Dancing Trees

Il faut etre deux pour danser un pas de deux.

Everybody knows that trees swing and sway and shake all limbs, when they dance with the wind.

But I was looking for a permanent stance, a figure involving two vegetal performers moving in synchronicity. A “pas de deux”, as the French first said it. Literally, step for two.

How I did it? Sorry, that’s a professional secret. Someone knowledgeable taught me, but made me swear not to reveal it.

However, there in the deep silence of the woods it becomes more than a coordinated move. It suggests an intricate and disquieting bond between two performing trees, forever tied in a frozen attitude.

Phoenix

A phoenix is an eternal bird that, according to Greek mythology, cyclically dies only to resurrect from its ashes. It was therefore considered a perfect symbol of constant renewal.

One Summer, my wanderings through the French Alps’ woods brought me to a secluded clearing. In middle of it were the decaying stump of a mighty pinetree.

Somehow it struck me as a most appropriate site to plant a young tree. And so I did, on the top of it, in its very center.

When I returned a few weeks later, it had prospered.

I marveled at this representation of how the youngest generations sink theirs roots in the physical body and, one would imagine, the wealth of knowledge of their predecessors.

Wormking

Can you ask a worm do the work for you?

You just put it in a place he’s gonna like and wait. It’ll design beautiful intricacies, transforming an anonymous pole in a sumptuous abstract totem, in an object of ritual, in a scepter fit for an agrarian king.