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Two Trees Print by J. Thompson
Units in Stock: 0
Product Code: TTP
Product Condition: New
This print was one of the first pieces Jo created at university. He had to create an illustration that used digital manipulation of painted images... This print only exists as a digital file, I have all the original artwork but the final piece was put together digitally, it is a very clever and beautiful artwork.
The inspiration comes from the poem ‘Two Trees’ by Don Patterson, a long time ago, I went to a reading by the poet and told Jo about this poem, he looked it up and it obviously remained a favourite for him. I have reproduced it below, with the author’s permission.
The prints are high quality giclee prints on Matt photographic paper.
The print is available in two sizes, both framed and unframed, please choose from the drop down menu.
50% of the retail price of this print will be shared between Young Minds and Papyrus, both mental health charities working specifically with young people.
I have limited number of these available right now as it is a new set up. If you would like a print and the one you want is sold out, please contact me through the website and I will do my best to get some more ready to go. I apologise for the inconvenience, please bear with me.
"Two Trees"
Don Paterson
One morning, Don Miguel got out of bed
with one idea rooted in his head:
to graft his orange to his lemon tree.
It took him the whole day to work them free,
lay open their sides and lash them tight.
For twelve months, from the shame or from the fright
they put forth nothing; but one day there appeared
two lights in the dark leaves. Over the years
the limbs would get themselves so tangled up
each bough looked like it gave a double crop,
and not one kid in the village didn't know
the magic tree in Don Miguel's patio.
The man who bought the house had had no dream
so who can say what dark malicious whim
led him to take his axe and split the bole
along its fused seam, then dig two holes.
And no, they did not die from solitude;
nor did their branches bear a sterile fruit;
nor did their unhealed flanks weep every spring
for those four yards that lost them everything,
as each strained on its shackled root to face
the other's empty, intricate embrace.
They were trees, and trees don't weep or ache or shout.
And trees are all this poem is about.
The inspiration comes from the poem ‘Two Trees’ by Don Patterson, a long time ago, I went to a reading by the poet and told Jo about this poem, he looked it up and it obviously remained a favourite for him. I have reproduced it below, with the author’s permission.
The prints are high quality giclee prints on Matt photographic paper.
The print is available in two sizes, both framed and unframed, please choose from the drop down menu.
50% of the retail price of this print will be shared between Young Minds and Papyrus, both mental health charities working specifically with young people.
I have limited number of these available right now as it is a new set up. If you would like a print and the one you want is sold out, please contact me through the website and I will do my best to get some more ready to go. I apologise for the inconvenience, please bear with me.
"Two Trees"
Don Paterson
One morning, Don Miguel got out of bed
with one idea rooted in his head:
to graft his orange to his lemon tree.
It took him the whole day to work them free,
lay open their sides and lash them tight.
For twelve months, from the shame or from the fright
they put forth nothing; but one day there appeared
two lights in the dark leaves. Over the years
the limbs would get themselves so tangled up
each bough looked like it gave a double crop,
and not one kid in the village didn't know
the magic tree in Don Miguel's patio.
The man who bought the house had had no dream
so who can say what dark malicious whim
led him to take his axe and split the bole
along its fused seam, then dig two holes.
And no, they did not die from solitude;
nor did their branches bear a sterile fruit;
nor did their unhealed flanks weep every spring
for those four yards that lost them everything,
as each strained on its shackled root to face
the other's empty, intricate embrace.
They were trees, and trees don't weep or ache or shout.
And trees are all this poem is about.
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