Treewhispers

Everyone has a tree story. I’m convinced of it. Do you remember as a child running to a tree for safe base when playing a game of tag? Do you remember plucking ruby red apples straight off a tree on a crisp fall day? Tree forts that felt larger than life are where secrets were shared and stories were created. Many memories of climbing a tree with friends—if only to see who could climb the highest—flutter past our minds eyes.

Cascading branches provided refuge from a surprise rain or grateful shade during a high noon walk. Dreams were woven amid the mist rising from the forest floor on a cool morning while rays of light filtered through the branches making you believe in fairy dust.

Just as the rings in a tree embody the stories of that tree, so too do we carry stories within us. These memories of our experiences with trees inspire us to renew our sense of wonder. They connect us to one another and deepen our understanding with nature. Many of us have discovered that trees listen quite well and some may even speak to those who listen closely. Have you spoken to a tree lately? Did you ever speculate, if you were a tree—what kind of a tree you would be?

 

TREEWHISPERS

Treewhispers is an invitation to celebrate and share tree stories. It is an evolving international collaboration of handmade paper, art, poetry, and stories relating to trees. It is a gentle awakening of the memories and our connection. 

From professionals to wee ones, participants are encouraged to make handmade paper on which to share their tree story. Through our experiences as artists and teachers we’ve witnessed something magical about the physical act of making paper. We have found that the process of making paper by hand encourages creativity. Your hands are wet from the process and you make something—it is something you know, you did it, you have it, and you are amazed!

The handmade paper contributions are round like tree rings, honoring a tree or the spirit of a tree. Some paper rounds include abstract imagery. Some suggest tree rings. Some depict leaves or a personally significant tree and others are imprinted with a poem or a meaningful story relating to trees. The handmade paper is bound together to create large tree assemblages and ultimately a forest. The installation brings together a growing, changing, powerful voice of passion and meaning for others to witness and explore—and then respond by engaging in the project—a cycle of creativity.

IT’S SOMETHING ABOUT THE TREES

Trees have always inspired my life. I’ve always felt their connection. I can remember at a very young age—through high school actually—climbing the giant elm in the front yard. I can’t really say what drew me there—but I do know that sitting in that tree, I felt—well, at home. Of course I’m amazed at their rooted stability and their resilient flexibility in the ravages of a storm but there is something more—something I can’t really pinpoint that draws me to trees. Perhaps this project, this story—is the quest for understanding.

LANGUAGE

Trees have their own language, land has its own language and people have their own language. How it’s expressed comes in many forms. Handwriting is one form that has intrigued me for as long as I can remember. I have always been particularly curious about the unique personality of everyday writing. Handwriting fluctuates between a fingerprint and an EKG—telling not only who we are but also how we are in that moment of time. 

Needless to say, I fell in love with letters (Didn’t we all?)—type, calligraphy, graffiti. I was fascinated with the concept and symbology of visible language and I fell in love with the physical act of writing and the materials it required.  I fell in love with the translucency of watercolor and opaqueness of gouache, the sultry smell of ground ink sticks and the rich dark color of sumi. I fell in love with all kinds of pens and nibs—brause, mitchel, coit and automatic—inkwells, brushes and funky things with which to write—and paper, most specifically handmade paper. Its visual, tactile quality and the way the ink flowed onto the fibrous surface impressed me. It was not just a substrate or a ground on which to work—it was a creative dance partner—and it was the late Marilyn Sward who taught me the dance. She taught me how to make paper and I’d venture to say she taught thousands. With two other artists, Marilyn opened Paper Press, a non-profit papermaking studio and gallery offering a venue for exploring the artform. I followed this paper trail with her and others around Chicago for many years.

LISTENING

Another trail that beaconed me was the bike trail through the forest preserve. It’s a good day if it begins with a bike ride through the trees. Not only is it great exercise, I’ve come to learn that these early morning bike rides are not only exercise but also a meditation—although meditation wasn’t really my intention. To be honest, most of my rides start with incessant mind chatter as I head out through the alley onto residential streets to get to the bike path in the woods. The yammering continues even as I ride along the lagoon watching the geese mill about—but I’m starting to take note. 

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The first noisy half of the ride is followed by a quieting of the mind—stillness, awareness and presence—presence to the bike path—the yellow center line and tar filled cracks, presence to the bird’s soaring, the trees marking time in the season, the single leaf falling prematurely in the early summer and those few leaves still clinging to the branches when all the others have fallen; presence to the wind on my face, the cerulean blue sky, the native grasses bowing to the breeze and an occasional deer who guardedly turns to watch me ride by. It is in the quieting of the mind—the second half of the ride where ideas, visions, voices, intuitive insights—call them what you may—present themselves. 

It was there where with a sideways glance into the woods I first saw Treewhispers—and it was there many weeks later where the name was whispered somewhere in that space between letting go and listening.

POSSIBILITIES

The dilemma in having had such a so-called vision is that one must then understand how to realize it. Possibilities emerged and ideas flitted around my head although I’ll have to admit that most of these thoughts were in regard to the doingness, the practical, technical end. 

My schedule for that particular day included dropping off artwork at Marilyn’s house in Evanston for an exhibit that she was curating. I had instructions on where to leave the work if she wasn’t home—she usually wasn’t. Marilyn was always on the go—teaching, speaking, plotting and planning her next move in the art or gardening world—yet, much to my surprise and in the spirit of synchronicity, she answered the doorbell. She was home. 

She invited me in for a glass of fresh squeezed lemonade and excitedly I shared the idea of the trees, the paper—and the vision. With Marilyn’s work and interests deeply rooted in nature, it seemed obvious this would be a great project on which to collaborate. We talked and brainstormed for hours—knowing the ideas being conceived were not about us, but rather about the trees, the earth, the people, and paper—the stories and their connections. And so, I would have to say the inception of Treewhispers was there on Marilyn’s front porch in Evanston on that warm summer day. 

SEEDING THE PROJECT

Marilyn had a papermaking studio near their family’s beautiful log home that was tucked along a lake in the northern woods of Wisconsin. We headed up there later that summer and made hundreds of paper rounds to seed the project.

The setting amongst the dense, fragrant, leggy pine trees couldn’t have been more perfect. These rounds were soon to be used in packets as keepsakes for the International Papermakers Conference in Italy where Marilyn shared the project with other kindred spirits.

The word spread in a Johnny Apple Seed kind of way after that, sharing it with everyone we knew and asking if he or she had a tree story. Did they ever climb a tree? Have a favorite tree or plant a tree?

NEW GROWTH

Lo and behold, we found that people did have tree stories! I can still remember the thrill of receiving our first giant box of paper rounds from an elementary school teacher from Gurnee, IL. It’s one of those stories that seems so ironic—she came to a garage sale I was having. After looking around, she asked if I was an artist. (My daughter commented that our stuff, different from other people’s stuff was a tip off.) Well, her interest in my stuff was the perfect introduction. I shared details about the project and she excitedly headed off with the promise of paper rounds. 

With simply an art cart, this incredible art teacher orchestrated paper making for the entire elementary program. Amazing! The children ripped up their old homework and various other bits of colorful recycled material. Combining it with water in a household blender, they pulped it into slurry then added it to the vat. (When I say vat, it was a simple plastic dish tub.) With embroidery hoops and window screening for their papermaking moulds and deckles, they made round sheets of paper much to their delight. There’s nothing quite like your first sheet of handmade paper. The wet round forms were placed on the windows to dry—and when they were dried, they peeled the flat sheets off the glass and they wrote their tree stories and drew their tree pictures.

And so when they arrived, we read through each one, celebrating what those little hands had created—and bound our first tree from paper rounds. As we strung the work we could see who the writers were—the poets, the jokesters—(what do a dog and a tree have in common? The bark.) 

Now looking back on it, binding that first tree seemed somehow sacred—reminding me of quilters who bind not only the fabric, but also that piece of time, the conversations and laughter that transpires during the physical act of sewing. We realized that the time and energy of those who made the paper and told their stores were bound in as well. 

Technically speaking we were led to bind the trees in 5-6 foot segments so that we could customize the height of the tree and alter the segments in each venue. One segment might be near the ceiling in one gallery and eye level in the next. Bookbinding thread is used to bind them and each paper round is stabilized with a small, recycled rubber disc and lead weight.

PAPERMAKING AND SCHLEPPING

In order to create a tree, let alone a forest, we needed a lot more of those 5-6 foot segments and a lot more boxes of those enchanted rounds. Marilyn and I schlepped buckets of pulp and papermaking equipment to the Field Museum, the Morton Arboretum and the Kohl Children’s Museum to share our love for paper, for the earth—teaching others a simple papermaking technique often using recycled paper. 

The project has been an impetus for many to learn about the art, craft and chemistry of papermaking. It has been embraced by calligraphy and papermaking guilds, colleges and universities, elementary and high schools, home schools, nursery schools, 4H groups and Scout troops. Two young students from Washington included the project in their art and science fair, explaining the historical origin of paper and the science of hydrogen bonding—all while demonstrating the process of papermaking. 

A visiting professor of art from Chicago enthusiastically integrated the project into her altered book and paper curriculum at Jiujiang University in China. The students were giddy making paper on her outdoor balcony with materials they collectively and creatively gathered from the local neighborhood.   

Papermakers in Victoria, Australia had a day of papermaking and exhibited the work in a gallery before sending it along. Tree huggers at the Day of Renewal in Indiana joined in the celebration. Calligraphers were rallied to share their stories and beautiful lettering at the Odyssey Conference in 2001.

The 2007 Child Life Conference in New York included papermaking demonstrations for Treewhispers, finding it met their criteria “incorporating nature within the hospital setting; encouraging a sense of normalcy; providing tactile stimulation; engaging story telling; maintaining a sense of control and choice; promoting the release of social, emotional and physical stress experienced from hospitalization; fostering support; and is fun!” 

Students from an inner city high school collaborated with students from a private suburban academy to make paper and share stories for this project. To physically ground them for the experience as well as to titillate their imagination, they were invited to engage in a visualization, imagining themselves as trees. After a few preliminary snickers and elbow jabs, thirty-five strapping high school students stood stone silent around a circle with their eyes closed—imagining themselves as trees as they sent roots into the ground and branches to the cosmos. It was a powerful experience on which to launch the spirited papermaking extravaganza.

Professional artists have created work specifically for the project; writers have shared their stories; and biologists, foresters, and botanists have shared the technical view from their field in stories and collaged pictures on paper rounds. Parents have written stories for children too young to write and young adults have gleaned stories from their grandparents or elderly friends in the nursing home who were too crippled to hold a pen.

With the gathering and binding of paper rounds from around the world, the installations reverberated for others. While installed at the Newberry Library, Columbia College Chicago Center for Book and Paper, the Chicago Botanic Garden, Nicolet College and other venues—whether it was a destination or a surprise find—visitors were greeted with the palpable resonance of all those who had shared their stories and their art. Here is an e-mail I received after the exhibit in 2009 which exemplifies this:

Ever since Saturday I’ve been wanting to write to you…

The installation of Treewhispers and your presentation were so moving and wonderful in so many ways. It’s the third time that I’ve been at a Treewhispers installation and each time it pulls different emotions from me. This time, because I was with family, those relationships that I had with trees as a kid growing up on a farm were front and center— planting 100 trees with my brothers as a 4-H project, climbing my favorite basswood tree as a kid, watching my father and grandfather fell trees for the winter wood supply. After the reception, the family members that had trekked from Wisconsin and Minnesota along with my Illinois daughters went out to eat. Pam, you would have been so impressed how your presentation dictated the dinner conversation. Everyone had their tree stories to tell and it was good.  I think we covered a great number of species—basswood, pine, elm, box elder, sycamore, oak, maple (both red and silver) and ash.  Some were funny, some stupid, some sad and a few current.  Of course one of my favorites is my husband telling of his dedication and failure to grow an Oak tree from an acorn – 35 years and he still doesn’t have an oak tree—it must be that Norwegian stubbornness that keeps him going. It was such a delightful evening and I learned things about his family that I never knew— we’ve been married for 38 years. And my daughters heard stories from my brother and sister that they will treasure. Thank you.

LETTING GO

The project has always had an energy of it’s own—like seasons, not always congruent with ours might I add. I suppose I could liken it to planting a tree with a lot of nurturing and watering initially, knowing that there is a time for new growth and blossoming, a time of great autumn beauty and a time of dormancy—each season significant to the cycles in life.

It seems somehow profound to me that after a long dormant period the installation was slated to be exhibited in July 2008 at the International Conference in Lettering Arts in Naperville. Marilyn, my dear friend, mentor and co-creator of Treewhispers was in hospice at that time, yet still quietly responding, still excited about the possibilities. 

The exhibition was beautiful and well received by the calligraphic community as well as the general public—and she knew. She left this earthly life in August of that year. The project continues to grow with the memory of her generous, loving and creative spirit.

MANY VOICES, ALTERNATE FORMS

I have heard thousands and thousands of incredible stories in this quest—many from some who thought they knew none. These personal stories about experiences with trees span funny to frightening and some will make your heart ache. Each one unique and personal, yet a common thread runs through them all. At the recent installation at the Chicago Botanic Gardens volunteers agreed to count the paper rounds in the gallery, quite a feat, I might add. Just over 5000 were accounted for. Interestingly this is the same number of trees my dad has planted in the last several years his hometown—a small rural community in Northwest Iowa.

The project has provided a space for pausing and remembering a tree, perhaps providing a brief moment of gratitude to the miraculous aspects of trees. Marilyn and I realized from the start that this project was not about us as individuals—but rather about the trees, the earth, the people, and paper—the stories and their connections—commonplace stories, personal experiences and observations where details merge into awareness. Together we create a panoramic vision of our earthly experience.

GRATITUDE

I am forever grateful for the thousands of papermakers, artists, writers, students and lovers of trees who have already shared their stories and their art—as well as those who have assisted in the exhibitions, the website, editing text for various venues, and the nitty-gritty of making a passion realized. The people who have shared their talents, ideas, and resources are innumerable. I have come to realize there is little that I do I life that is not a collaboration.

The invitation to participate is still extended to each and everyone—invited to recall those memories and connections to trees. On flat round handmade paper—any size, write your personal tree story, draw your favorite tree or compose a sentimental or silly tree poem. Simple papermaking instructions, frequently asked questions, and the address for sending are listed on the website <www.treewhispers.com>.

 

TAKE A WALK

On a walk last winter I was marveling at a pine tree in the snow, loaded with little pinecones. I just stood and looked at them in awe—had I not really seen them before? I thought of hope, new life that these little pinecones held within them—the promise of a tree, many trees actually.  I thought about the quiet spaces of time in which these little pinecones grew at the end of the evergreen branches—the miracle of life—and the space in between.

On your next walk, through the woods or even in your own backyard, take a few moments and just see if a tree “speaks to you”—and if it does, stand quietly near to it. Experience this tree as a living “being”. With each breath you take honor this symbiotic relationship. Observe the leaves that create the shade for you—absorbing the sunlight for photosynthesis. Imagine the roots that reach deep within the earth to sustain it. Consider the sap rising. Close your eyes and touch the bark or a delicate limb. How does it feel beneath your fingertips? Is it smooth or rough, warm or cool? Smell the cool earth or the fragrant spring blooms. Listen for the gentle rustling of the leaves or perhaps the silence. Listen—and wonder.

THE VISIONARIES

Pamela Paulsrud visual artist, papermaker and calligrapher and long time member of the CCC followed the paper trail around Chicago earning a MFA with a focus in book and paper from Columbia College Chicago. Her work is inspired by nature, language and resonance. She freelances and teaches workshops in lettering and book arts while continuing to pursue her long time interest in the healing arts.

After receiving her BFA degree with honors in painting at the University of Illinois, Marilyn Sward learned to make paper by hand. Forty years later she said that was still the most important fact. Marilyn was one of the founders of Paper Press who brought papermaking to Chicago. In the late 1980’s her organization was merged with Artists’ Book Works, which formed the Center for Book & Paper Arts at Columbia College. After founding it she was the director and chair of the MFA in Book and Paper Arts. She also was Adjunct Associate Professor in Fibers at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her professional accomplishments: the boards she sat on, the publications she helped foster are numerous. 

 

 

This page has the following sub pages.

• The Artists
• In Memory