peace (tree story #156-157)

“I will make a covenant of peace with my people and drive away the dangerous animals from the land. Then they will be able to camp safely in the wildest places and sleep in the woods without fear. I will bless my people and their homes around my holy hill. And in the proper season I will send the showers they need. There will be showers of blessing. The orchards and fields of my people will yield bumper crops, and everyone will live in safety. When I have broken their chains of slavery and rescued them from those who enslaved them, then they will know that I am the Lord. They will no longer be prey for other nations, and wild animals will no longer devour them. They will live in safety, and no one will frighten them.

“And I will make their land famous for its crops, so my people will never again suffer from famines or the insults of foreign nations. In this way, they will know that I, the Lord their God, am with them. And they will know that they, the people of Israel, are my people, says the Sovereign Lord. You are my flock, the sheep of my pasture. You are my people, and I am your God. I, the Sovereign Lord, have spoken!”

Ezekiel 34: 25-31

prosperity (tree story #161-162)

My ears are filled with the sounds of promise:
"Good people will prosper like palm trees,
Grow tall like Lebanon cedars;
transplanted to God's courtyard,
They'll grow tall in the presence of God,
lithe and green, virile still in old age."

Such witnesses to upright God!
My Mountain, my huge, holy Mountain!

Psalm 92: 11-15

ghost (tree story #92)

It was just as she said it would be: the reddish light glancing off the hill, filtering through the summer’s yellowing grass. I was close to where the blue oak should be. “Stop,” I said, for no other reason than to hear a sound other than the scrub jay’s shrill retorts, the barb-wire twanging from a breeze somewhere along the fence’s many-miled length. I knelt to sit momma’s ashes down in the grass. Instead of the soft thud, porcelain against earth, there was a resounding thunk. I swept away pebbled dirt and wisps of straw-grass, to find - momma’s tree, leveled by something stronger than the 50 years that had passed since she was last here. A deep cleft scarred the trunk where lightning had broken it like a promise. I pulled the faded picture from my back pocket; the tree momma spent much of her childhood around now only existed on its yellowing surface. In the evening light, the blue oak seemed to shimmer and ghost across the film: gone was the knot where it had grown around the barb wire fence, metal sticking out its trunk like a rotted tooth; gone were the limbs stretching like compass points over the horizon to anywhere except here; gone was momma’s name carved with a chunk of broken glass; gone was momma’s wish to climb it one last time. The meadow swayed arid and dusty in the heat as I picked up the jar, the orange of the sunset arcing across the porcelain. I started to pull the top off the vase, then put it back on, tucked the vase under my arm and walked back across the field to my car. Momma had come too far to find out she could never go home.

Indigo Moor

meditations (tree story #78)

Faithful tree! Freeing us from your forbidden ancestor’s curse,
The birthplace of empty promises and lies.
Pestilence and toil, war and hatred, pride and fear and despair
-The tyranny of sin and death-
All find their ultimate end when the gardener
Nails payment to your branches.

Tree of beauty! Not resin but blood flowing down those branches,
Blood to wash the world from stain,
Blood to reconcile wayward sons and daughters to the Father,
Blood to make one people.

Sweet tree! None in fruit thy peer may be.
Your long-awaited Divine fruit giving nourishment,
Only antidote to the toxic ancient fruit,
Fruit to produce fruit.
The purchased feast under your boughs,
The beloved discovers that she has become someone else
As the crimson juice trickles down her chin.

Tree of victory! Among your branches the partridge rules over the serpent,
And the aged remember the first dawn and recognize the day:
The second creation, pardoned and beyond tarnish or corruption.

Glorious tree! Leaves unfurling after the frost
Drink the Light and prove that Winter’s spell has broken.
Lush foliage erupting over the hills testifies to this newness of life,
Quivering silver medallions hanging from tender stems whisper of riches beyond measure.
Great tree, point heavenward lest I forget the ever-circling Sovereignty.


Karen Garven

the taller tree (tree story #68)

I was in China on a mission. One of the many things we did on this adventure was meet at this small tea house for something called English Corner. English Corner was a chance for some of the locals to come in and practice their English with those who were fluent. I got a chance to hold a conversation with an older Chinese woman who happened to be a single mother of one little girl. During our conversation she seemed to not only be able to practice her English with me but started to open up to me about what was currently stressing her. She was sad for her daughter. She had noticed that her daughter of eight years old had begun to develop a strong artistic talent. The little girl wanted so bad to be an artist and she constantly practiced her creativity at home and in school. What saddened the mother was that this was not acceptable in their culture. Her family was against it, the school was against it and the little girl’s friends made fun of her. The lady then explained that in this place it is not acceptable to be the taller tree. That everyone must be on the same plane as everyone else. The little girl was not allowed to branch out, she must remained pruned back. Her daughter was a tree that could not become the full majesty that she was created to be. She wished so bad that she could send her daughter to America where her daughter could grow among the shores of freedom. Ever since this conversation I realized how blessed I have been to grow in a place that encourages artistic growth. I pray for this girl even to this day. I even had a dream that she was able to finally grow beyond the trees next to her and become the height that God had planned for her talents. This tree story is dedicated to this little girl.

Jared Konopitski

under the shade (tree story #50)

One day the angel of God came and sat down under the oak in Ophrah that belonged to Joash the Abiesrite, whose son Gideon was threshing wheat in the winepress, out of sight of the Midianites. The angel of God appeared to him and said, “God is with you, O mighty warrior!”
Gideon replied, “With me, my master? If God is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all the miracle-wonders our parents and grandparents told us about, telling us, ‘Didn’t God deliver us from Egypt?’ The fact is, God has nothing to do with us - he has turned us over to Midian.”
But God faced him directly: “Go in this strength that is yours. Save Israel from Midian. Haven’t I just sent you?”
Gideon said to him, “Me, my master? How and with what could I ever save Israel? Look at me. My clan’s the weakest in Manesseh and I’m the runt of the litter.”
God said to him, “I’ll be with you. Believe me, you’ll defeat Midian as one man.”
Gideon said, “If you’re serious about this, do me a favor: Give me a sign to back up what you’re telling me. Don’t leave until I come back and bring you my gift.”
He said, “I’ll wait till you get back.”
Gideon went and prepared a young goat and a huge amount of unraised bread (he used over half a bushel of flour!). He put the meat in a basket and the broth in a pot and took them back under the shade of the oak tree for a sacred meal.
The angel of God said to him, “Take the meat and unraised bread, place them on the rock, and pour the broth on them.” Gideon did it.
The angel of God stretched out the tip of the stick he was holding and touched the meat and the bread. Fire broke out of the rock and burned up the meat and bread while the angel of God slipped away out of sight. And Gideon knew it was the angel of God!
Gideon said, “Oh no! Master, God! I have seen the angel of God face to face!”
But God reassured him, “Easy now. Don’t panic. You won’t die.”
Then Gideon built an altar there to God and named it “God’s Peace.” It’s still called that at Ophrah of Abiezer.

Judges 6

reunion (tree story #17)

Took a drive over to James’ and Janet’s property - some day a retirement home will be there - wandered around and talked of plans, admired views, this cluster of trees marks the property line at one point.

Back at Butch and Linda’s I set off to wander again. Little cousin Edie wants to come along, so I sit down by the naked ladies to wait for her to put her shoes on. Edie takes me for a walk and shows me the creek through the gate, just off the property. This is her grandparents’ house and she knows her way around pretty well - as well as any seven-year-old would. But I think Edie took me through poison - I hope not - I was watching her instead of watching out.

We wander back onto the property; Edie finds her brother’s long lost hat and her long lost doll. We camp out on the big rock outcropping I stopped at yesterday and I let her shoot a few frames on the Izone, I shoot a couple with the Land Camera. “Grandma and Grandpa’s woods” hold high adventure: Edie climbs a tree to fetch an old light switch plate made of clear blue plastic and adorned with silver glitter. Old treasures abound here.

The light is fading - I’m guessing it’s time to head back.

Judith Monroe, Wanderings journal

new work under way

I'm now working on the next piece for "Chapter Two", called "With Eager Hope" (Tree Story #108) I'll post some of my progress on my "Wanderings" blog soon.



With Eager Hope

"What we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are. Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us. We were given this hope when we were saved. (If we already have something, we don’t need to hope for it. But if we look forward to something we don’t yet have, we must wait patiently and confidently.)"

Romans 8:18-25

longing for the wind's embrace (tree story #139)

Just finished a new tree story, but I'm only sharing a bit of detail; I'll release all the images concurrently with the next gallery show in March.



The finished work is a black & white photo with mixed media on a 24"x36" canvas and has been given rave reviews by those close enough to me to have seen it. ;)

This is Tree Story #139, with story by Magnus Holmgren, check it out here.

valley roots

A very personal tree story: My mother grew up on an almond ranch in California's Central Valley, symbolized by the pear orchard image in this piece. The small photo was taken in the family's chicken yard on the ranch. Buttons represent the long line of seamstresses that I come from (I sewed my own first complete outfit at age twelve.) And the text in the lower right hand corner is part of the story of how my great grandmother's family came out to California from Kansas.

(This piece is not for sale, but I can create similar type commissioned works for your family to cherish for many years.)

memories

A little tree story - black & white photograph in mixed media collage on 12x12" canvas.

late afternoon (tree story #16)

Sitting in the shade of a big bush while the kids build their “animal shack research lab” for the wildlife they find and catch. So far they have a tiny tree frog carefully kept in a peanut butter jar, named Goldie for her color. They also have a table and the outline of walls.

Their activity has sent any other obvious wildlife into hiding. Of course, the gunshots from the back porch target shooting have a way of leaving utter silence in their wake.

As human activity quiets I can hear the faint peeps and chirps of birds some distance away, the occasional buzz of a passing insect and the far off call of what I presume is a donkey.

Wandering away from the house I happen upon three or four birds - I think they’re young wild turkeys - perfect tawny camouflage in the dry brown grasses. They slowly wander away from me but don’t seem bothered by the constant noise of child play that echoes out over the land. (The gunshots have ceased - the men like most to look at and hold the antique guns they’ve exercised.)

The sloped land is uneven with plenty of creature holes. I’m not sure I want to know who lives where. A rodent here, a rodent there and a reptile over there for sure. Where the grasses haven’t been mown for fire safety they stand two feet high, alternating with patches where weather or foot has pressed them down. I watch carefully where I put my feet for holes, poison oak and creatures. This part of the property that hasn’t been cleared of trees in an open oak forest with an occasional struggling pine. Here the oaks rule.

Everything here is dry now except for the trees and the oak seedlings. Pine seedlings look like they may not survive, at least not well. I’ve mad a perch of a large outcropping covered in dry crunchy moss. I guess it must hold the hidden potential to come alive once the rains start. Next to the outcropping is a small bushy plant that reminds me of the sage in my herb garden. Long dusty green leaves that seem impervious to drought.

(“I caught a grasshopper!” echoes down the hill amidst other excited cries...)

I better get back to the house to clear my negs - I forgot to bring along a baggie and I’d cry if they dried out and were a loss...

Judith Monroe, Wanderings journal

true love (tree story #27)

More from chapter 2: True Love is a black & white photo with mixed media on a 24x24" canvas. There are twelve palm trees, which is a symbol for Israel, also sometimes a representation of the tree of life, which gives eternal life.

Currently available, prices are temporarily lower... email me for details.

Text:

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep a score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

(1 Corinthians 13)

her self (tree story #7)

Chapter 2 in the original series - now on canvas - new works will come as well. This piece is 24x24" black & white photo and mixed media on canvas ($850). Available, in fact the varnish is still tacky...

Here's the original poem:

Her Self

I was born a tree,
or so they tell me.
I don't remember.
It was so long ago.
But there was a moment
of greeness, of stretching
upward, flexing my limbs,
uncurling my hands into
leafy sprouts. I watched them
grow, lengthen, broaden
as my body did too.

I remember the seed.
Translucent, double-winged,
borrowed from a dragon-fly,
to let the tiny pod twirl
downward to the open
earth. That's where my
coloring came from --
wood-shaded skin,
peat-brown hair, changeling
eyes flecked with day-moon
blue, mossy green, bronze
lights that sometimes look
like turquoise.

A tree? Yes. With fists full
of air, rain sliding down
my arms, shoulders,
ankles, back to the moist
earth with its startled grasses
upright in their importance.
There were birds that paused
on their journeys, nested
in the crook of my arm,
or on my palm,
sharing their long memories
with their young, with me.
I was born a tree.

Brigit Truex


You can see the original image here.

love

The last in this little series, another 8x8" mixed media collage, $95 currently at my studio in Midtown Sacramento, contact me for details.

joy

another 8x8" mixed media collage on canvas, $95 - contact for availability ;)

hope

Mixed media on 8x8" canvas - sorry, already sold. Contact me to commission something similar.

faith

Black & white photo in mixed media collage on 8x8" canvas - $95 - contact me for current availability.