The Source
At the start of this year, when the need for illicit swimming drove us to the cliff paths, the coves and the forest, I happened upon the strangest of trees. On that day in January, I photographed many mossy logs, fallen trees and majestic towering old milkwoods. These photographs became the genesis for the Ephemeral Nature of Things series which currently occupies, and are likely to keep occupying my thoughts, dreams and work for some time to come. Since then, I have been back to the forest at least once every 2 months, I have been searching for this particular tree, the one I have come to name the tortoise tree in my mind. The initial photographs were manipulated in a number of imaging software programs, and I knew that this tree very likely didn’t resemble the photograph I had since studied first in photoshop, then in charcoal and now finally in oil on canvas. Yet he/she/they called to me, and I went in search of them first one weekend in February , again in March, April, in June and again in August, I walked the length of the milkwood forest, often with dogs and /or teenagers in tow, to no avail, this tree was not to be found. I have since happened upon all the other logs, and mossy trunks, and as I visited more and more, we became acquainted with each other until we moved through familiarity to a quiet ongoing becoming with. Today I took my daughter and her friend to the beach, they swam while I walked the length of the beach first up and then down, grounding myself. Nothing locates the soul in the grand scheme of things like ice-cold seawater and sand beneath the feet. As I strolled back to where the teenagers were swimming and felt the pull of the forest, I had to go for a walk, but I knew that it had to be a solitary walk. I entered through the main boardwalk, exactly as I did the day before, past the bubbling brook and up the path, past the older bigger trees where the wider path covered by a boardwalk wind through the forest. I pressed on to my favourite most secluded spot, where I had photographed my daughter earlier this year emerging from an illicit swim in a dark stream. As I entered this section I suddenly laid eyes upon the tortoise tree, I know for a fact that I must have walked past them every single time since I took that first photograph. What was even more remarkable though was that in that moment, I was certain that the tree recognised me too, It was like running into a long-lost friend. This time I told them how I have been busy studying them I showed them the photographs of my work and asked if I might take some more. I gently laid my hand against the moss-covered bark. Peter Wohlleben says that trees are social beings, I am not, well not so much. None the less I was glad to make their acquaintance now again, properly for the second time. It was an emotional reunion, and since listening to Robin Wall Kimmerer’s advice I thanked them for being, and asked permission to enter into reciprocity with them, might I photograph them for my work, may I show them to the world, could we enter into an ongoing becoming together? I have no idea whether I went about the introductions the right way, it certainly felt right, it felt like a meeting of souls which defies all reason. No, nothing was spoken out loud, it was a quiet being together in that time and that space. Today I had a meeting with the most special of trees, and I am much better for it...
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AuthorLaurette de Jager is a Visual Artist working with the Ephemeral Nature of Things, in the hope of finding new ways of existing in a dying Archives
October 2023
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©2022 by Laurette de Jager
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