Contrapposto. Enantiadromia. Those terms suggesting particular formal relationships seem to recur as I look at things. Sometimes they are just simple things in nature, well what is really simple in nature. This tree that anchors a small field near Trempealeau Park seems one thing from one side and when you walk around it, it changes entirely. Not immediately or right before your eyes, but gradually and seductively. At first it is two trunks intertwined, two old partners whose skins have wrinkled into shared folds, and that is the way I drew it initially. As I drew another formal conundrum took hold. The tubular voids began pressing their shapes into my consciousness and I tried drawing the tree inside out, as if the space was trapped inside.
Leila was out drawing another tree, a white birch in an open field of green. While leaving my tree behind to catch up to her, I turned back for a last look and saw the gaping mouth, almost heard the solemn groan from its now collected hole on the other side. What was a twisted acceptance of coexistence now seemed a cohesive, collective lament for unity. Tree stories - there may be more to come.
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