Oak trees and thoughts on Caspar David Friedrich’s painting “The Lone Tree”

Caspar David Friedrich’s painting Der einsame Baum (“The Lone Tree”) (see below, upper) features an oak tree that demands the attention of the observer. Clouds seem to form a shallow dome over it and the foothills of the distant mountains behind the tree slope down on either side to further emphasise its presence. The tree retains most of its leaves, but the uppermost branches appear dead and this is a feature of old oak trees [1,2]. Without going into the complex causes of this dieback, it is common to see oak trees with apparently dead branches in the crown. I saw a pedunculate oak (Quercus robur) with dead branches while driving through Forncett in Norfolk (see below, lower – I should state that I parked my motor car before taking the image using my mobile telephone). Further examples can be seen in three oaks from an avenue in Berkhamsted (shown below, bottom), with a vigorous healthy tree on the left; a tree with some die-back in the centre; and a tree with more developed die-back on the right. It is highly unlikely that leaves will re-appear in these dead and dying branches in future seasons.

Many deciduous trees that produce new leaves in spring also show a powerful ability to regenerate after having been damaged, often intentionally by tree surgeons [3]. We have a local example: a London plane that recovered its loss of leaves after a few months (see below). When the tree had its branches lopped, I felt a little sad, but I knew that the tree would recover and produce new shoots and leaves. It was quite different to watching the leaves falling in autumn, itself a mildly sad event, although I know that this promotes the essential cycling of organic matter. Once dead, however, even deciduous trees are not going to recover and they leave a ghostly lattice of branches that have their own appeal, not just to Friedrich but to other artists, like David Hockney or Trevor Grimshaw [4,5].

Looking at Friedrich’s painting Der einsame Baum (“The Lone Tree”) in more detail, we see the symbolism involved. Of course, we don’t know what the artist was thinking when he painted the work, but we can attempt some explanations. I take as my excuse for making this analysis a quote attributed to Friedrich and given in Grave’s book [6] “…thus it is a great merit, maybe the greatest thing the artist is capable of, when he touches the spirit and arouses thoughts, feelings and emotions in the beholder, even if these are not his own”.

In the distance are massive mountains, showing the blue colouring of Rayleigh scattering that indicates that they are far away. Our vision thus meets a barrier, a device used by many painters, and we are deflected back to the main subjects of the work. As we come “out” of the painting and away from the sloping foothills, we see smoke from the chimneys of houses in a village that also has a church with a spire (see below, upper). The plain is then crossed by a row of trees with cottages and what appears to be a ruined church, and nearer to us are more trees growing next to a pond and some of the oaks have dieback in their upper branches (see below, lower). Dieback here appears advanced and there is the stump of one tree, indicating the eventual fate of all of them. Then we come to our main subject, the solitary oak, against the trunk of which rests a shepherd, with his flock scattered around him, while the foreground also has another pond. The painting was one of a pair commissioned by Joachim Wagener and completed in 1822, the other being Moonrise over the Sea. They were to represent evening and morning, so we know that Der einsame Baum shows the morning light and the shepherd has been with his flock from the early hours, if not through the night. We can also surmise that it is early autumn as the smoke coming from chimneys suggests a chill in the air, yet the tees are in full leaf.

So, what of the symbolism? I will describe my interpretation using headings.

The mountains

The mountains not only provide a backdrop for the scene, but they are also massive and continue into the distance. Their magnificence is awe-inspiring and reminds us of the sublime and, in turn, the peacefulness of the rural scene that we focus upon.

The church(es)

The churches are symbols of Christianity and all that is involved in that religion. We assume that Christianity is important to those living in the village, who will thus believe in Heaven, and in life after death, accepting that Jesus Christ died, and was resurrected, to save us from sin. The painting also suggests strongly the importance of Nature as a source of spirituality, something that was of special importance to Friedrich [6]. As Caroline Levisse writes: “ …according to Friedrich, it is possible to find in the world around us scenery, objects, and phenomena that can elicit a religious experience” [7]. (If the building in the near distance is a ruined church, I cannot provide an explanation for its existence in the painting, other than that it is based on a real landscape. Why is it ruined, if it is a church?).

Impending death

Oak trees showing naked branches at the crown are likely dying and thus present a metaphor for our own impending death. This is a dominant feature of the lone oak we see and, while it continues to live after shedding its leaves in autumn and then producing more in spring, it has only a limited time span before it dies and becomes a stump. Stumps have strong appeal and a local example (see below, upper [and since fallen]) became a totem for me, just as the stump of a felled tree in east Yorkshire did for David Hockney until it was vandalised [4] (below, lower). Looking at the oak in Friedrich’s painting, we thus drift to thoughts of our own death, while continuing to be alive, even after parts of our body begin to fail (although we are nor deciduous, of course).

The living oak tree produces successors that grow from acorns, and many humans produce offspring that survive us. This leads us to the idea that life continues after death, reminding us of the selfish gene concept and the “immortality” of genes. Thoughts then turn to the idea of life after death and whether there is a hereafter for the soul, or not. Then we are drawn to ideas of reincarnation on Earth or the passage to some spiritual domain, both of which can bring comfort.

Isolation and loneliness

The isolation of the oak tree poses an important question from a biological perspective – how did it get here? It will have grown from an acorn, but how did the acorn get to this position, when there is no evidence of there being a parent oak tree or, indeed, other oak trees close by? Perhaps it was carried by an animal, or moved there by a child?

I asked members of my family what the painting meant to them and the dominant reply was a sense of loneliness, fitting given the title of the work and its focus on dying. In the time leading up to death it is possible to be very lonely; after all we are the ones going through the process. We die alone and we are likely to feel the loneliness of this in our last hours or days, even when surrounded by family.

The shepherd

As the painting is set in the early morning, and the shepherd is with his flock (see below), and may have been through the night, he is clearly both attentive and protective. This reminds us of Jesus as the Good Shepherd quoted in St John’s gospel in the Holy Bible (Authorised King James Version, chapter 10 verse 14): “I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine.” The symbolism in Friedrich’s painting may thus carry the Christian message that, after death, one’s soul can only enter Heaven if we are in the flock of Christian believers.

Water

Trees require water to grow and it is transmitted to their leaves via a complex of xylem vessels. It is then, together with carbon dioxide and sunlight, converted into simple sugars during photosynthesis, a process that is mediated by the green pigment chlorophyll. Trees without leaves, like those that are lopped or have dying branches, will have a reduced ability to generate sugars and, unless more leaves are produced, the tree will not produce sufficient energy to maintain growth or, in some cases, survival. Water is thus essential for tree growth and the lone oak in Der einsame Baum is located next to a pond, so water is unlikely to be limiting.

We are again drawn to St John’s Gospel in the Holy Bible (Authorised King James Version, chapter 4 verse 14): “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I [Jesus] shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” This reference to water, so important for living organisms, means that the ponds shown in Friedrich’s painting provide us with a metaphor for the importance of Christian faith in allowing eternal life

It all points to Friedrich’s Christian religious beliefs. Crosses, large crucifixes and churches feature prominently in his work, alongside trees and landscapes. Whether one is sympathetic to his beliefs, or not, the subjects in Der einsame Baum show how paintings can offer us thought-provoking images that capitalise on our fear of ageing and death and how this fear can be alleviated. One can only wonder what was in Friedrich’s mind when he created the work and ponder whether it was anything like my interpretation That aside, it’s a marvellous painting by a true Romantic.

[1] https://ati.woodlandtrust.org.uk/how-to-record/species-guides/oak/

[2] https://www.forestresearch.gov.uk/tools-and-resources/fthr/pest-and-disease-resources/chronic-oak-decline-dieback/

[3] https://penritharborist.com.au/the-future-protecting-that-trees-regenerate-after-being-cut-down-for-a-sustainable-environment

[4] Martin Gayford (2016) A Bigger Message: Conversations with David Hockney. Thames & Hudson, London.

[5] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2022/09/trevor-grimshaw-and-caspar-david.html

[6] Johannes Grave (2012) Caspar David Friedrich. Prestel, Munich

[7] https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2024/31-may/features/features/caspar-david-friedrich-faith-on-canvas

 

 

 

 

An Artist who loved Virgin Nature

Most visitors to Room 41 of the National Gallery in London come to see the collection of works by well-known Impressionist painters. The room also contains the only painting by Akseli Gallen-Kallela in the Gallery: a view of Lake Keitele in Finland, the country where the artist was born and lived for much of his life. In an earlier blog post I compared the atmosphere created by this work and by the 5th Symphony of Sibelius [1], both being strongly Nordic. However, while the music of Sibelius is well known, the art of Gallen-Kallela is less familiar to most of us, as music travels more easily than paintings and frescoes, although modern illustrations make copies available widely. As young men, Sibelius and Gallen-Kallela shared a passion for both Nature and Finnish traditions [2] and were part of Symposium, an influential group of young creative artists who met to discuss Finnish national identity at a time when the country was a Grand Duchy of Russia. Their interest focussed on Karelia (a large part of which was ceded to the Soviet Union after the Second World War) and this region had a profound effect on Gallen-Kallela.

I made my first extended visit to Finland in the winter of 1976 and my hostess, knowing perhaps of my interest in paintings, took me to the Gallen-Kallela Museum at Tarvaspää. After leaving the tram stop, we walked across part of a frozen lake and it was so cold that the snow covering the ice was scattered as we walked, forming a glittery haze. There was something magical in that as I had never seen it before so, on arrival at the museum, I was especially receptive to viewing the works on display. I was not disappointed and followed up this visit by looking at as many pictures by this great artist as I could during my stay in Helsinki. Having spent the summers of 1975 and 1976 in the north of Sweden, I developed a love of Nordic wilderness but I was surprised at the powerful connection that I felt to many of Gallen-Kallela's paintings.

Before becoming a student in Paris, Gallen-Kallela painted a series of pictures of rural life, among the earliest being Boy with a Crow (above, upper), made when the artist was 19 years old. This is one of the paintings that had a big effect on me and it is not difficult to read a story into the simple portrayal of two beings against the ground of an enclosed meadow. There are many other works based on everyday life (e.g. above, lower) and Timo Martin and Douglas Sivén wrote in their splendid celebration of Gallen-Kallela [3]:

In the forests, the landscape of the wilds and in the solitude of the great outdoors Akseli Gallen-Kallela always found peace of mind for a while, and most often he portrayed the wild scenery as softly limpid and melancholy. He made his most joyful notes when work had gone well and his mind was at peace, far from the madding crowd. Born a country boy, Gallen-Kallela throve in the country, in the forests and among the innocent people of his childhood memories, even for long time periods – until his complex, restless nature drew him to the turmoil of cities and to the activities of equally ambitious kindred spirits. His devotion to virgin nature sprang from his childhood, remembered with a warmth that as time passed so gilded those memories that he came to expect life and people in other regions to live up to them.

Romantics can identify readily with these sentiments and, in an attempt to satisfy them, Gallen-Kallela designed a wooden house to be his home in an isolated part of Finland, long before Tarvaspää was built. This house was named Kalela (not Kallela) and the interior decorations, and the furniture, were made by Gallen-Kallela himself using Karelian and National Romantic motifs. He lived here with his wife and young family but it was far from idyllic in any practical way as it was always cold during the winter and Finnish winters are often very cold indeed. However, it brought him close to the natural world throughout the year, although his restlessness saw him make many trips to other countries. His mature style changed to be more Symbolist and, in addition to oil painting, he painted in tempera, made wood cuts and etchings and created pieces of stained glass. 

On one of his visits to Italy, he learned about fresco techniques and devoted years to making frescoes in Finland and in the Finnish Pavilion in the 1900 Paris World Exhibition. Very few of these works have survived: they featured subjects connected with Kalevela, the Finnish "national legends" based on Karelian folk tales that were also an important source for many paintings. However, it is the landscapes and informal portraits by Gallen-Kallela that I appreciate most. It's one Romantic speaking to another, sharing a similar taste for melancholy and Nature.

[1] http://rwotton.blogspot.com/2014/05/nature-and-identity-links-between.html

[2] William L. Coleman (2014) Sibelius, Gallen-Kallela, and the Symposium: Painting in Fin-de-Siècle Finland. Nineteenth-Century Art Worldwide 13: 1-18.

[3] Timo Martin and Douglas Sivén (1985) Akseli Gallen-Kallela: National Artist of Finland. Helsinki, Watti-Kustannus.

Angels, Nike, Superman and Darth Vader

Before the invention of powered flying machines, humans could only move through the air using balloons carried by winds. Now we can travel more or less anywhere at speed, and we are no longer confined to Earth, so the mystique of flying is much less that it was hundreds of years ago. Nevertheless, we are fascinated by birds because they evolved powered flight using their own bodies and there has always been a rich mythology attached to birds and the places that they can reach. Using our imagination, we borrowed one of their major attributes – wings – and used these in our depiction of flying creatures like angels that are portrayed as humans with bird wings that enable them to fly between Earth and Heaven. This image has persisted for centuries and probably originated in statues of Greek goddesses, such as Nike, that have a clothed human form, with wings in addition to arms (when they are not broken off... see above).

In paintings, most angels are shown having predominantly white wings, an example being Guercino's St Sebastian succoured by angels (below, upper), although there are exceptions to this convention, as seen in works by Fra Angelico (below, second) and Veronese (below, third). Bright colour was a common feature of places of Christian worship in the first half of the last millennium, so it is not surprising that religious paintings are similarly brightly coloured. White wings, however, have another symbolic role. They remind us of doves, released as symbols of peace and reconciliation, and long portrayed in paintings as representing the Holy Spirit, as in the Double Trinity of Murillo (below, bottom).

If white is good, then black is evil in western Culture and birds like crows have a quite different reputation to that enjoyed by doves. They are known from ancient folklore as bringers of bad luck and even death [1], and they are potent symbols of evil in paintings, such as those by Giovanni Bellini (below, upper) and Mantegna (below, middle). Even though these illustrations are details from larger works, the prominence, and isolation, of the birds conveys a powerful message. Crows add to the forbidding tone of Van Gogh's Wheatfield with Crows (below, bottom), painted shortly before he died from infection following a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Although the overall colours of the painting convey gloom, imagine how the work would look without the crows and then think whether the atmosphere would be more, or less, menacing.

From mythology then, we conclude that white, or brightly coloured, wings are features of good angels, while evil angels, or angels of death, have black wings. In contemporary culture, we extend this metaphor by using capes; items of clothing designed originally to provide freedom of movement. Note that Superman (below) has a red cape that is fastened at the shoulders, just like angel wings. We know that Superman can fly, and that he came from another world, and we also know that flight was achieved through superhuman powers, just like those of angels. The cape is a symbol of Superman's ability to fly, just as bird wings are for angels, and it separates him from the merely human.

Although they do not appear in the same fantasy, Darth Vader of Star Wars (below) represents the antithesis to Superman. We see him as an imposing figure in black with a black cape held at the shoulders, just like that of Superman. The colour reminds us of evil and the visual imagery works before we ever know of Darth Vader's intentions (by the way, the "baddies" often wore black hats in early Western movies).

It is fun to think of Superman as a good angel (with some messianic qualities) and Darth Vader as an evil angel, but how odd they would look if earlier conventions had been followed and they were given bird wings of an appropriate colour instead of capes. Can you imagine it?

[1] Steve Roud (2003) The Penguin Guide to the Superstitions of Britain and Ireland. London, Penguin Books.