What Trees Have Taught Me About Photography
If you live in the South or anywhere on the East Coast, where many forests grow out of control with tons of underbrush like vines or rhododendron, when was the last time you encountered a tree out by itself in a nice-looking field? Meaning, completely free from by power lines, other neighboring trees or buildings, and with a nice clean background?
Moon Tree, 8/3/20. ƒ/8 30s 24mm ISO100 This image happened by accident one evening, as I was out to photograph a full moon and this tree just popped against the night sky. My moon photos from that night were nothing special, but I was super happy with this tree silhouette exposed for thirty seconds. Hannah encouraged me to set my tripod up on top of my car after I’d pretty much given up for the night. Thank you, Hannah!
When I really started getting into photography early last year it occurred to me that the simplest representation of nature is the solitary tree. I think a tree, standing alone, can symbolize strength against the elements, stoicism, peace, individualism, vitality and so many other things. So I really tried to take note of any attractive trees out on their own, doing their thing solo.
The trouble was, at first, I couldn’t find any that stood out. Many around town stand in front of cluttered, busy scenes with buildings and industrial objects such as construction tape and scaffolding. Urban landscaping is fascinating in its own right, and I thought surely I could find some good subjects by simply driving, biking or walking around. I just couldn’t make it happen, probably because I was being too picky about things like power lines, streetlights, and people, but I didn’t want any of that in my images.
Roadside Fishing Spot, North GA. ƒ/9 1/25 70mm ISO100 My first solitary tree discovery, where I go back to shoot every few months just to ‘check in’ both with this tree and my sunrise brain. It’s a special place where I love watching the world wake up.
To my surprise, the same problems arose when I ventured into nature. I thought surely I can find that unicorn out in a field, looking lonely or fiercely independent depending on conditions, time of year, lighting, and most importantly how I felt about it. I was quickly reminded that trees in nature often grow together in clusters or alongside various species of vines, smaller shrubs, and wildflowers, making for busy and distracting scenes. I know that’s not always the case but in this part of the country trees do seem to love company.
More and more I questioned the mission. Why do I even care so much in the first place? Do people value images of single trees as much as I do? Should that even matter?
Pocket Tree, 1/16/21. ƒ/9 4s 182mm ISO100 The orderly uniform background and cleared space around the more chaotically-shaped tree are what really make this image work. Contrasts of shape and color, clean and simple.
Eventually, as my search took me deeper into the back roads surrounding Chattanooga, it hit me that these 'winning’ trees do exist. Counterintuitively, they reside in the liminal spaces where nature meets civilization. They live in pastures where mountainside forests provide contrasting backgrounds, at ‘attractive distances’ such that a telephoto lens can compress them to reveal scale and detail to tell their stories. They exist in meadows previously cleared by humans for farming, and yards among the city’s ridge-line communities. There needs to have been an impact, to some degree at some point in the tree’s history, by humans on the spaces surrounding them.
This is probably intuitive to a lot of people who understands how trees work, but it was a revelation to me. Solitary trees are rare because that’s just not how they’ve evolved to exist. Groups of trees protect each other against parasites and storms, and they communicate with one another for survival via pheromones and gases like ethylene. I believe I’m drawn to single trees because their relative scarcity lends to a simple image design and metaphorical value, but the reality is groups of them are natural and healthy. Truly, whole forests are organisms while individual trees are merely their organs.
They’re just trees, sure, but they can teach a new photographer so much about composition and exploration, as well as discovery, in the early learning stages. They can offer complex shapes that can train the photographer to make sure they are placed wisely, in front of backgrounds that contribute and do not distract. They teach the lesson that says photography is an art of omission.
They force the photographer to consider every detail, from the shapes of their limbs and lighting conditions to background and foreground elements. Shooting early, the photographer will gain lessons in timing that only the sun can teach; however, having a solitary tree as a subject will give the photographer license to work angles and play with different positions, camera settings, filters, and compositions. They allow for all-important experimentation because they are eternally patient.
Trees are trees, people drive by hundreds of them every day without giving them a thought. But in my earlier months of learning photography the simple act of pursuing a decent-looking lone tree, the sheer intention of it, taught me loads about patience, persistence, technique, and the natural world around me.
I’m still learning from trees as my photography develops, though perhaps not in solitary form as much lately because other subjects have grabbed my attention. Maybe that says something about my path as a person, to an extent, in finding value in community over solitude. Bottom line is I encourage anyone new to photography, who is eager to learn the craft, to consider seeking out the lone picturesque tree before studying more complex subjects. It’s guaranteed to make a wonderful teacher.
