Old Apple Trees

 

The latest in my series of winter charcoal drawings of upstate and central New York is this one, of a pair of old trees in a field - probably apple trees, I'm thinking. They touch something in me; perhaps it's the way they are still growing in spite of losing limbs and, in the case of one, practically its entire original trunk. Maybe it's because they look like a pair. But it's also because finding old trees like this feels typical of such a place, where people have been farming for a long time. Perhaps there was once a homestead nearby. I like the way these trees, with their individual personalities, stand in the foreground, set off by the indistinct woods in the little gully behind the hills; it makes me want to walk there, climb up the hill behind, see if there's a stream. I'm sure deer like these trees too, and can be found beneath them in the fall, eating apples.

It's difficult to get good photos or scans of these drawings; even when I work on them in Photoshop, I find that favoring the bright white of the snow means losing a lot of detail and grey tones in the trees, but retaining those tones means the snow is too dark. I've got a project in mind for this series, so I need to solve that technical problem, no doubt with some help from my partner who knows all about black-and-white reproduction.

But in real life, I can see that progress has been made. I pinned all the drawings up on my studio wall - four of them are still at the lake -- and was pleased to see how they talk to each other, and how together they start to add up to something more interesting than the individual drawings. That's encouraging.

We're having more snow here in Montreal today, with another storm coming this weekend. I figure I have just this current month to continue in a winter frame of mind, so I need to keep at these. There are nine so far, including two that are sketches, and I'd like to have at least twelve to choose from, better yet fifteen, by the time spring can be felt in the air, and the snow begins to recede at last. One of the drawings I plan to do is of the same field you can see in the summer painting, standing on the floor.

 

Comments

[Peter]

I like the stream near Piseco Lake best, but as you write about how to copy the white foregrounds in a couple sketches, I wonder if the field is naturally like that. A few days after a snowfall, I would expect a field to be a little scuffed up by wind blown debris, passing animals, and the shadows formed as the snow settles into the contours beneath it. Is it possible to add flecks and shadows subtly enough to avoid taking away from the focus of the drawing? (Me, i would leave smudges all over and be unable to remove them, but that's inexperience, not mastery.)

[Beth]

It's more a question of what effect is desired, I think. As in the image at the top here, I've scribbled in some stubbly grass, leftover corn on the right, etc. -- it felt like it needed something. But in that prior picture with the snowy field in the foreground and just trees in the upper third, I really wanted the white to be completely unmarked. Don't ask me why! I'm going for effect more than realism, I guess, but you could certainly go more for the latter. The problem in reproduction is eliminating all the pixels in the white areas while keeping a full tonal scale for all the greys through black. Jonathan is really good at it, but it's very difficult in drawings, unless they are very graphic pen-and-ink, for instance, and you've only got black, or white, and nothing in-between.

[Liz Nestler]

I really like them as a group!

[Dave Bonta]

I think this is my favorite in the series so far.

[Kostas Sarantidis]

You are a true spiritual creative, Beth. I wish I could join you on such a walk if it were possible. But my walking days are over, and I rely on the poetry of your images and prose. Keep at it while it's still winter. The way things are going, spring might be a little later than March 20th this year!