Do Trees Have Souls?

Do trees have souls?
Yes
And hearts?
Yes.

When a fellow falls,
do they grieve?
Yes.

Do they jostle for space and
compete for water?
Yes.

Do they shelter their young?

They do.

Do they suffer depression?

They can.

When birds crown them with
song, do they know joy?
When squirrels spiral the length of
their trunks, do they laugh?
And when water rots, when storm
dismembers, when drought dispirits,
when insects ravage, when pollution
chokes, do they suffer?

Yes, and go to their end as we do with
dignity or agony, regret or relief,
curious to the end about
the fate of their souls.
Yes.  Perhaps they do.

Johanne Renbeck

Feb 2010

Portolani travels to Minneapolis

I have trip anxiety, but not so, my work. It's been flying out of Dutchess County all year to shows in the far-flung worlds of Oregon, California, Minnesota and New Jersey. So we're all happy. The work goes out. I stay home and make more.

Last week my installation piece called Portolani, Maps of a Journey traveled to the Susan Hensel Gallery in Minneapolis to be part of a show called Leap of Faith: Give It a Rest. The exhibit explores the meaning of Sabbath. (Visit www.susanhenselgallery.blogspot.com to learn more about the exhibit.)

PORTOLANI

Maps of a Journey
 

The natural world is where I find Sabbath. Whether I take a walk up the nearby hill, sit by a creek or just find a moment's surprise in something like the way the sunlight enters my house, these time give me rest from the demands of the day. They refresh my spirit and make space for new things to happen. An answer to a dilemma shows up. A phrase that prompts a poem speaks itself. An idea for art comes into being. Without Sabbath in the arms of the natural world, I cannot imagine that any of the would happen.

Portolani: Maps of a Journey grew out of this practice. It traces interactions with the natural world from August to the following May. It begins with a prayer of sorts and ends with transformation.

Above is the work installed at the AMAGE Gallery of St Thomas Aquinas College in Sparkill, NY. Below are two panels from the piece. (Visit www.JohanneRenbeck.com/work/portolani for more information about Portolani.)

ORCHARD WISH

All is still in the orchard.

Rows of trees meditate

under a wide sky.

Static clouds part here and there

to reveal high holy blue.

Far off, lapis mountains

delineate heaven and earth.

Rows of trees meditate

on the undulating hillside

standing in tall ragged grasses

that no one stirs to mow.

Here on the rolling earth

all is green and only a

patient eye can finally see

the small, shapely apples and

pears hanging among

leaves on the uplifted

arms of meditating trees.

Now is the season of

waiting and luck.

I long to sit in that orchard,

swelling imperceptibly,

betting against drought

and storm and insect horde.

I long to believe that I,

worshiping some great mystery,

may bear new fruit.

BLACK CHERRY TREE 

Black cherry tree,

you ride me on your

shoulders in the wind

and I open my arms

to chance.  You loan

me your trunk, rough

and dark, so I can

feel how roots
anchor in the earth
while branches tumble
in waves of wind.
My arms rise up as branches
feeling ease. Little
leaves flicker into being
bringing home the sun
to fill me, to cascade arcs
of flowers from my finger ends.
When I've grown these;
leaves, they will fall
away, out into the
world, scattering.

Poems and images copyright Johanne Renbeck.

Life in the studio last week

Life in the studio last week was surely
strange. One part mad science, four
parts old-fashioned wash day. Let me
explain. It all began because I wanted to
make a book and all the paper I had on hand
was white. White, white, white and this book
must be like the color of leaves bleached on the
floor of the woods, like abandoned nests of
paper wasps, like the look of moonlight spread
out on cold autumn fields.

The mad science part goes like this:
Brew every tea on hand, each in its own little
jar: chamomile, licorice, English
breakfast, Irish breakfast decaf, dandelion,
alfalfa, organic peppermint. Dip strips of
white paper possibilities into each tea and
see what color develops. Hmm. Not quite right.
Dip strips of paper into one then another tea.
Better, but still lacking. What would happen if the
paper were crumpled? Oh, nice.

Now for wash day: Make big batches of the
winning teas and put them in two pans. Dip
each page in tea number one. Crumple. Dip again.
Lay out on a towel to air dry. When all papers
are rinsed, repeat the performance with tea
number two, but only one rinse. Then place
each paper between sheets of clean newsprint and
iron until flat and dry.

It was a strange week in the studio, strangely satisfying