Compared to the explosion of scientific research into trees that has reached a broad public in recent years, epitomized by the pioneering work of Peter Wohlleben, Diana Beresford-Kroeger, and Jonathan Drori (to say nothing of the exciting studies of plant intelligence by botanists such as Monica Gagliano and Stefano Mancuso), the tree in European art is at once so ubiquitous and so fraught with symbolism that it is tempting to take the subject for granted. The new exhibition curated by Miroslav Hal’ák, “The Tree in Art” pushes viewers to reconsider how artists have depicted trees, not as merely an idyllic or even menacing backdrop to human endeavors, but as worthy subjects in their own right.
—Elizabeth B. Jones for EuropeNow Journal
EuropeNow “The Tree of Knowledge, the Tree of Enlightenment, the Axis of the World: Following these narrative strands, the exhibition Grow is centered on the tree as a subject in art and its relationship to humankind. Trees accompany our lives—as sources of oxygen, shade-givers, anchors of calm. Culturally, the tree has always been symbolic—a mysterious bearer of knowledge, signifier of strength and power, or harbinger of ecological aberrations to come.” The above quote introduces viewers to an exhibition currently shown in Hluboká nad Vltavou (Czech Republic), after its initial showing at the Belvedere Museum in Vienna, where you are a curator (Figure 1).
I would like to ask you first if you would comment on the exhibition’s inception and the decision to focus on individual trees. Did you and your fellow curators consciously avoid the term “forests”? If so, why?
Miroslav Haľák The forest is a complex system of details. The difference between the tree and the forest is the same as the difference between the individual and society. This thoroughly anthropomorphic comparison is crucial to the theme of my research project and the exhibition “Let it GROW Again: The Tree in Art” I curated. The tree is the identifying feature of the forest. Even if the artworks in the exhibition depict a forest mass, the latter’s substance consists of individual tree parts (Figure 2). Moreover, history deters anonymizing the forest, i.e. attempting to bring superordinate structures into the foreground, for example if we think of the propagandistic identification of Germans with the “great,” “healthy” forest during National Socialism. Elias Canetti described this politically manipulative allegorization in his book Crowds and Power (1960): “The crowd symbol of the Germans was the army. But the army was more than just the army; it was the marching forest.”
In order to better understand the functions of the forest as a specific content carrier, its individual parts must also be analyzed. A solitary tree is one of the most efficient projection surfaces of mankind in art. I call it an “art-anthropological constant.” It is so deeply intertwined with us materially, culturally, and spiritually that there is hardly a culture in global comparison that does not attribute a special significance to the visual sign of the tree. The value of the tree in archaic cultures is evidenced by its position in various myths of origin and cosmologies. As whether the tree of knowledge in the Bible, the cosmic tree Yggdrasil in the Edda, a family tree in genealogy, a concept that should be replaced by the structure of the rhizome—which Deleuze and Guattari demanded—or the logo of an environmental organization or a strategy against desertification in the Sahel, it is always the tree that functions as a mediator of metaphysical content, inspires us—thanks to its form—and plays an irreplaceable role in the ecological preservation of our planet, thanks to its biological properties. All these dimensions are continuously and contextually communicated through the visual arts. So if we dare to look at the tree, this inexhaustible motif of art history, and try to organize, categorize, and typologize the countless examples of pictorial and sculptural works that involve the tree, we will get a fascinating mosaic in which the tree goes from being a symbol of life to a statement of survival.
EuropeNow Could you delve further into the ways the artists represented in GROW wrestled with trees’ relationships to human values? For example, how do labels like “noble” fir, “stalwart” oak, or even “weeping” willow shape humans’ understanding of trees and artists’ aesthetic decisions as they move through the creative process from inspiration to completed work?
Miroslav Haľák In art history, the motif of the tree cannot be viewed in a centralized or linear way. This means that it is not possible to assign a canonized value to a specific tree symbol. The tree is a very dynamic visual sign that adapts to the respective cultural requirements and can be flexibly adapted according to an ideological motivation. In addition to positively connoted symbols that refer to the tree such as lignum vitae, arbor aeviternitalis, arbor bona, arbor victoriosa, arbor divinalis, arbor caelestialis, etc., negative content has also been transported with the tree: lignum sapientiae boni et mali, arbor mortalis, arbor bis mortua, arbor mala, arbor crucis, arbor infructuosa, etc. The tension between these ambivalent meanings is very visible in the iconography of the Garden of Eden and the scene of the expulsion of Adam and Eve. The often so splendidly depicted paradisiacal tree is a taboo that is broken by the forbidden consumption of the fruit. In Genesis, two trees are decisive for this scene: the forbidden tree of the knowledge of good and evil and the tree of eternal life, which is to remain inaccessible to humans after their expulsion from paradise.
The biblical symbolism of trees is very complex and in the New Testament leads to the wood of the cross, which has become the lignum vitae through redemption. The detailed elaboration of these motifs can be found in the medieval iconographies of the Old and New testaments, but also in the lives of the saints, who often have the tree as their attribute, such as St. Christopher. Trees are also perceived differently in ancient myths. In the myth of Philemon and Baucis, the transformation of the loving couple into two trees is seen as a reward, whereas the foolish shepherd Apullus is punished for his impudence by being transformed into an olive tree.
The aim of this exhibition and research project is to demonstrate the tree in its symbolic and formal complexity. For the symbolic is only one of three other equally important categories present in art in which we can read the tree. In addition, the tree as a symbol is very dependent on the measure of social convention. Describing the fir tree as “noble,” the oak as “stalwart,” and the willow as “sorrowful” only works within a limited cultural framework. The lime tree is perceived differently in Slavic folklore and other European traditions; and we can also define other mythical trees relevant to other ethnic groups. From the Middle Ages to contemporary art positions, different tree meanings become visible depending on the culture; that is what is exciting about being able to discover the different factors that create meaning, such as the geopolitical, cultural, or spiritual contextuality in the respective works included in the exhibition.
EuropeNow Could you describe the process of selection for the exhibition? What were the artistic parameters (beyond the pragmatic issues of access and space) and why? Why, for example, was a particular work included or excluded?
Miroslav Haľák The basic question in formulating the hypothesis was whether it is even possible to define a certain order in the vast number of tree representations in art. Since we find the tree in a wide variety of representations across time and place, a selection based on style or genre would always be very limited. A tree in Impressionism has different functions than a tree in Romanticism. A tree in a sacred context conveys different messages than as part of a landscape painting displayed in a private living room. René Magritte’s tree is rooted in different intellectual substrates and spiritual soils from that of Piet Mondrian, etc. It was therefore important to answer the question of categorization in order to be able to define the selection criteria in the first place. The transhistorical overview shows that the tree acts either as a mediator of supernatural content or as formal inspiration, leading to new aesthetic fashions and norms. Cubist trees, for example, are form-related, as cubist artists abstract the striking qualities from nature in order to visualize geometric schemes. In Surrealism, on the other hand, natural forms always communicate a multi-layered content. A strict separation between the respective approaches to the tree in visual culture is not possible, however, as it is also depicted in hybrid form in many works of art, carrying symbolic content as well as being strongly based on the formal qualities of the natural model.
Artists who address environmental themes often choose the tree as the ultimate symbol for saving the environment as well as a form that can represent the interconnectedness of the planet, which influences the selection parameters for exhibitions. This exhibition’s concept is therefore not about presenting the tree as a product of the art of great names in art history, but about placing it in the foreground and demonstrating how multi-layered and rich in form the tree is represented in art. And even in this formulation it is clear that the most important criteria are breadth of content and formal variability. It was very important to me to show that a medieval panel, a classical modernist painting, and a contemporary sculpture all tell stories through the tree that transcend the objective world of our perception. At the same time, lines, contours, structures, and textures are abstracted from the tree in both Baroque and contemporary abstract art, which always expand our perception of the aesthetics of nature. The GROW exhibitions at the Belvedere Museum in Vienna and currently (summer 2024) at the South Bohemian Gallery in Hluboká nad Vltavou are not about showing an artificial forest full of similar tree paintings and sculptures, nor are they about idealizing the tree based on a small group of selected artists. The exhibition is intended to illustrate that the tree in art is much more than just an esoteric object of our admiration or just a beautiful natural backdrop (Figure 3).
EuropeNow The accompanying exhibition notes emphasize the “spiritual ideas, inspirational form-finding, and philosophical concepts” that you hope the works invite in viewers. The focus on trees and the climate crisis is a particular highlight, but can you say more about the active engagement in the material world that you hope GROW inspires in viewers? What do you hope visitors will glean from the exhibition beyond a deeper appreciation of trees’ beauty and their role in sustaining humankind?
Miroslav Haľák Many environmental organizations have as their core mission the strengthening of general awareness for the preservation of forests and the planting of trees. In many manifestos of the ecological movements of our time, the tree becomes the savior of our world. The expectation and role that we as a civilization ascribe to trees is in many ways comparable to the mythical expectation of a miracle that brings salvation. The tree is supposed to help us out of the crisis into which we, as a civilization, have maneuvered ourselves through our irresponsible actions. Both models are represented in such programs: first, the tree is a symbol of a healthy environment, a hope for an almost supernatural recovery of the planet; the tree becomes part of a modern soteriology, i.e., a doctrine of salvation. Second, however, these programs are based on a factual, biological characteristic of plants and their effect on our climate. The signs with which the trees are visually communicated in such environmental movements are thus largely based on the concrete formal and natural qualities of the trees. The third model in which we present the tree in the exhibition is therefore the one that unites the symbolic and formal levels. This is actually a prerequisite for the entire exhibition.
So if the tree is the ultimate sign of the ecological crisis of the Anthropocene, the exhibition must also be extremely careful with this criterion. Long transport routes for works, where overseas flights are organized and many trucks have to travel long distances, exhibition productions that produce tons of plastic waste, and other inefficient strategies would be extremely counterproductive. These challenges also form criteria for the selection of works and their communication to the public. The work labels and hall texts are produced sustainably, without foils, for example with the use of seed papers that not only are completely degradable in the soil but also contain active seeds, so that when they land on the ground, a plant grows —a very important parallel with the title of the exhibition). In both exhibitions (in Vienna and Hluboká nad Vltavou), I deliberately limited the selection to only include works that could be loaned out of collections located within a manageable distance. We thus avoided using air transport for the works, and I concentrated on working with the respective institutions’ own collections.
It is only when working in detail with the artworks, across the two collections, that hidden references were often discovered that illuminate the intended theme from a particular angle. For example, it became apparent and interesting that twentieth century Czechoslovak art has a comparatively large concentration of nature—and especially tree—themes. Trees were an integral part of the visual language of art scenes such as Czech Cubism, Surrealism, Slovakian Expressionism, or the avant-gardes of the 1960s and 1970s, through which a wide variety of messages were conveyed to the general public. Even while the country was under totalitarian rule, sensitive topics were communicated with impunity, usually veiled by a cipher of the natural element. Critical and often protest-laden content was therefore transported in the tree as a natural object. The exhibition at the South Bohemian Gallery (Hluboká nad Vltavou, Czechia) also attempts to convey this sensitivity towards the tree as a motif in art.
Instead of concentrating on big names, the show aims to give the tree the leading role and present visitors with the facets of its function in art over several centuries, from the Middle Ages to the present day. The aim is to make visible not only that the spiritual level of trees is a motto of historical art but that Christian and other ancient traditions and iconographies are still used in art today and contextualized in a contemporary way. However, the message remains the same: the divine or the demonic, the supernatural or the subconscious, the celestial or the infernal is sought through the tree. It should also be possible to read what an important role the tree has played in the formal development of art and our aesthetic perception. The abstraction of forms, which leads to non-objectivity, the schematization of linear means of expression such as the vertical, the horizontal, and the diagonal, the post-structuralist transformation of ramification and rootedness into discursive networks and multidimensional intersections all manifest themselves as processes in art. All these developments have the tree as an example of initiation, and many surprising connections should lead the visitor to reflect on the indispensability of this theme in our everyday lives.
EuropeNow Finally, as a historian I am especially interested in the changes you observed over time. Could you describe how artists’ preoccupations changed with respect to their depictions of trees, and how their choices reflected the times in which they lived and contemporary human concerns? This is touched on in the exhibition’s sections, where concepts like “transformation,” “mirroring,” and “instrumentalization” suggest a chronology of human preoccupations, is that right?
Miroslav Haľák The tree is fascinating because it is so diverse. It far exceeds our human dimensions, both in terms of time and proportion; and yet, thanks to its morphology, the tree is similar to us, or rather, as a projection surface, it absorbs our content and expectations. Through this proximity, it has historically become a very efficient sign of visual communication, which has naturally also been instrumentalized for the wrong purposes. The tree, through its size, strength, and vitality, has been clearly misused as a propagandistic tool because it could easily be installed as an allegory of an equally strong individual or, in the case of the forest, of an entire society or people. Such processes are not a phenomenon of the twentieth century. Myths and legends, as well as fairy tales and folk stories, are full of architectural symbols that reflect a manipulated view of man’s relationship to his environment. Many of these signs are lost because they are no longer needed as such, as in the case of Egyptian tree goddesses; however, many such signs survive and, since their emergence from a cultural concern, their range of content grows with each generation, like the annual rings of a real tree. One of the richest tree symbols in this sense is the apple tree and its fruit. Although we have no explicit mention of the tree in the story of paradise, in Europe the tree of knowledge has been identified with the apple tree since the late Romanesque period at the latest. In regions where the apple tree did not play such an important economic role, other fruits such as the fig, olive, lemon, pomegranate, or even grapes were used. Since the Middle Ages, however, the iconography of Adam and Eve has been associated with the apple. Since then, the apple tree, as well as its fruit, has been associated with contents that bear witness to life and death, the world and the underworld, good and evil, heaven and hell. A hundred years ago, a symbolic coating of the apple would have been perceived mainly in these terms. However, this symbol shows how society can adapt to new conventions. Less than half a century has passed since the technological company “Apple” has emerged, yet the simple silhouette of an apple is now read much more in light of that company than through Old Testament meanings. The result is not only a purely formal connection, but also a mystifying one, in that the question of an explicit interpretation of this logo remains largely open to interpretation. This example shows how elastic the representation of trees in art is. What remains as a principle in these vast numbers of works of art that thematize the tree is precisely the tendency towards either: a) a symbolically charged treatment of the tree symbol, b) an artistic production related to the form of this natural object, or c) a communication of complex messages that are laden with content but also draw heavily on the natural qualities of the tree. The aim of the GROW project was to create this typology of tree representations in visual communication and substantiate it with arguments.
EuropeNow Do you have any final thoughts you would like to add?
Miroslav Haľák Publications were prepared for both exhibitions, addressing the topic in detail. For the first exhibition in Vienna, a book was published describing the theory of the three models of tree representation, and this study was supplemented by my colleagues who approached the theme of trees from different art forms, whether from the perspective of literature, music, or film. In the second book, which accompanies the exhibition in the Czech Republic, this theory is further developed and an attempt is made to create an interpretive toolbox for the reader. The interpretation of a work of art is not simply a description of feelings but is subject to basic methodological principles in the field of art history and art theory. The subject of the tree seemed to me to be an ideal way to illustrate the various approaches to art studies and to offer something like a methodological manual. In addition to my study, which addresses the semiotics and anthropology of the tree in art, there are studies from the perspectives of iconography and iconology, psychoanalysis, phenomenology, structuralism and post-structuralism, analytical philosophy, deconstruction, environmental aesthetics, ecofeminism, and new materialism. The aim is to provide the reader with a toolbox for deciphering the tree in art from the main perspectives of art history. The original GROW exhibition that was shown in Vienna—Let it GROW Again—has been extended and is currently shown at the South Bohemian Gallery, located in a beautiful historical region that includes cities such as České Budějovice (Budweis) and Český Krumlov (Krumau). The exhibition there will be on display until November 2024, and I hope that this theme will find much resonance. The tree is not only a very present sign, but it is also a very acute one, given the state of the environment, which is being communicated more and more intensively around the world.
“Let it GROW Again: The Tree in Art” is shown at the Aleš South Bohemian Gallery, in Hluboká nad Vltavou (Czech Republic) from June 8 to November 10, 2024. More information about the exhibition can be found here.
Miroslav Haľák (PhD) is an art historian and theorist. He earned his doctorate by writing a thesis on the theory and typology of anthropomorphisms in modern art (Tvár prírody. Teória antropomorfizmu vo výtvarnom umení, Bratislava 2021). Since 2017, he has worked at the Austrian Gallery Belvedere in Vienna. In addition to nineteenth and twentieth century art, his research focuses on visual semiotics, psychological aesthetics, visual anthropology, Byzantine image theology, and current visual studies in the digital humanities. As a curator, he has participated in exhibitions on classical modernism and on the divergent positions of contemporary art. In the exhibition project Johanna Kandl. What we paint with and why? (Belvedere, Vienna, 2019–2020), he explored the theory of material turn as a paradigm shift in the use of materials in contemporary art trends and visual communication. In the exhibition GROW. Der Baum in der Kunst (Belvedere, Vienna, 2022–2023), he attempted to devise a universal typology for the representation of trees in art using visual semiotics. In his text for Alois Mosbacher’s exhibition Palinops (Belvedere, Vienna, 2023), which he also curated, he addressed the specific question of the creation and perception of space in postmodern art. Since 2024, he has been a lecturer in visual semiotics at Masaryk University in Brno. He is a member of the International Association of Art Critics (AICA) and sits on the editorial board of ARS, a journal published by the Institute of Art History of the Slovak Academy of Sciences.
Elizabeth B. Jones is Professor Emerita of German and European history, Colorado State University. Her scholarship covers all aspects of rural Germany, with emphasis on the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. She currently lives in Corvallis, Oregon, and works with several community non-profits devoted to social and environmental justice and looks after a small forest.
Published on August 15, 2024.
