My struggles with the Oaks

Staverton Oaks - drypoint etching on tetra paks

I took a trip to Staverton in the last week of April. I wanted to capture that moment when the oak leaves have just come out with all their luminescence. I had three days and booked in to Wantisden Campsite.. a stone’s throw from Staverton, glamping in one of their ‘wooden tents’ with a large double bed, clean sheets, electricity and a kettle.

Each day I wrestled with how on earth to capture the park. I started early and the light was beautiful, with long shadows and shafts of bright green grass between the trees, shots of vibrant green in the canopy and the dark purpley silhouettes of the old gnarled trees dancing in a writhing spidery ensemble.

It was a while before I settled in to my solitary work. Being alone in the 200 acre park felt eerie. The whole forest would begin to crackle, a noise not unlike rain, as tiny pieces of tree, twig, flower and leaf fell onto the ground when a breeze stirred. Miniature green caterpillars landed on my arms and legs. Loud movements in the undergrowth had me nervously peering round. Deer. I came upon pheasants snuggling down in the grass and my days were punctuated by two cuckoos calling to each other across the park. I began to relax.

It took me three full days to do anything that I was pleased with. I attempted acrylics, inks, watercolours, but in the end it was drawing that I needed to focus on.. I found myself continually drawn to one area of the park, where you could see the trunks of the ancient trees stretching away to a distant open area. This is where I began to find a language for this extraordinary place. As I walked along a now familiar path back to my car on the last day, a cuckoo flew around me, calling as it dipped from tree to tree - the first time I’ve ever seen one. What a privilege.

Originally appeared in the Arborealist’s Spring newsletter