Arboreal Encounters
Arboreal Encounters are a series of portraits made with six heritage oak trees across England. Each tree was chosen from the 2002 ‘Great British Trees’ list collected by the Tree Council, an environmentalist and tree charity, to commemorate the late-Queen’s Golden Jubilee. Derived from an experiment with anthotype printing (the process of using photosensitive material already present in plants), each image is first made as a 120mm negative, printed as a cyanotype, and then toned with tannin extracted from the bark of oak trees. In short, this process was inspired by questioning how I could include the trees within the process of their own imaging. As I began to read more around the theory of plant-intelligence and agency, representing the trees using my camera without an attempt to ‘include’ them in the photographic process began to feel exploitative, or at the very least demonstrative of a lack of deeper thinking around how this could be possible.
After a failed attempt at oak leaf anthotypes, I began to use the leftover solution as a dye for toning cyanotypes, the natural tannins inherent in the oak leaves resulting in many sepia toned prints. As more experiments and more thinking around this developed, I began to perceive the watercolour paper prints as a kind of membrane that binds the human representation of the tree (the photograph) together with an inherent organic compound within it (the tannin); their fibrous combination conceived as a collaborative effort between myself and the tree. Since the tannin from the oak leaves shifts the colour profile and the tonal range of the print, the project and resulting prints also functions as a metaphor for the ability of plants to change perspectives on how the natural world is perceived, and how plants themselves might have agency within that process.
Below are photographs of the resulting prints together with their name, location and a brief history of each individual tree. As each of them are considered ‘heritage’ trees, attention is drawn to aspects of what I call “cultural infrastructure” — physical material such as fences, staves, wires and metal ‘corsets’, all of which maintain each tree’s individual health and are an attempt to preserve their lives for generations to come.
A discussion of the ideas, methods and theories surrounding this project features in my paper ‘Photographic Phytography: Towards a Photographic Re-centring of the Oak within Theory, Material and Practice’, due to be published this year in Plant Perspectives, a new journal of interdisciplinary plant-studies.
Queen Elizabeth I Oak, Cowdray Park, Midhurst, from the series Arboreal Encounters as part of the practice-based PhD project ‘Photosymbiosis: Towards a Photographic Method of Collaboration with England’s Heritage Oak Tree’s’, 2021. 21 x 29.7cm print on 29.7 x 42cm paper. Oak leaf tannin-toned cyanotype on Langton watercolour paper.
Queen Elizabeth I Oak,
Cowdray Park,
Midhurst, West Sussex,
U.K.
Named due to the story of Queen Elizabeth I allegedly having shot a deer from beneath its branches while visiting the Cowdray Estate in 1593 (Questier, 2006: 170-174; Miles, 2013). One of the rarer examples of trees that bare royal association due to the monarch’s presence, in that there is evidence of Queen Elizabeth I indeed being at the estate and staying for several days (Questier, 2006: 170-174). Whether or not this was indeed the tree she stood against, or if indeed she did shoot a deer at all, remains a myth.
The tree has a huge, characteristic split down the centre of its trunk which has become a common part of its imaging. Because of this, I chose to photograph the tree from the opposite direction, hiding the split and shifting perspective. Found in the deer park a few meters from the car park just off the A272, there is no discernible signage to direct interested parties to the tree (as of May 2021), however the plaque to mark it a ‘Great British Tree’ in 2002 remains as a form of identification, once discovered.
“By using analogue processes combined with organic material within Arboreal Encounters, the oak trees are conceived as participants and collaborators and in so doing become agents in the process of their visual representation. The decision to work with the trees, rather than simply using their image as an illustration of philosophical inquiry, is an essential part of my creative methodology […] As cyanotypes are made and rely upon a high level of ultraviolet light to properly produce a print, Arboreal Encounters is seasonally restricted to the late-spring and summer months, coming into bloom much like the leaves and flowers more generally associated with the cyanotype process and aesthetic. Although UV lamps can be bought and used to compensate for the lack of ultraviolet light in winter and autumn, the size of my own prints make it difficult in terms of both space and money for this to be viable. The result of this, however, means that the secondary aspect of Arboreal Encounters, the production of a cyanotype print, is once more rooted within a release of human control and adherence to climate and season, retaining the symbolic relationship between both plants and photographs co-reliance on sunlight.”
Quote taken from my writing on the project Arboreal Encounters in ‘Photographic Phytography: Towards a Photographic Re-centring of the Oak within Theory, Material and Practice’, Plant Perspectives.
Son of Royal Oak,
Boscobel House,
Boscobel, Shropshire,
U.K.
The Royal Oak as it stands today is actually a descendant of the original tree that bares its name, which died sometime in the early 18th century due to souvenir hunters taking parts of the tree which, according to Samuel Pepys in 1702, rendered it completely without bark (de Groot, 2016). Because of this, the name of the current tree within the grounds of Boscobel House was adapted to signify its linkages and cultural ties to the previous tree. Interestingly enough due to this adaptation Son of Royal Oak acts as organic repurposing of human activities — placing significant importance on notions of inheritance, of land, status and class.
As this descendant tree was planted sometime around the Royal Oak’s death, it is estimated that the oak is around 317 year old. The original oak was named after Charles II allegedly hid among its branches when fleeing the parliamentarians (Miles, 2013). Perhaps as a means of re-appropriating the phenomenon that killed the original tree, saplings grown from acorns of the tree can be purchased at Boscobel House as their own form of memento.
Son of Royal Oak, Boscobel House, Boscobel, Shropshire from the series Arboreal Encounters as part of the practice-based PhD project ‘Photosymbiosis: Towards a Photographic Method of Collaboration with England’s Heritage Oak Tree’s’, 2021. 21 x 29.7cm print on 29.7 x 42cm paper. Oak leaf tannin-toned cyanotype on Langton watercolour paper.
“As the tannin effects the tone and therefore the visual structure of the print, it could also be said that one literally views and therefore perceives each tree through an aspect of the tree itself. The tannin, as a layer, acts as if a translucent barrier between the human looking at the print and its human representation beneath its tonal impression, functioning as if a lens between them. As the tannin was previously part of the bark of the oak, there is also a curious correlation between the print and the tree when thinking about notions of materiality and form. Tannin, when found within oak trees, functions primarily to protect them from predators or from fungal and bacterial infection. When oaks are pliant and young, the volume of tannic acid flowing through their frame can prevent excessive and potentially fatal grazing by filling their stems and leaves with a bitter aftertaste to make them unpalatable for munching insects and animals alike.[1] Although invisible to the human eye as this process happens within the interior anatomy of the plant, the photographic process of Arboreal Encounters reveals and visually references a highly important aspect of the lifecycle of the tree that enables them to survive over centuries, much like the mythic, cultural stories that have protected them and prevented their felling.
To take the example of the Queen Elizabeth I Oak, the tree’s royalist associations with the tudor Queen are derived from a story of her allegedly shooting a deer from beneath its branches during a visit to the Cowdray Estate in 1593.[2] A rare example of tree’s that bare royal names due to the monarch’s proximity to the area, in that there is evidence for her visitation within the estate archives that places her within an accurate time and place associated with the tree.[3] To name a tree from a monarch’s visit is to embed their visitation within the land, to draw royalist connections between the crown and aristocratic families that are aligned politically, and to ascribe such associations visually. To fell the tree is to therefore cut the ties and to visibly sever the family’s sovereignty over the land. That the oak has survived four-hundred-and-thirty years after the event that elevated its value is a testament to the sociocultural power that can be held over specific trees and enable their survival.[4]”
[1] Oakes, D. 2021. ‘Oakes on Oaks: Introducing out 56(ish) Trees,’ Trees a Crowd. https://www.treesacrowd.fm/56Trees/ (accessed 04 September 23).
[2] Miles, A., 2016. The British Oak. London, Constable.
[3] Questier, M. C., 2006. Catholicism and Community in Early Modern England: Politics, Aristocratic Patronage and Religion, C.1550-1640. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press: 170-174.
[4] Jones, O and Cloke, P. 2002. Tree Cultures.
Quote taken from my writing on the project Arboreal Encounters in ‘Photographic Phytography: Towards a Photographic Re-centring of the Oak within Theory, Material and Practice’, Plant Perspectives.
Major Oak, Sherwood Forest, Nottingham, from the series Arboreal Encounters as part of the practice-based PhD project ‘Photosymbiosis: Towards a Photographic Method of Collaboration with England’s Heritage Oak Tree’s’, 2021. 21 x 29.7cm print on 29.7 x 42cm paper. Oak leaf tannin-toned cyanotype on Langton watercolour paper.
Major Oak,
Sherwood Forest,
Edwinstowe, Nottinghamshire,
U.K.
The Major Oak is allegedly Britain’s largest oak in scale with a weight estimated at 23 tonnes and a height of 92ft. The tree’s fame derives from its connections to the legend of Robin Hood, as it was allegedly the home providing him and his Merry Men with shelter (Miles, 2013). It is currently the only tree on the list of ‘Great British Trees’ in a public space that actually has cultural infrastructure in place (the Major Oak trail) in order to direct visitors to it (Visit Nottinghamshire, 2022).
Despite is mythic connections to the story of Robin Hood, the Major Oak’s current name actually stems from the British soldier and antiquarian (a previous term for a student of ancient history or archeology) Major Hayman Rooke, whose name became associated with the tree after he featured a drawing of it in his 1790 book Remarkable Oaks. Before this it was known as the ‘Cockpen Tree’, a reference made to its hollow trunk being used to hold baskets of cockerels for fighting (The Woodland Trust, 2019). Evidence of why the tree is so large, aside from its perceived grand age (between 600-1,000 years old), is contested, however according to The Woodland Trust it may have come from being a working pollard (a method of tree management to create a series of dense branches to maintain a regular source of wood for harvest).
Held up by a series of wooden staves wrapped together by wire that support and hold its giant boughs in place, the physical infrastructure responsible for its preservation is just as remarkable as the tree itself, as well as being one of many conservation methods put in place to protect such heritage trees from becoming victim to their own massive size.
“What occurs inside this combination of organic and cultural associations within the print is a series of interesting and complex overlaps that are worth briefly reviewing. Firstly, the tannin within the tree acts as a protective component against biological invasion, functioning more or less in the same way as the cultural associations that surround the heritage trees as they both intentionally prevent the tree from dying. Secondly, the tonal outcome of the print as a result of the tannin performs visual associations with antique or historical prints, therefore acting as referents to the age of the trees and to the myths that elevate them to heritage status. As these myths function, both historically and through contemporary tree management practices, to protect the trees from damage, it could be said here that the as the tannin moves from one material to the next, it transfers and visually transforms many of its protective functions from within the body of the tree, into the body of the print.”
Quote taken from my writing on the project Arboreal Encounters in ‘Photographic Phytography: Towards a Photographic Re-centring of the Oak within Theory, Material and Practice’, Plant Perspectives.
Big Belly Oak,
Savernake Forest,
Marlborough, Wiltshire,
U.K.
One of the most enigmatic of the trees on the ‘Great British Trees’ list, mostly due to the lack of information available on its history or naming, the Big Belly Oak is one of several great oaks within Savernake Forest, the others being The King of Limbs and The Cathedral Oak. Its name appears to derive directly from its physical appearance — its trunk bellowing at the bottom resembling a bloated human stomach, it is also however occasionally referred to as the Big-Bellied Oak.
A major characteristic of the tree is its large metal ‘corset’ that holds the tree together as a means to prevent it from splitting. Despite this preventative measure no fences are in place to block visitors from getting close to the tree or stepping inside its hollow trunk, however this is most likely due to its proximity to the A346, being just a few meters from the road. Because of this, visibility is good if travelling to Savernake by car, or even if you just happen to be passing, however good local knowledge is required to find the tree on foot as there are no signs (as of July 2023) directing you to the tree within the forest.
Big Belly Oak, Savernake Forest, Marlborough from the series Arboreal Encounters as part of the practice-based PhD project ‘Photosymbiosis: Towards a Photographic Method of Collaboration with England’s Heritage Oak Tree’s’, 2021. 21 x 29.7cm print on 29.7 x 42cm paper. Oak leaf tannin-toned cyanotype on Langton watercolour paper.
“As all my printmaking for Arboreal Encounters was produced within my parent’s garden, I was also able to use collected rainwater from a series of water-butts positioned around their bungalow to wash and fix the prints post-exposure, as well as during the bleaching and tonal process. This additional aspect of utilising a component of the natural world within the processing of photographic prints through a by-product of weather conditions, rather than the more easily accessible mains water supply, is yet another example of how photographic prints can become literally saturated with meaning and by the environment within which they are made.
To think of the combination of this photographic process […] some interesting observations emerge. Firstly, photographs made in this way directly engage with the landscape from which they are made and therefore create a material connection between object (the photographic print) and subject (the plant). As I am unable to use the physical trees within the production of prints due to their age and protected status, the tannin extract could be thought of as a substitute in lieu of physical plants to maintain this material connection between subject and object. Furthermore, these photographic prints engage in an interesting conversation around the difference between an objective, distanced interpretation of a subject, and the subject’s direct interactions with the surface (and fibres) of the print. It could be said, therefore, that using the physical parts of the tree within the process of artmaking provides the plant with a sense of agency that informs the resulting print, and by extension how the viewer meets and interprets the image.”
Quote taken from my writing on the project Arboreal Encounters in ‘Photographic Phytography: Towards a Photographic Re-centring of the Oak within Theory, Material and Practice’, Plant Perspectives.
Photograph detailing the installation of Photosymbiosis, my solo exhibition at ONCA Gallery, Brighton, in 2022. On the left is a display of five framed photographs from the project Arboreal Encounters (including an alternative version of ‘Queen Elizabeth I Oak’ and the no-longer included image of the ‘Doomsday Oak’, Bristol, depicted second from left), exhibited alongside a jar of tannin used to tone the cyanotype prints, displayed in the centre.