When the Trees Speak

Photographs by Paul Williams Poems by Sandra Walker

When the Trees Speak examines the collaboration between photography and nature, through an immersion within the natural environment where nature becomes the essence of the photographic process, rather than merely the subject. The work is produced using large format pinhole cameras, which are light tight boxes containing photographic paper, exposed to light through a tiny pinhole in place of a lens to create an image. This is a slow process, with exposure times varying between several minutes and many hours. The images are then developed on location to further enhance the immersive process. The resulting images represent a photographic journey both literally and figuratively, inviting the viewer to linger their gaze while contemplating Sandy’s accompanying poetry. All these images were taken in the West Sussex or Hampshire area of the UK and the poems were created either at the same time, in response to being in the same locations or as a response to the photos.

Paul Williams Paul has worked in the photographic industry and education for over 40 years. His practice currently focuses on the restorative aspects of nature. He is an Associate of the RPS and is currently studying for an MA in photography.

Dr Sandra Walker

Sandy is a Clinical Academic with a specialist interest in Creative and Community Approaches to Mental Distress. She has been widely published both academically and creatively.

When the Trees Speak

When the trees speak Listen. When the air moves between in the dance of the world Be there, Be aware, Lest we miss the wisdom held, In the sounds, In the ground down seats of our souls moved so far from the source. In the smell of Earth of rain on cooking soil lie the answers. Only there, not aware in a conscious way Just effortless being. Being.

Cut Short

I fought.

I stood my ground, but metal teeth no match for wooden arms

Outstretched in youth, teaming with life of green, of wing, of fruiting fall. My base Cut through and rings of years Exposed to rains, to searing sun, to biting frost. I stood my ground I fought, my hold cut short. Now, as I ebb away, I see, aggrieved, I lost

I move, I dance

I move, I dance Buffeted in gusts so strong Annihilation Might occur. Yet, till that time, I move, I dance Rivers of air move o’er my branch As one we flow Intimate strangers, ignoring fear in spite of dangers. We move, we dance In light or dark Rivers of air Caress my bark And leave me Quivering In a trance. My mind is blown I move, I dance.

By the hour

Scars on bark that hide the wood that thrusts. Signs of ageing deeds misdone, Misguided lusts. Yet still in Upward motion Ploughing on Through times of Weather fine and harsh with storm Skyward yearning With thickening skin Hardened scars That hide the soft within. Hidden still, Tender parts the colour rusts Held by fear, By scorn , By stark mistrusts. Reaching upward Branches wide Life that holds the fear inside Teaming with leaf Awash with life Of bud and flower Aching growth continues By the hour.

Roots

I been thinking ‘bout roots How they tie you down Tethered to a place of pain Or safe and sound

With your feet firmly in the ground. The roots beneath our feet That keep the tree Steadfast and true That hold the Earth together A place to walk for me, for you And with the rain They lie exposed Exposed beneath Like fronds of pain Yet still they hold Till age and time Loosens the grip Dignified still The stately tree May yield and fall

Ripping

The rooting branches Free Exposing the depths of Earth Not seen before A gaping maw Of new promise.

What is real?

I see, what I see, but. It does not add up. A sensory mix of up and down, Light, shade and dark. An arc. A horizon reflections of sky and the feeling that something is winking an eye, Yet. Looks do appeal Though I’m not sure that what I am seeing is real

Scarcely There

Scarcely there. Just the hint of a limb, of a solid frame stately, serene a sentinel stood, a wisp of an idea an ideal lost in time. Not quite in view and yet still an inimitable Presence yearning skyward Like arms outstretched, pleading lengths. The frame Changes. In the shadows lurk tendrils of light in a fading dance of dominion.

Reaching down

We are like ants Crawling Across the face Of the earth In a constant Unrelenting Quest for more. There is no rest, No pause For the thought, for the bubbles of soft and effervescent Time.

On we crawl, Reaching down, Grasping With the inexorable Fear of death Being addressed By the stuff, the food, the substances We find To pretend we will live Forever.

Gross. Unrelenting. Unconscious. In search of the pointless Lie of celebrity Gone tomorrow. There’s little life Today

Souls at rest

Moonlight bounce off the church slate roof

From whence the chosen prey

Saving souls for the risen lord In the sunny light of day.

Souls at rest under eerie earth

Who burns and who’s at peace?

Venus watches as the worms chow down Dust to dust beneath our feet.

Starlight shining on the memory stones

Loves long lost from view Wait to greet you when you pass? There’s darkness under yew.

Ruins

Phoenix rises from the ashes of the fire

As the roses burn in the waking of desire

The shards of life around us festering still

With the fallout of paternal bitter, bitter pill. Creating life aligning hope and fears

The ruins of the past are banished to their years Building on foundations of ruinous remains The beauty of the future can wash away the pain And love will blossom here in the ruins once again.