The Sycamore tree, belonging to Earth’s oldest clan of trees, Planataceae, presides regally over every landscape it graces. Look out over winter’s bone yard when the sky is this planet’s deepest blue and linger on the pristine white branches of these iconic giants.
The bark of all trees must yield to a growing trunk but the Sycamore invites the world to witness its growth as its outer layers, intractable and dusty with age, split and spall in great irregular masses. This bark, like shed skin or old beliefs or lessons learned, settles on the ground at the base of each mammoth; proof in the form of a disappearing halo, that life means growth--painful, messy, necessary.
Halo
Installation
Sycamore bark
16' x 16'
September 2010
