installation.

Aleksandra Manczak, Triptych for the 21st Century, 1988, handmade paper.

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Margery Amdur completely

transformed gallery space into garden in her

1998 installation, “Threads of Continuity.”

Covering the walls, ceiling, and fl oor with

unconventional materials such as window

screening, aquarium tubing, and wire, Amdur

created a space in which viewers were invited

to contemplate the symbolic character of

this manufactured environment by shifting

the scale one would normally experience

within a naturally-occurring garden. She

suspended large roses upside down from the

Above: Margery Amdur, Threads of Continuity: A Right to Passage, 1998, installation.

Below: Margery Amdur, Threads of Continuity: A Right to Passage, 1998, installation detail.

Margery Amdur, High Ly Strung, 1999, installation.

ceiling and covered the walls with “organic” material,

creating a shadowy, almost threatening surrounding. The

transformation of a viewer from being able to loom over

naturally growing fl owers and grasses to being examined

at the level of an insect would no doubt cause some

uneasiness. I imagine one was made to consider the harsh

treatment we tend to give the natural word after such a

reversal of roles.

In an installation of contrasting subject matter,

Amdur created High Ly Strung. Utilizing similar materials

of wire and window screening to envelop the walls and

suspend from the ceiling, she again welcomed viewers

into a somewhat familiar, though greatly enlarged

environment. High Ly Strung speaks of the electronic age and the inability to escape the wiring and

circuitry of contemporary life. Amdur is successful in being able to transform an empty space into a

surreal version of something experienced in every day life, a conversion that inspires great contemplation

about the necessity or futility of things remaining as they are.

Trees 16

Joan Giordano sought ways of making her own paper

for drawing and printing after her preferred type of paper,

fi berglass, was banned years ago. Today she air-dries abaca

and kozo fi bers to create highly textured papers, accumulating

layer upon layer of pulp to create depth that can be stripped

and scraped for even more texture. She pairs these papers

with metal that has also been given texture through burning

and torching, bonding the two disparate materials with ship

epoxy. Giordano works with a philosophy of evolution in mind,

recognizing that her materials come from the earth, endure a

process of manipulation, and will one day return to the earth

like everything else. She understands the fact that time changes

materials and people, and notes the similarity between the two:

“We think of paper as being fragile, but it is very strong, and probably will last longer than the metal.

In a similar vein, the hidden strength of humanity surfaces when least expected” (Sider, 1999, p. 37).

Giordano’s work has evolved into simple, fundamental forms. Such a structure highlights the diversity of

texture and subtlety of color within each piece. Within her Collective Identities installation especially, the

scale (the pieces are taller than most people) and the vertical orientation of the pieces connect viewers on

a more personal level, as the shapes resemble several tall people standing in a row, reciprocating the gaze

of their audience.

Joan Giordano, Flags of the Spirit, 2009, installation.

Joan Giordano, Collective Identities, 2008, installation.

Trees 17

Jo Stealey is a textile artist who has been working with paper

for 25 years. With a diverse background of textile, basket making, and

ceramic experience, her work is similarly diverse. Her most recent

installation “Forest” is of particular interest. Made of over-beaten fl ax,

abaca, and river willow, the installation contains 300 rocks and 24 trees.

Stealey states, “It is my intention that viewers walk through the forest

in order to envelope themselves in the environment and ponder the role

of nature in our lives” (Moen). Her work inspires contemplation on the

duality of the objects as well. Trees and rocks are normally thought of

as permanent fi xtures, or at least of requiring great power to move or

alter them. Because of the material, Stealey’s objects could easily be

repositioned with a gentle nudge. The large scale of Stealey’s recent

works gives viewers a familiar way to relate to it, yet they are different

enough to promote thoughts on what a slightly different reality could be

like. “I think of my work as visual poetry

or metaphor. For me the process, materials,

formal qualities and techniques help to

visually articulate the conceptual idea of the

work and become the devices to manifest it.

A dialogue develops with these components

in the studio that informs how the piece

develops. I am constantly considering how to

subtly push these components to enhance the

metaphorical aspects of the piece” (Stealey,

2009). She explains, “I am searching for a

visceral response that touches a place within

us where no words exist to describe our

emotion” (Women’s Caucus for Art, 2009,

p. 2). Yet Stealey does at times use words.

In pieces like In the Middle of the Road

Above: Jo Stealey, Artifacts, 2008, free standing cast sculptural vessel of kozo fi ber.Below: Jo Stealey, Forest, 2009, installation.

Trees 18

and Artifacts, she uses kozo fi bers to “write” the words of a poem or phrase. The fi rst of these pieces

involves stones of cast kozo placed on the fl oor in front of text by Brazilian poet Carlos Drummond de

Andrade, causing viewers to consider the metaphorical signifi cance of the repetition of the word “stone”

in the poem. Kristin Schwain (2008) states, “By composing the stones of kozo and fl ax paper and making

them the weight of pebbles, she suggests that obstacles are easier to overcome than they fi rst appear.

And by placing them between the viewer and the poem, she

underscores how objects and words mediate our experience

of the world” (p. 39). Artifacts, also composed of kozo text,

asks viewers to consider the role of art or facts about art

through repetition of variations on the title of the piece.

Richard Sweeney takes on the great challenge of

manipulating fl at pieces of paper into three-dimensional

objects, experimenting with different ways to manipulate a

single material. After drawing potential forms in AutoCAD

and creating maquettes, Sweeney often creates an acrylic

jig to accurately score large sheets of paper to be folded/

pleated by hand. “My interest lies in the manipulation of

the material and how best I can preserve its nature while

exploring form and volume. It is the tactile quality that

drives me, I fi nd it diffi cult to work with something unless I

can hold it in my hands, touching and bending the material

to feel how it behaves” (Sweeney, 2009). After the pieces

have been folded, if they are not self-supporting, they are

suspended from the ceiling, creating mesmerizing patterns

of light and shadow within the pleats.

Birthed in 1951, the Marimekko design company began to revolutionize prints in interior and

fashion fabrics. During a period when the textiles of Finland were patterned with fl owers, Marimekko’s

originator, Armi Ratia sought after large-scale abstract patterns for the company’s screen-printed fabrics,

bringing the industry more in line with trends of the art and architectural worlds (Jackson, 2003, p. 52).

The focus on vibrant print designs continues today, as “Marimekko’s vision is to be the most acclaimed

Above: Richard Sweeney, Beta, 2009, installation.

Below: Richard Sweeney, Surface, 2007, installation.

Below: Vuokko Nurmesniemi for Marimekko, Hepskukkuu, 1956, screen-printed cotton.

Trees 19

print designer in the world and one of the most appealing design-based consumer brands” (Marimekko,

2009). Hired in 1949 as the fi rst full-time designer for

Printex, the precursor to Marimekko, Maija Isola served

as head designer for the interior fabrics line until 1987,

creating 533 designs for the company (Jackson, 2003,

p. 52). Approximately fi fty of these designs remain for

sale in Marimekko’s current fabric collection, attesting to

the excellence of her designs. Through the course of her

journey as an artist and designer, Isola’s prints evolved over

the decades, during some years highlighting her interest

in drawing, in others her geometric arrangements, and

toward the close of her career large-scale organic imagery. Like Eva Isaksen, Isola utilized actual plant

life in some of her work. Her series entitled Luonto (nature) consisted of silhouettes of plants, created by

exposing the actual plants, fresh or dried, onto a screen for printing.

DESIGN CONCEPT

The material I gathered on uses of trees as metaphor for human identity informs the development

of my project. I will substitute patterned images for complex ideas or experiences to create visual

metaphors. Images will be printed on silk organza and handmade paper that will hang from the ceiling in

clusters according to similarities of pattern, color, or width of material. These printed clusters of fabric

and paper panels will represent trees and will collectively create a forest within the Robert Hillestad

Textiles Gallery.

The specifi c imagery for each tree will stem from my own daily journaling and drawings, initially

inspired by the print style of Eva Isaksen in her use of pattern within images from nature. This daily

discipline will provide a starting point and will allow me to recognize topics that reoccur within my

thought life, which I can then to translate into patterns to be used as metaphors. The practice will help

foster my creative process and will be useful in manipulating patterns over time. Images and themes

developed from these daily meditations will be translated into patterned designs for screen prints,

embroidery, and related techniques. I will limit the total number of basic designs used to create the

patterned trees so that variations of the designs may be more evident throughout the forest. This will draw

Maija Isola for Ma-rimekko, Lovelovelove, 1969, screen-printed cotton.

Maija Isola for Marime-kko, Putkinotko, from the Luonto series, 1958, screen-printed cotton.

Trees 20

attention to the evolution of the printed patterns, a phenomenon that similarly occurs in patterns within

nature and humanity over time.

Each individual tree will be made of a single panel of either silk organza or handmade paper (see

Appendix D for samples). The transparency of organza is desirable not only for its aesthetic value, but

also for its presence. Depending on where the viewer is standing, designs printed with thickened dye onto

organza may or may not be visible, and even the organza itself may not be easily seen. This quality of the

silk is similar to the visible patterns of trees; trees are so ubiquitous that we might simply look through

them as we go about our business. Yet a closer look at the texture of bark or the intricacies of a canopy

reveal beautifully detailed patterns. I would also like viewers to see through some of the trees to clusters

across the room where the persistence and evolution of patterns will be visible. Silk organza has the

capacity to be heat set to retain folds, which may be used in replicating some of the folds I intend to use

on handmade paper, discussed below. Both of these materials fi t nicely with ideas about bark and skin.

The bark surrounding the trunk is protective in the way skin is protective to a person. If this outer layer is

thick, it is considered a “thick skin,” impervious to external forces or attack. If it is thin, it is associated

with feelings of exposure and susceptibility. The translucent canvas will serve as a metaphor for human

vulnerability, as I attempt to be open and honest about the patterns in my own life, which I may not have

previously communicated to other people.

Trees of silk organza will be placed in proximity with trees made from handmade papers, most

likely of linen and abaca fi bers. These fi bers are strong and make crisp folds. When overbeaten, the

abaca fi bers become more translucent, and therefore more similar to the organza. Making the paper by

hand will allow for greater control in the size, shape, and color of the paper, and will allow me to embed

objects, such as organic material or journal entries. Paper alludes to a book or journal; it is the literal

material of books, and it has a memory, retaining the shape or fold given upon its making or subsequent

manipulation. It is also fi tting to have trees constructed of paper, when normally paper is composed of tree

fi bers.

Carl Jung described a tree seed and its fully-grown counterpart as a process of enfoldment

through time, in that the potential of the latter is held within the former. Ralph Metzner (1998) expanded

this association, stating, “We can think of each of us as a tree, or as having a tree, that started from seed

and grows and develops, each year adding another ‘ring.’ Seen in this way, a tree becomes a symbolic

journal, a record of a journey of an individual’s growth through time” (p. 201). Journaling is an important

Trees 21

technique for my self-refl ection; this concept of the tree as a “symbolic journal” will be emphasized

within the forest. The majority of trees made from handmade paper will unfold from book covers through

variations of the accordion fold. These trees will “read” like books. Patterned imagery will evolve from

one end to the other, and each tree will focus on a single story or idea. To contribute to the journal

reference, trees of both paper and organza will feature handwritten text, though the words may not always

be legible.

Nearly every part of the tree can be used as a metaphor for personal development, but because

the trunk is the most basic unit of the self within the metaphor, the fi ber trees will be reduced to the basic

form of the trunk, that is, a long rectangle with vertical orientation. The “trunk of the tree is symbolically

the developing form and structure of our psyche and our life” (Metzner, 1998, p. 203). It is within the

trunk that the annual rings are added, where the accumulation of experiences takes place. Experiences are

evidenced physically in the trunk’s annual rings; dry seasons can result in smaller trunk diameters within

palm trees, while expanding during wet seasons (Rodd & Stackhouse, 2008, p. 40). The simple form of

each piece will serve to highlight the complexity of the printed patterns and the interconnection of the

trees. The trees will extend from the ceiling to a pile of natural folds on the fl oor, “rooting” each piece

with the ground. This will connect viewers to the pieces in a way that artwork hanging on a wall cannot,

as both observer and observed are dependent on the ground.

The aim of such an arboreal space will be to evoke contemplation and articulate the ubiquity

of pattern and repetition within both the natural, non-human world and human nature. This project will

be important in discovering my own patterns of behavior and inner thought life through the meditative

practice of creating similarly structured pieces, each uniquely designed.

PROCESS

My research for each piece centered on daily journaling. This allowed me to identify relevant

topics and emotions that could be translated into appropriate patterns and tree structures. While my

intention was to make this a daily habit, I must admit that I was unable to maintain such strict discipline.

Many days I was able to journal. Some days I let my work with a particular piece take the place of

journaling. Some days I completely forgot I had this goal at all. But the journal entry was always my

starting point, the content I would turn to as the guiding force for each tree.

Several themes emerged based on my journaling. I divided these themes into “regions” of my

forest: Artifacts, Adaptations, Branching, and Thought Shapes. I also included a region entitled Seeds

Trees 22

where the journal entries not already used in other pieces were displayed, along with other materials to

explain my overall process. I have described these regions below as well as the forest itself, the italicized

text listed fi rst being the explanations printed on maps and posted on the gallery wall for viewers of the

installation.

The Forest

Nine years ago I started journaling.

I’m not sure what caused me to start at that

specifi c time, aside from wanting a container

for my thoughts—something other than my

own memory to help me keep track of where

I’ve been. Something external to point to

so I could say “There! That’s where I made

progress in developing as a person” the way

I can point to a photograph and say “See?

That’s the day I got married” or “That’s the

person whose friendship changed me.” Trees serve the same purpose of documentation when Grandma’s

apple tree takes me back to summer days of offering apples to the horse that was terrifi ed of people, or

how the deserted mulch island where that tree once stood now reminds me of how much time has really

passed. In his book “The Unfolding Self” (1998), Ralph Metzner explains, “We can think of each of us

as a tree, or as having a tree, that started from seed and grows and develops, each year adding another

‘ring.’ Seen in this way, a tree becomes a symbolic journal, a record of a journey of an individual’s

growth through time” (p. 201). This forest you are traveling through is a library of the journals I have

kept throughout 2010. It is a display of the documentation I have maintained of my journey, thoughts in

both patterned and written form. Knowing the journal’s purpose of containing secrets and the audience’s

desire to be let in on those secrets, these thoughts have been both revealed and hidden in the way I might

verbally share my thoughts with you. The tree is my locking mechanism, holding but disguising what I’m

not ready to share yet. I hope you enjoy what I’ve revealed.

Artifacts

I have a piece of bark on my shelf that I carried on the plane with me from Italy as my honeymoon

memento, and pressed leaves in a folder to remind me of last fall. Artifacts are the things taken away

Above: Forest map posted on the gallery wall.

Trees 23

from the forest, small monuments to remember our experience. I look at these objects on display and

immediately feel as if I’m taken back to the month I fi rst made them. Most months I have a new goal for

myself. Often these goals get recycled because I so rarely accomplish what I set out to do or change about

my person. The goal-cycle is both exciting and daunting, as I am easily inspired but not easily disciplined.

These artifacts contain tally marks to record the progress of those days, weeks, and months. One small dot

recorded in my day log can attest to 24 hours of working toward becoming better than I am—or failing

at doing so. The visual accumulation of dots keeps me motivated when the distance between my goals

and myself feels immeasurable. If this is how I’ve grown in these past

months, and if this is who I am after 27 years, how long will it take me

to actually become the person I want to be? The artifacts presented

here revolve around goal-oriented struggles, and they catalog periods

of breakthrough in trusting my own vision as an artist, of refl ecting

on the distance I still have to travel, and of my diffi culty in self-

regulation. They invoke encouragement, surprise, and disappointment,

the feelings I experienced while creating each piece.

The three pieces in this section have all been created from

handmade paper. The fi rst piece, Stacked Experience, is made of

individual sheets of gampi paper bound with waxed linen thread Above: Stacked Experience

around sculpted wire using an exposed binding stitch. The focus of this piece is on the roots of the tree,

as at the time I was considering my limited experience as an artist and the fact that I could only gain

experience by accumulating moment after moment of creative endeavor. This piece was important for

me not only in its meaning, but in the ease of its execution: I had the idea of what I wanted to create, and

while it took a signifi cant amount of time to form each piece of paper individually and bind it separately,

the process worked out exactly as I had imagined it. For the fi rst time I felt that I knew my materials and

process well enough that I could trust my creative vision.

The second piece in this section, Twenty-seven years in the Cambium, was designed as a cross-

section of a tree, with the emphasis placed on the cambium layer where growth occurs. I created this

piece during the time of my twenty-seventh birthday when I was considering the time it had taken me to

become the person I am today and trying to quantify the amount of time it would take me to become the

Trees 24

person I should be. The outermost layer of this piece, the cover of this

book and the bark of the “tree”, is made from gampi fi bers with wire

embedded inside and kozo fi bers cast on the outside. The wires were

used to create loops to which a found twig could be bound as a spine

for the book, and to create texture as the fi ber shrank around the wire

during the drying process. The outside of this layer was stained with

walnut stain to better resemble bark. The next layer is made up of

sheets of gampi and leaf fi bers, which are bound as nested pages. The

innermost layer is made of gampi papers glued end to end and rolled as

a scroll. These two inner sections, which compose the annual rings, are

tea and coffee stained. Stained circles serve as page numbers to mark

the year to which they refer, and signifi cant staining marks signifi cant

periods of growth during those years.

The third piece in this section is called Day Logs. This set of

fi ve scrolls is a record of my progress in making and keeping the goals

that I believe will help me to become that better person mentioned

above. Page numbers are denoted by the pine needles embedded in

gampi and leaf paper as well as the burned dots in silk organza. Both

paper and silk pages contain journaling in either burned or thickened

dye form. The covers of these scrolls have been made from cast gampi

and kozo fi bers, walnut stained, and burned. Each of the fi ve scrolls

fi ts in a box made from binder’s board and covered in coffee stained

gampi paper.

Adaptations

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the next phase of life,

wondering how other people decide where to put down roots. It’s

always been diffi cult for me to understand moving to a new place

purely for occupational reasons. If I am going to decide to settle myself

somewhere, shouldn’t I care about who is settled next to me? My

Above: Twenty-seven years in the Cambium

Below: Day Logs

Trees 25

perimeter is only so big, allowing me to interact face to face with a limited number of people. Shouldn’t I

be able to decide who will be in closest proximity to me, and whom I will allow myself to be most deeply

affected by? I know that I am greatly infl uenced by the people who surround me. When I’m around

encouraging people, I feel encouraged. When I hear someone’s traumatic story, I’m devastated for days.

When I talk with someone who is a deep processor, I understand things more profoundly. I’m trying to

fi nd the balance between adjusting my own boundary to make room for others, and requiring others to

bend for me. I haven’t fi gured out that balance, yet, without selfi shly wavering between one extreme and

the other. I don’t want to be the dominating force, taking up the space I think I need and offering only

what’s left over. But I do want it to mean something to others that they live in community with me. I do

want my presence in your life to have an impact. I do want our friendship to be meaningful and mutually

benefi cial. I don’t want my quiet existence to be consumed by the more powerful. Maybe that’s why trees

have such distance between one another—you take up your space and I’ll take up mine, and we’ll just be

happy with our canopies at different levels so we can talk when we need to. Like us, trees only grow as

big as the others nearby allow them to grow.

This set of trees came from journal entries that ruminated on

the idea of modifying myself to account for other people’s personalities

and vice versa. The grey book is made from pigmented abaca paper

stenciled with linen pulp, which covers hand cut binder’s board with

needle-felted shapes poking through selected holes. The boards have

been accordion folded, and a knotted nylon string runs through each

piece to maintain the folds as the piece hangs from the ceiling to the

fl oor. The two companion pieces are made from individually formed

sheets of pigmented abaca paper, air-dried to create texture and volume.

The four fabric pieces in this region are made from coffee-dyed silk organza and have been screen

printed with either thickened dye or silk scouring paste to create what I have been referring to as my

“community” print, as I imagine each shape to be a person whose space is defi ned by those around him

or her. The largest shapes in this design I think of as those people who are most infl uential to me—the

smaller shapes are the more peripheral people, those I still interact with and am infl uence by, but not as

much as the others. Piece #1 in this section is composed of two layers of organza hung as a pillar such

Trees 26

that the spaces within the print of the fi rst layer are fi lled in by the printed

shapes of the second. Piece #2 is printed with the smaller shapes and nuno

felted using merino, Shetland, alpaca/tussah, and Tencel roving. I used the

structure of wood cells to infl uence the way I laid out the wool shapes in

the top half of the piece. Piece #3 is printed with the larger shapes and nuno

felted using welsh wool and Tencel roving. In contrast to every other nuno

felted tree, piece #4 is made mostly of wool, with the silk pieces being cut to

resemble the shape of wood cells and laid on top of the merino and Shetland

wools before felting.

Branching

In the metaphor between individual and tree, branches are the contact points between the self and

the rest of the world. As great as it is to extend my branches and to be engulfed by others’, I often have a

hard time being poked constantly or offering my reach when I really don’t agree with the motives of the

other person. It seems wrong to have to cut back on relationships with people or to prune them out of

my life completely. If I genuinely believe that we all have value, shouldn’t I make an effort to continually

feed any and every friendship? And of those friendships I am able to nourish, how can I not internalize

the experiences of the people I love most when our proximity makes me feel as if I am experiencing

their situation simultaneously? The trees in this region of the forest are my attempts at understanding

two relationships that have been important to me at different points in my life. They stem from a desire

to fi gure out why it is that our most

precious connections have the power to

hurt and confuse more than any other

relationship.

The book piece in this section

is made up of abaca paper with wire

embedded inside to better support

the basic accordion structure. Bound

Trees 27

within the folds of these thicker abaca pages are

several sheets of thin abaca paper, journaled in

India ink on the topic of a friendship whose ending

years ago I never understood. I have to admit that

after writing on the topic enough to fi ll this entire

piece, I became tired of the subject and my heart

became much more forgiving. I can now think

about this friendship without the hurt and confusion that I experienced before journaling so much about

it. The companion pieces to this book are saplings, new sprouts of trees that represent my new attitude

toward this relationship. These saplings are made from journal entries

on abaca that have been wrapped around hemp. The budding leaves

on these saplings are made from abaca with India ink and embedded

string journaling on the topic of my new perspective concerning this

friendship.

The two fabric pieces are a look into my own attitude toward

another person I love whose decisions I disagree with. The journaling

done on this topic has been a look into how I can best be supportive

and loving toward this person while experiencing so many confl icting

emotions. These pieces are made from silk organza screen printed with

handwritten text and silk scoured. Separate pieces of black organza that

were bomaki-wrapped and discharged as well as pieces of silk organza

and gauze that were printed with thickened dye were laid on top of the

fabric in rounded diamond or bark-like shapes. Merino wool was then

laid on top, and nuno felted to join the silk pieces together and create

texture.

Thought Shapes

Because of their thick, deep roots and overall size, large trees

like the oak tree are symbols of permanence and protection. Carving

your initials into bark implies the goal of making your presence

Trees 28

permanent, yet the tree will continue to grow, the bark will change, and eventually it will be cut down or

decompose. The carving helps to remember a time that no longer exists. Interesting to attach something

so fl eeting—a thought or the shape around a thought—to something so substantial as if it can be

contained. To revisit it later and see how much the thought has changed, both in its physically outlined

shape and in how it reappears inside the mind. Looking up into the branches of a favorite tree between my

home and studio, the leaves blur together while the absence of leaves join to created complex and angular

forms, and I imagine this to be what thoughts look like inside my head. A large brain-sized cluster of

interlocking forms containing slightly-related-though-defi nitely-separate idea-shapes, moving and shifting

the way thoughts tangentially evolve in just a short time. I like to come back to these shapes after nature

and time have changed them, to see how the edges have adjusted to fi t together better, or how my present

knowledge has changed what I previously believed to be so permanent, or true.

The canopy to this tree was made using three panels of black silk organza, discharged to

green. I developed a drawing of leaf and seedpod shapes inspired by one of my favorite trees on campus

that I silk screened onto the fabric using thickened dyes and silk scouring paste. Next I made drawings

of the shapes created by intersecting leaves on that tree as well as the spaces between the leaves. From

lightly felted merino wool fi bers, I cut out these shapes, which I then nuno felted onto the printed fabric

along with some Tencel roving for added luster. The panels were hung individually from concentric

circles of pencil rod with the most highly felted panel toward the outside, and lit to reveal the printed

panels behind.

Trees 29

To form the trunk of this tree, I ombré

dyed two lengths of silk gauze. Next, I lightly

felted merino, corriedale, and Shetland wool in

gradated colors before cutting out shapes similar

to those used in the canopy pieces. The lattice-

like wool left after cutting out these shapes was

laid on top of the ombré silk at the center of the

panel, and the cut outs were added to the top and

bottom of each panel before nuno felting the silk

and wool together. Finally, the two panels were

stitched together to create a column.

Seeds

Ideas. Inception. Microscopic versions

of the potential. The most basic unit of this

forest is the journal entry. A single sheet of

abaca paper fi lled with contemplation, accounts

of a day’s events, confusion over relationships, interpretation of Scripture and prayer, all seeds to be

cultivated into larger ideas. The process of creating each tree is infi nitely more important to me than

the fi nal product. Within this transitory period were my breakthroughs—new ways of understanding

a situation or establishing familiarity with a material (wool and I became friends only after working

together so intensely). The objects in this region contain documentation of the creative journey from

initial ideas within journal entries, to research of the relevance between trees and human psychology, to

artistic techniques that brought these arboreal forms to life. We all have to start somewhere. This was my

somewhere.

The objects in this section were intended to show the process of creating the installation. On

one pedestal I set my journal entries, which had been bound around a found branch. I wanted a way

to display these personal thoughts while not allowing the audience direct access. The branch serves as

a locking mechanism while reiterating the importance of attaching memory to external objects. In the

Trees 30

center of this region I set up a computer

with a looped movie of my proposal

presentation to show the academic

research I did in preparation for the

installation. On the fi nal pedestal I

set my written proposal, as well as a

book chronicling the basic steps of

papermaking and feltmaking. Inevitably

people ask about these two processes,

and I wanted a visual aid to assist in

the explanation. I had my husband

photograph me while working and I

digitally printed these photographs and

brief explanations onto handmade kozo

paper. For the paper side of the cover,

I couched several layers of kozo paper

together and cast the word “paper” in

the same fi ber. For the felt side of the

cover, I wet felted a rectangle of welsh

wool with handspun merino spelling

out the title. REFLECTION

The biggest change made to

this project since the proposal stage

was the addition of felt. While making

paper, I had been thinking of how

similar the papermaking and feltmaking

processes were in the autonomy of the

fi bers—these two non-woven textiles

become fabric simply by their own

Seeds Region. Above: Book of journal entries.

Below: Book of feltmaking and papermaking processes and proposal.

Trees 31

properties. Outside forces compress paper fi bers or agitate wool fi bers together, but the fusion comes

by nature of their physical structures. It was suggested during my proposal meeting that I fi nd a way to

incorporate texture into my silk panels, and the way felt shrinks and therefore ruches fabric accomplished

this goal, in addition to helping the silk to better resemble tree bark.

Adding the process of nuno felting also added a signifi cant amount of work. Some pieces required

up to nine hours of rolling and fulling, forceful processes that require a lot of physical energy. While I do

not have the $4000 that could have bought me a felting machine, I am fortunate enough to have several

friends who were willing to help me with these stages, and this was benefi cial for many reasons. Not only

was I able to disperse strenuous work onto multiple bodies, I was able to educate people who otherwise

would have no idea how felt is made or even what it is made from. I was also blessed to have loved ones

actually see what I spend so much of my time doing, as opposed to explaining my day to people that have

no frame of reference. I felt more understood by the people I care about.

I have greatly enjoyed the fact that paper and felt act as co-creators with me—I can make

decisions about much of what I want to occur, but ultimately the materials themselves will do what is

in their nature to do. It is a good reminder that I am not always the one in control—constantly I need

reminded to let go of what I think needs to happen. I am thankful that instead of getting tired of working

with images of trees, I love them more and have a deeper appreciation for their monumental nature—their

size commands importance and respect and evokes memory. I love that trees serve as landmarks to remind

me of familiar territory. AUDIENCE RESPONSE

I was happy to hear several people say that they felt a sense of peaceful calm when they walked

into the gallery space. As this is the feeling I get after journaling, I counted it as success that this

emotional benefi t carried through from inspiration to completion of my work. I believe that sense of

tranquility, along with the maps containing my journaled explanations of the pieces, drew people in to

the work. One man told me he was able to connect to the installation in ways he wasn’t able to connect

to others because of the similarity of our experiences. He understood what I meant when I wrote about

friendships that had failed and trying to understand one’s place among other people. Another woman

explained that she had seen one of my pieces at the Rotunda Gallery in October and made a point to come

to this show because she herself has a background in fi ne art, is currently a writer, and has struggled with

how to blend those aspects of her personality.

Trees 32

Most of the visitors to the opening reception were my friends and family. The comment I heard

most frequently was that it was great for them to fi nally be able to see what I have been talking about for

the past ten months. It was great for them, and a relief for me, similar to what I experienced in being able

to teach friends about feltmaking. For so long I have seen the confusion in people’s faces or heard the

pause in conversation when they don’t know how to respond to my explanation of what I’ve been doing

all day simply because they don’t speak the fi ber language, and “I’m making a tree out of silk and wool”

does not register with them. This was yet another milestone of feeling understood, which all along has

been the purpose of creating work on personal themes for public display.

FUTURE DIRECTIONS

I have been approached about installing this work in the Rall Gallery at Doane College, as well

as one of the Haymarket galleries in Lincoln for some time in 2011. I have also been asked about the

possibility of teaching workshops on papermaking and feltmaking to both children and adults.

I hope to continue to develop the skills I have learned throughout my graduate career. I plan to

use my screen printing, papermaking and bookmaking abilities to grow a small online business called

Feeding The Lake, and am excited to see where the momentum from my work over the past year will take

me.

Trees 33

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prasa/instalacje.pdf on 10/27/09

Trees 35

Isaksen, E., (Printmaker and collage artist). (2001). Winter Seeds III [work on paper]. Retrieved 5

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Trees 36

Jung, C. (1967). Alchemical studies. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

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en.php?t=tkaniny&f=6

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nationally respected program. Mizzou Wire. Retrieved from http://mizzouwire.missouri.edu/

Trees 37

stories/2009/nerds-of-mizzou-march/index.php

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Trees 38

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Trees 39

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Berg.

Trees 40

APPENDIX A: DEFINITION OF TERMS

Archetype Unconscious images of instincts (inborn, unlearned tendencies) and patterns of instinctual

behavior that are part of the collective unconscious. Attributed to Carl Jung.

Biophilia E.O. Wilson’s term to suggest a genetic predisposition for humanity to affi liate with nature

(Clayton & Opotow, 2003, p. 7).

Depth Psychology Theory on the psychological signifi cance of trees which focuses on the

correspondence between human and tree development. Recognizes the tree as an archetype (Sommer,

2003, p. 191).

Ecopsychology A theoretical approach recognizing the need for humanity to realize their connection to

the natural environment as a means of experiencing full mental health (Clayton & Opotow, 2003, p. 7).

Environmental Identity Aspect of self that includes personal defi nition of the environment, the degree of

similarity we understand ourselves as sharing with the environment, and whether elements of nature are

valuable socially and morally (Opotow, as cited in Clayton & Opotow, 2003, p. 8).

Identity A way of organizing information about the self (Clayton, 2003, p. 45).

Metaphor A fi gure of speech in which a word or phrase literally denoting one kind of object or idea is

used in place of another to suggest a likeness or analogy between them (Merriam-Webster, 2009).

Nature Environments where the effect of humans is minimal or indistinct to life forms within that

environment (i.e., plants and animals), and to non-animate features (i.e., ocean shore, soil, etc.) (Clayton

& Opotow, 2003, p. 6).

Phenomenological Approaches Theory on the psychological signifi cance of trees with an emphasis on

metaphors between humanity and nature (Sommer, 2003, p. 191).

Spiritual The experience of a being related to or in touch with an ‘other’ that transcends one’s individual

sense of self and gives meaning to one’s life at a deeper than intellectual level (Schroeder, 1991, p. 25).

Trees 41

APPENDIX B: SOME STYLES IN DRAWING TREES

Taken from Burns, 1987, pp. 133-139.

Trees 42

Trees 43

Trees 44

Trees 45

Trees 46

APPENDIX C: DRAWINGS OF TREES – INDIVIDUAL CHARACTERISTICS OF TRUNKS

Taken from Burns, 1987, pp. 190-191.

Trunks

GeneralA.

Tree trunks are said to refl ect feelings of energy, élan vital, libido, life force in growth and

development. Traumatic indices on the trunk seem to refl ect the age a severe trauma was

experienced. Trunks diminishing at the top suggest a diminishing vitality, a “burning out.”

Specifi cB.

Deep shading on a trunk suggests pervasive anxieties.1.

A faintly-drawn trunk suggests passivity.2.

Scars on the trunk may refl ect traumatic experiences.3.

Slender or very narrow trunks indicate precarious adjustment and precarious hold on life.4.

Windblown trunks suggest pressures and tensions from environment.5.

Trees 47

APPENDIX D: PROPOSED TIMELINE

December 2009 Order necessary supplies•

January 2010 Project Proposal, January 14, 2010• Experiment with and fi nalize structure of folded paper books• Develop color scheme based on experimentation with select dyes and • fi bers in combination with printing pigmentsBegin daily drawings/journaling•

February 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Begin designing fi rst pattern and its variations• Continue experimentation with fi bers/techniques•

March 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Begin designing second pattern and its variations• Execute trees based on fi rst pattern•

April 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Begin designing third pattern and its variations• Execute trees based on second pattern•

May 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Begin designing fourth pattern and its variations• Execute trees based on third pattern•

June 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Begin designing fi fth pattern and its variations• Execute trees based on fourth pattern• Begin writing artist statement•

July 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Decide whether additional patterns should be designed• Execute trees based on fi fth pattern•

August 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Continue working on all trees• Design invitation for gallery show•

September 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Finish all pieces• Construct necessary hardware for installation•

October 2010 Continue daily drawings/journaling• Create gallery information cards•

November 2010 Install show • Opening reception • Photograph installation• Write refl ection, add images to paper• Option II project defense •

Trees 48

APPENDIX E: PROPOSED BUDGET

Item Merchant Cost/Unit Total

Silk Organza ExoticSilks Dharma Trading

50 @ $3.30 / yard 51.75 @ $3.30 / yd 52.5 @ $3.15 / yd

$165 $170.78 $165.38

Silk Gauze Dharma Trading 50.5 @ $2.75 / yd $138.88

Shipping Exotic Silks Dharma Trading Carriage House Paper Lawson Screen Products Dick Blick Yarn Barn of Kansas

$16.50 $9.15 $13.73 $6.00 $20.00 $9.72 $6.95 $4.50

$16.50 $9.15

$13.73 $6.00

$20.00

$9.72

$6.95 $4.50

Photoemulsion Lawson Screen Products

1 @ $71.06/gallon

$71.06

Opaque pens Gomez Art Supply

2 @ $1.99 3 @ $3.59

$3.98 $10.77

Tracing Paper Gomez Art Supply

1 @ $8.99 $8.99

Duralar Gomez Art Supply

1 @ $6.50 $6.50

Colour Vie Pigment System Colour Vie Total: $70.50 $70.50

Shipping Colour Vie $27 on 12/5/09 $27

Vellum Printing for screen positives

A&D Technical Supply

90 @ $0.60/square foot $54

Paper Studio Fees UNL Art Department

2 @ $30 / semester $60

Book Board Dick Blick Gomez Art Supply

1 @ $11.42 / 4 pack 2 @ $4.99 1 @ $2.89

$11.42 $9.98 $2.89

Wheat paste Gomez Art Supply

1 @ $16.39 $16.39

Waxed linen thread Gomez Art Supply Hobby Lobby

3 @ $6 / 50 yards 6 @ $1.99 1 @ $5.99

$18

$11.94 $5.99

Lineco Neutral pH Adhesive Dick Blick 1 @ $5.24 / 8 oz. $5.24

Lineco Methyl Cellulose Adhesive

Dick Blick $7.59 / 1.5 oz. $7.59

Sodium Alginate Dharma Trading Co.

1 @ $17.95 / 1 lb. $17.95

Synthrapol Dharma Trading Co.

1 @ $4.09 / 1 pint $4.09

Trees 49

Trees 50