This is quite spectacular, isn’t it? And the heavy thundery sky behind it? I suspect there may be two trees here, one with dark leaves, the other bright green.

I found a canvas, a 50x40cm job which is a bit smaller than I prefer, but a) that’s a challenge, and b) waste not want not, right? I drew out the tree and the fence in front of it using watercolour pencil then sprayed the canvas with water and let it drift. Once it had moved sufficiently, I mopped it with paper towel roll, which is what created the texture on the fence. Once that was dry, easy at the moment with the ambient temperature in the studio sizzling at around 32C, I varnished both areas. This is not to make them shiny but to make them resistant to subsequent layers such as the sky and the road, and to provide a slick surface on which to create transparency in brushstrokes.

I have no idea where that square came from!

I’ve straightened out the fence to remove a perspective detail that’s likely to distract. Similarly the buildings, although there may be hints of them in due course, depending on the story this tree might be telling.

20th June and it’s been scorching in the studio. Even now, at 5pm with the doors and windows open, it’s 32C which, as a genetic Northerner, is tantamount to desert conditions. Paint will dry on the brush between palette and canvas.

I already know I don’t like that fence.

So it’s moved on a bit. I want the sky to be darker, more foreboding, and the foliage is still quite raw and flat, even though in reality it’s anything but with all that paint loaded onto it! I think the light is flattening it too, along with the camera because it really doesn’t look flat to me.

21st June. Still flattened by light.

In these two, the easel is more upright, I’ve moved it to the point where the light hit seems to be lowest, and I’ve taken the photo from slightly further away. This seems to have reduced reflectivity and also constrained the camera’s auto-adjust function. The image on the right is much closer to my real-world experience of the painting and, of course, the experience I’ll be responding to when continuing with the painting. The shrubs and lighter foliage in the bottom quarter are fictitious and need attention. Ideally, the painting would stop at the bottom of that lowest dark line and had this been paper or card, I could have cut that off. But this is canvas and canvas is for grown-ups who wouldn’t consider that kind of option so now what?

The sky still needs to be darker but ideally also luminous so I will tackle that and see how it affects the bottom quarter because it will undoubtedly affect the balance. I do like the narrow unpainted line between the base of the tree’s foliage and the top line of the shrubs. It has the feel of an underlining and a reminder of the light being obscured by deep thundersome clouds. I need to protect that.

This piece is not at all photogenic!

Even with a white background, it’s not pulling its socks up.

Preceded by a growing dissatisfaction with the christmas tree it had become, this took a sudden handbrake turn when I thought about all the life trees support – animals, insects, microbes, and ultimately us, by way of their management of CO2 amongst very many other things. They are everything to something and our job is to look after them so they can look after life on this planet. Shouldn’t be too much to ask, should it?

The choice of colour is not about despair, it’s about the universe, its components largely hidden from us but there nevertheless. The tree can be picked out only by light catching on folds and bumps on its surface or by feeling the whole surface of the canvas. Its story is its meaning as an exchanger of gases; habitat and shade for a multitude of organisms; and for us uniquely, a source of fuel and constructed shelter.

For my next trick, I’ll try and get a decent photo!

This isn’t it.

Better but not good enough. I’ll need to wait till the sun has gone off the garden a bit more.

It’s occurred to me I could make a soundscape by running my fingers over the surface. It’s rather squeaky but with some slowing and pitch distortion, it might serve as cosmic hum. AR could be tricky though!

I have an idea.

or maybe …

‘This is a tree’, Acrylics on 40x50cm canvas.

All images and text (c) Suzanne Conboy-Hill, 2025