This is a small study of an Eucalyptus tree – one of several I pass on my morning walks. The source photo is down below. I liked contrast of the cool blue-gray dappled green of the trunks against the Raw Sienna under-painting, so I decided to leave it just like this. The featured image above is distorted. Below is the image in the right proportions.
I grew up next to an area densely populated with huge Eucalyptus trees – I spent countless days there as a young boy. I have a special affinity for these trees.
While I was painting this, I kept thinking of a certain poem by Wendell Berry. It is quoted in part below:
The Sycamore In the place that is my own place, whose earth I am shaped in and must bear, there is an old tree growing, a great sycamore that is a wondrous healer of itself. Fences have been tied to it, nails driven into it, hacks and whittles cut in it, the lightning has burned it. There is no year it has flourished in that has not harmed it. ... I recognize in it a principle, an indwelling the same as itself, and greater, that I would be ruled by. from: The collected Poems of Wendell Berry
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