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Trees

a collection of blog posts on a 'Trees' theme.
Visit the Trees gallery to view and purchase works in this collection.

Tree of Life at Jacqui and Alan's

Tree of Life at Jacqui and Alan's

Mark's Tree

Mark's Tree

Mayor Val Schier and the Burning Tree.

Paul Bakker presents 'The Burning Tree' to Val Schier, mayor of the Cairns Regional Council. Photo by Clemens Vermeulen.
Last Monday, the 1st of September, I had the pleasure to deliver the painting 'The Burning Tree' to the Mayor of Cairns, The Hon Val Schier.

When I arrived in Cairns, now 9 months ago, everything was new and exiting; Kevin Rudd's new job in Canberra and Val Schier's new job in Cairns, tropical north Queensland.

And my new life in the tropics.

Appropriately, after nine months, I delivered the painting I had promised then.

We all seemed to be fine.

Our Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has made himself known to the world.

Our global Prime Minister. Fancy that, he even speaks Mandarin. He is even younger then the new French guy with the Romanian background. Younger than the British man whose face I cannot remember.

Is he younger than the next American President? I can remember his name but get it confused with the Saudi Arabian rich man hiding somewhere in Pakistan or Afghanistan.

I should be more serious. But I am not. When I was in North Carolina, visiting my 'step son', a very few years ago, I was driven through a lovely part of Ralleigh/Durrum and thought I could easily live there 'forever'. No you cannot, Hans explained, this is not for whites.......

So this last Monday Clemens drove me to the Town Hall and the painting will hang in a most honoured position opposite the Mayors desk. We took a photo. The painting is to me a painting of life. The tree is burning off its excess energy and growing on forever. An energy Val Schier has in common.

We were received by a lovely vibrant lady called Glenda. Actually, the whole office had a vibrant feeling.

Yes, I am in the land of the living.

The painting is now part of the permanent collection of the Cairns Regional Council.

phb

Arm over Mondrian's Tree

Arm over Mondrian's Tree.Parody

A parody (pronounced [ˈpɛɹədiː]), in contemporary usage, is a work created to mock, comment on, or poke fun at an original work, its subject, or author, by means of humorous or satiric imitation. As the literary theorist Linda Hutcheon (2000: 7) puts it, "parody … is , not always at the expense of the parodied text." Another critic, Simon Dentith (2000: 9), defines parody as "any cultural practice which provides a relatively polemical allusive imitation of another cultural production or practice."
Parody may be found in art or culture, including literature, music, and cinema. Parodies are colloquially referred to as spoofs or lampoons.

I promise, I'll never talk about him again. I never liked ultramarine blue too much either.

phb

Photo by Clemens Vermeulen
Reference: 'Parody' on Wikipedia

'Three Trees', acrylic on canvas, 1200x1200.

'Three Trees', acrylic on canvas, 1200x1200.

Three Trees at Sunset

'Three Trees at Sunset', acrylic on canvas, 1200x1200.
I know it is a tree again but I had this 'three trees' stuck in my face so I just did it, again. I'll get back to the 'Secret Meetings' or 'Angels Falling off the Edge of a Cliff'. Crawl back to the Pre-Raphaelites.

I spend a lot of time walking outside in the garden where I can work in the warm sun. I see the unbelievable beautiful colours of the sky and the big trees doing a silhouette. I know it's a little allegorical but then it simply IS beautiful.

When I was a student at the Royal Academy in The Hague somebody wanted me to meet this (famous) poet and his wife who had been friends with Piet Mondrian, our hero. We were expected to admire him as the Great Artist of that century. I loved his 'old' work too, but didn't say too much. Not the 'hip' thing to say then. He painted trees along the Gein river near Abcoude.

Anyway, he was walking with this lady, the lady who was treating me like a poor hungry student, in Paris around 1935. He saw something very beautiful and remarked that to her. 'But, Piet, you just told me beauty is immaterial, not spiritual enough'. He had just become a little involved with Madame Blavatsky, the Theosophist. Piet Mondriaan answered:'Oh yes, beauty is nothing'. And he walked on to New York where he died in 1944 at seventy something.

I loved the academy. The late sixties. Rembrandt's 'Night Watch', our teacher Ootje Oxenaar told us,'should be cut up and made into place mats'. 'Ja Meneer Oxenaar'.

phb

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