"How To Draw A Tree" Community Environmental Sculpture Build Reflection

The afternoon of April 17th emerged dark and overcast; the large rain clouds threatening to spill fat rain drops from the skies, which prompted the quick addition of layers from students skittering from building to building as they prepared for finals. Amidst it all stood two lone tents on Johnston Green, piles of sticks stacked up around the space, and four trees standing watch around two stone sculptures, shaped like the trunks of trees, collecting the rainwater as it began to make its release from the sky.  

The small crowd of onlookers, students, and workers were joined by four members of the Community Engaged Scholarship Institute (CESI)’s staff: Shirley Shanahan, Kendra Schnarr, Ashley Cole, and myself. Former CESI research assistant and current PhD student in Critical Studies in Improvisation annais linares stood tucked under one of the tents with her band (SoundBound!) partner, Ben Finley. A border collie, joined by their human, circled the event, belly low to the ground as she searched for a perfect stick and a human to throw it. 

Drawing from Dawn Matheson’s “How To Draw A Tree” (www.howtodrawatree.ca) project, the unveiling of the “How To Draw A Tree” circle (a rooted site for ongoing art projects exploring interconnectedness, wonder and wellness, asking: “how do we draw trees towards us into a reciprocal relationship?”) was attended by students, faculty, and community members from around the University of Guelph, as well as a group of high school students. 

Working in partnership with CESI, the Arboretum, and the Grounds, Matheson and her ‘Tree Team” of volunteers invited passersby and attendees to build an environmental structure with recycled sticks from the Arboretum. Environmental sculptor Agnes Niewiadomski facilitated the building of the temporary sculpture, which would encircle the “How To Draw A Tree” circle. 

The project's purpose was the process, and the event incorporated themes of mental well-being and environmental health. Below, I draw on reflections from Ashley and myself to consider the process and the impact of the event. 

The Process 

The space was almost immediately welcoming, despite the ambiguous invitation to the art-creation event. Both Ashley and I reflected on having no idea what was about to happen, and about our initial feelings of discomfort with our own presence and our roles within the space. The discomfort was productive, however, and Ashley reflected on how, as time went on and we formed our own assemblages of working groups, “it felt easier to make those deeper connections”.  

One of the first things I remember about the event were the supportive opening words from Dawn, followed by a tingling of both joy and hesitation at the lack of directions around what we were going to build, outside of the parameters set out by the university. When Agnes gave onlookers a starting point – staking down larger branches and weaving sticks between them to create a strong base – I remember feeling simultaneously disappointed and relieved that there was, at least, a place where I could start on the work. However, despite Agnes’ ease when demonstrating the base creation, I quickly found the process to be much more difficult than originally anticipated. What I’d originally thought might be a quick and tidy base, turned into a structure with multiple starting points, augmented by broken sticks and creative interpretations of stick weaving gone not entirely to plan. 

Ashley similarly noted that she “usually [had] a very clear sense of what the final product will be” when working on arts-based activities; and that starting with an inkling of instruction but nothing more was an opportunity to “try things out and make mistakes”.  

As time went on, the participant-collaborators began to become more creative; moving away from the building blocks taught to us by Agnes. In my reflection, I noted tha

“The design started to change started to do different things. You could see Agnes was going around teaching people different skills that they might be interested in, making suggestions on what wood was more pliable, what sticks are more pliable, etc, etc. And things  just really started to - you could see these different shapes being built, that were kind of disjoint[ed] but they were collaborative efforts as well, which is really beautiful.” 

Ashley similarly considered how these leaps into creativity were collaborative, which created community within the space. She spoke of how another participant-collaborator wanted to “make a heart out of sticks, and we all had to work together to make that piece.” The process of working together also created a space of joy for both of us, and Ashley reflected that she was surprised by the amount of laughter created in the space, and: 

“How much joy [the event] brought to me and others. I would see people be silly and that allowed me to open up and feel more comfortable and that I could be more authentically me.” 

One of these spaces of joy that both Ashley and I reflected on was the arrival of a group of high school students to the event; who quickly joined in adding to the sculpture and also taking active part in the music making with SoundBound!. At one point, annais and Ben joined the students in an improvisational 'parade' around the structure; bringing the music closer towards the space and the making of the stick weaving.  

The Learning 

There were two main learnings that came from this event: (1) the importance of the process as a space of healing; and (2) the connection to the more-than-human as a potential space of flourishing.  

Process as Healing 

Both Ashley and I reflected on the relief of not needing to have a final, perfect, process. In my own reflection, I noted that as a: 

“[R]ecovering perfectionist […] I’m trying really hard to resist the need to be perfect, and part of projects like How to Draw a Tree is that it’s really hard to be ‘perfect’. And you can either get frustrated about that and still try to create the perfect shape or you can let the sticks take you where they needed to take you”. 

For me, one of the largest learnings of the event was the beauty of not having a set “goal in mind”; and instead focusing on the process of creating a structure as a space of healing. Similarly, Ashley noted:

 “As a student there's an over looming sense that I constantly need to perform and finish the task at hand. But as we were coming to the end of the event, I didn't feel the sense of pressure to finish the sculpture and make it look a certain way. It was nice to let go of those expectations and know that the sculpture isn't finished and will change. It gave me permission to move on and let others take it on”.  

Indeed, Dawn made clear at the beginning of the event that we were not reaching an ‘end product’ of the environmental structure. Instead, those who passed the circle would be invited to add on to the structure as they saw fit over the coming weeks; and part of the art event was the knowledge that we might return to something completely different to what we had left.  

The More-Than-Human and Flourishing 

Both Ashley and I were struck by the more-than-human elements within the space. Ashley reflected that she felt a sense of discomfort at first, whenever a stick she was working with broke; reflecting that “this is an event where I’m supposed to connect with nature, I shouldn’t be destroying it”. However, this feeling began to ease as she realized that the stick “still had a purpose in the larger sculpture.” 

I reflected on my own incapability to weave sticks in as neatly as I saw others doing it, and my “trying and failing to make shapes and then just going ahead and making a different shape”. There wasn’t a sense of sadness or of failure, however, but instead a feeling that with “the dead sticks, and the dead branches, […] we were collaborating with the more-than-human”. 

Similarly, I reflected on my connection to the dog present, noting that generally I might feel a sense of shame for interacting with a non-human animal at an event specifically about connection, but here it felt right.

 “And this dog that was brought into the space […] she would go into the circle that had been created, the middle of the circle to pee or when she was interacting with humans like myself and games of stick and chase and fetch. She was also a part of this collaborative process. And she was part of what made this this event as well […] even when there were spaces where I was not connecting with other humans, I was connecting with these non-human, these more-than-human pieces of the event.” 

For Ashley, this event gave her a chance to “connect with nature”, and gave her space to reflect on memorable experiences of being outside with nature as a child: 

I think it may have just brought back times where I was able to just be, where I was outside in nature, and where I was just connecting with others. It was an interesting feeling being brought back to those times, because those memories never stuck out to me as being something unique, nor have I really thought about them until now.” 

We both reflected that the rainy weather added to the event, in that it reminded us of the beauty of nature and being immersed outdoors at all times of year. I spoke of my gratefulness for the weather too, as well as my excitement for what the more-than-human would do to this sculpture in the coming weeks. (As noted, the structure wasn’t a finished product, it was a work-in-progress for humans and more than humans to build upon, and that Dawn hoped when we revisited the space it would be something else entirely.) My biggest excitement, I noted, was: 

“To see what happens with human and non-human forces, and how this project will continue to transform. What will the wind, sun, and rain do to transform this project? Students coming up and down the Green?” 

Moving Forward 

The beauty of research-creation like the “How to Draw a Tree” event is not the finished product, necessarily, but instead the process of being in the moment. As humans with increasingly busy lives, it can be difficult to find times to be in the moment, and to enjoy being in the process with both human and non-human entities.  

As we continue forward, transformed in our reflections, we remember the following: 

• The importance of being present in the processes of art. 

• The impermeability of nature, and the beauty of recognizing that “finished” does not necessarily have to be an expected outcome. 

• That collaboration and connection is not bounded within singular events or projects, but rather linger on in the spaces and body-minds that were touched by the process. 

While the stick-weaving structure has been taken down by the university, more photos of the event can be found at www.howtodrawatree.ca, and the “How To Draw A Tree” circle is a permanent space on Johnston Green that is open to every being. Stay tuned for ongoing programming events and collaborations with nature, and for future partnerships bringing new activities to the space.

Photography by: Richelle Forsey (@richelle4c) & Dawn Matheson