When I was driving to and from Ottawa last weekend I was looking at the landscape and imagined how it used to appear, something my husband has taught me to do over the years. Sometimes we notice the remains of farms and homesteads , or unpaved country roads where there are now highways. What I was noticing on the weekend was the places where trees used to grow. I thought of how the aboriginal people of our land believed the trees had spirits and wondered where those spirits were now. When I stopped for gas I wrote down on the gas receipt " ghost trees" and it wasn't until I arrived back home on sunday evening , emptied the car and then noticed those words I had written. I knew I had to create something to represent this idea and that is just what I did. I want to show you the first prototypes I made but first, this evening
I googled the words ghost trees and discovered this.
and this
Both are the works of the Clive Wakeford. He said " It is a narrative on the decline of trees and by regenerating a dead object brings to attention the value of these structures within the environment."
I used branches from fallen wood for this project. Some I crocheted and some are knitted in the round. I cut the wood with a hand saw and tried to use the natural knots in the wood as important parts of the form like arms and facial features. One of them I have nicknamed the vertical conjoined twin ghost tree I even whittled, an extremely relaxing activity. 







When you look at your community do you see any ghost trees?
Your photos are just AMAZING! I could look at them forever. All of your projects really appeal to my inner science and nature geek. LOVE...
Posted by: Rachel | September 26, 2008 at 02:09 AM
These are SO GREAT! I need to make something like this...
We had a tree just outside our house. It was the oldest tree on our land (I think) but a few years ago, she became diseased and my dad had to chop her up so she wouldn't contaminate the rest of the orchard. Something like that... It was really sad - we used to have a swing on that tree and everything. For a couple of months, all that was left was a huge stump... I still think about that tree, especially when she was just a stump, so solitary and sad...
Posted by: Mela | September 26, 2008 at 04:34 AM
these are so cool!
love your blog too.
Posted by: sarah | September 26, 2008 at 06:40 AM
These are beautiful!
I live in an area where there is a lot of sprawl and as I travel to my parents' home an hour away, I am always saddened by what it has become. Sadly, there are many ghost trees along the way.
Posted by: Mim | September 26, 2008 at 07:03 AM
We have an actual tree called a ghost gum in our part of the world - I will try and find a picture to send you.
Posted by: bluemountainsmary | September 26, 2008 at 07:10 AM
Your story and pictures are a great inspiration. I love it when the concept and the execution of an idea is so beautiful. The objects you made are beautiful by themselves, but add your artist voice, and they become sublime. Well done.
Posted by: Lorie | September 26, 2008 at 07:42 AM
Exquisite expressions! I particularly like the one with draped 'cobwebs'.
So....let's plant more trees - taking on that mindset lets us 'see' many opportunities, and the realization that every effort is worthwhile from planting a seedling tree to stepping a chestnut back into the earth or an acorn or a peach pit or an apple core or a maple seed helicopter etc!!
Posted by: karen | September 26, 2008 at 10:31 AM
Almost two years ago we moved to a new town, not far from our old house. Sometimes we drive past the old house, which always makes me sad because the new owners do not take good care of it. The last time I drove by I was deeply saddened to see that the Corkscrew Willow we had planted in the back yard had died. It was a cutting from aunt's tree, which had been grown from a cutting of my grandfather's tree. He loved Corkscrew Willows. I'm still sad to think our old tree has become a ghost tree.
Posted by: Christina J. | September 26, 2008 at 01:34 PM
i really like that you let the particularities of the pieces stand out. it says that trees, yes, are necessary and good, but also these particular trees. I live in Vancouver, so there are lots of beautiful old trees around, but I also hear stories about how there used to be mammoth trees until a few decades ago, and I feel their absence in the forests, and how they were so old and so much part of this landscape, and now are gone.
Posted by: emilykristin | September 26, 2008 at 02:16 PM
they are very beautiful but also a little bit frightening and discomforting.
Posted by: rebekah | September 26, 2008 at 05:11 PM
God bless your beautiful brain and imagination Margie :)
Here's a ghost tree I made back in 2006:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/geninne/276135702/in/set-72157594173370349/
Posted by: Geninne | September 27, 2008 at 06:51 PM
i love them. espesh the one that looks like it's wearing a snowsuit.
Posted by: Knitxcore | September 27, 2008 at 10:45 PM
I see ghost trees in my life ...
I love your creations. They are amazing. The way you used the natural contours and nubs when doing the crochet lends a wonderful organic spirit to the pieces.
Posted by: futuregirl | September 27, 2008 at 11:06 PM
*love* *love* *love*
My favourite is the one with the definite eyes and mouth, with the one long arm. :)
Posted by: Andrea (noricum) | September 27, 2008 at 11:35 PM
Now that I know the meaning behind this projects Margie, I love your crocheted trees even much! I would love to have a "Margie ghost tree" on my house :)
Posted by: Maria | September 28, 2008 at 04:48 PM
Beautiful work. I love the way you've developed this ~ your work is delicate and lovely, and the idea of ghost trees really resonates with me. There are still a few big native trees left where I live ~ beautiful, giant marris that have been growing for hundreds of years, long before European settlement. One by one, they're being knocked down to make way for housing. It's incredibly sad and, when I drive past the places where they stood, I feel haunted by their absence.
Posted by: inkberryblue | September 29, 2008 at 01:41 AM