The English have loved ancient trees for centuries, have celebrated them in story and poetry, have given them names, sung songs and danced dances in their honour, have invested them with railings, plaques and chains. Artists and photographers have tried to portray special trees, along with special horses, people and pigs: notably Strutt in 1822 with his Sylva Britannica, or portraits of Forest Trees distinguished for their Antiquity, or Menzies in 1864 with early photographs of the remarkable trees of Windsor Great Park.
Today most professional photographers are ill at ease with trees of character. Many tree books, even those concerned with identification, are illustrated with boring, straight foresters’ trees, or with big, youngish trees silhouetted against the sky, as though all trees were meant to look much the same. I once contributed to an article about a great park full of ancient trees; alas, we sent the photographer unaccompanied, thinking he could not miss some wonderful subjects, but he had a nose for the commonplace, and returned with shots of ordinary horsechestnuts that could have been anywhere.
It took an Irish photographer, Thomas Pakenham, to do justice to what he calls the ‘remarkable trees’ of Britain, in a book which I have already commended in these pages.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in