Tree Translations
When I was in my twenties my creative energies went in two directions: Drawing and printmaking for my personal exploration, and graphic design for my professional (aka: get a paycheck) endeavors. My personal work was mostly in black and white: big, messy, and focused on my own observations and emotions. My professional work was corporate, clean and subject to client approval. I kept this balance for fifteen years. Then I had children, and my professional work morphed into picture book illustration: brightly colored cut paper collages and subject to art director approval.
Thirty years, twenty eight books, and major life events went by. The publishing industry had changed, and I had changed, too. It just wasn’t fun any more. I realized it was time for a new direction for my creative energy again, but I didn’t know what that would look like. I was also packing up our home of twenty seven years to move to another state in the middle of a pandemic. While cleaning out my studio, I discovered a forgotten box of old art supplies— mostly charcoal sticks, kneaded erasers and mouse-nibbled gray-toned pastels. I remembered how much I loved working in black and white.
I’ve always loved to walk in the woods, so when not sorting and packing and trying to figure out what to do next I spent time on nature trails. The trees helped me find my path.
After the move I started to draw trees with my old charcoal sticks: big and messy and not subject to the approval of clients or art directors. I felt a surge of creative energy and freedom for the first time in many years. And I also discovered that I have something to say. I’m now incorporating collage into my work, using some of the paper I had accumulated over the years from working on book illustrations, and also fabric. I like the fact that charcoal sticks are made from tree twigs. When I need texture, I print leaves and bark and moss onto my drawings. My trees aren’t portraits or traditional landscapes. I’m experimenting a lot. I call these drawings, “Tree Translations.”
Cathryn Falwell
Auburn, Maine and Milford, Connecticut
frogsongpond [at] yahoo.com
