Photosynthesis
24" X 48"oil on canvas
Original art is Sold
A fall day in 2011. Sarah, my youngest daughter, is trying her hand at a nice climbing tree in Beacon Hill Park in Victoria, B.C. She finds a good climbing tree hard to resist. At age 11, that urge might not last much longer ... note the white nail polish – a sure sign that the tomgirl phase is waning.
When I was young, our property in Edmonton, Alberta had a popular climbing tree in its front yard. This iconic tree, the largest in the area, had a trunk three feet in diametre. What made this tree so popular was that it, unlike other local trees, had a branch low enough to allow for easy access. From the age of five onward, I found I could interlock my fingers over this branch and swing my right leg up and over, then twist my body around to the top. From there, it was easy to climb higher. The neighbouring kids frequently came to climb and play. If someone ever mentioned “the tree,” we all knew exactly which tree. We made swings, dropped parachute toys and spent many enjoyable hours in and around it.
We moved to the west coast when I was seven years old. Shortly after, we heard that some kid, from another neighbourhood, had fallen out of our tree and broken both arms. Someone, perhaps the new owner, decided that the tree was a liability risk, and cut it down. Later, on a return trip to visit my grandmother, we drove past the old house. It looked naked without that wonderful tree. The remaining stump was a sad reminder of the loss. Even as a child, it occurred to me that just removing that low branch was all that had really been necessary.
I titled this painting in irony. There is very little green on this particular fall deciduous. “Photosynthesis” is a tribute to that lost tree of my youth. I consider myself an environmentalist, but that was the only tree I ever really hugged. Mark Heine
24" X 48"oil on canvas
Original art is Sold
A fall day in 2011. Sarah, my youngest daughter, is trying her hand at a nice climbing tree in Beacon Hill Park in Victoria, B.C. She finds a good climbing tree hard to resist. At age 11, that urge might not last much longer ... note the white nail polish – a sure sign that the tomgirl phase is waning.
When I was young, our property in Edmonton, Alberta had a popular climbing tree in its front yard. This iconic tree, the largest in the area, had a trunk three feet in diametre. What made this tree so popular was that it, unlike other local trees, had a branch low enough to allow for easy access. From the age of five onward, I found I could interlock my fingers over this branch and swing my right leg up and over, then twist my body around to the top. From there, it was easy to climb higher. The neighbouring kids frequently came to climb and play. If someone ever mentioned “the tree,” we all knew exactly which tree. We made swings, dropped parachute toys and spent many enjoyable hours in and around it.
We moved to the west coast when I was seven years old. Shortly after, we heard that some kid, from another neighbourhood, had fallen out of our tree and broken both arms. Someone, perhaps the new owner, decided that the tree was a liability risk, and cut it down. Later, on a return trip to visit my grandmother, we drove past the old house. It looked naked without that wonderful tree. The remaining stump was a sad reminder of the loss. Even as a child, it occurred to me that just removing that low branch was all that had really been necessary.
I titled this painting in irony. There is very little green on this particular fall deciduous. “Photosynthesis” is a tribute to that lost tree of my youth. I consider myself an environmentalist, but that was the only tree I ever really hugged. Mark Heine
