Showing posts with label inspired by nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspired by nature. Show all posts

Friday, 3 August 2012

Elephant No. 306: Grapevines




It's about time to cut back my grapevines again, so I thought I'd see if I could make some kind of woven elephant today from the clippings. I made a grapevine wreath once, and a sort of basket another time, so I hoped this wouldn't bee too far beyond me, nor take too long.

This is what my vines look like in their natural state.




And this is what the clippings looked like, both before and after I removed all the leaves. I left a couple of tiny leaves at the ends of one or two vines, and a few bunches of grapes, just in case.





Having absolutely no clue how to make something that wasn't round and/or able to weave easily around itself, I took the longest piece and made a sort of elephant shape, looping the finer end around itself and locking it under a piece of vine.





This seemed to hold well enough, so I added a few more pieces. There are two things that appear to keep the vines in place: the tension that builds up in the holes between interwoven vines, and the thinner and more flexible ends, which you can use to twist and wind around other vines.





Next, I added some vines to the topline of the head, down through the trunk, and out through the back of the head to create the suggestion of an ear.





I didn't want the middle of the head to be completely blank, but I also didn't want to heavily fill in the whole thing. I wanted it to have a sort of rough and rustic look, so the next stage involved adding some more vines here and there through the middle of the head. The more vines I added, the more some of the previous vines wanted to pop out of place, but it wasn't as frustrating as I expected it to be.




To finish up, I added a piece of vine with a small bunch of grapes attached, entwining it so that it hung down a bit to suggest an eye. There happened to be a small piece of twig sticking up at precisely the right spot, so I wound the stem of the grapes around the twig to make the eye more round. I also added a trio of short twigs for a tusk.






From start to finish, this whole thing took me about an hour, including clipping the vines in the first place. It probably looks laughable to anyone who actually knows how to weave grapevines, but it actually holds together quite well. I'm also quite pleased that I didn't use any glue, twine or wire to make it hold its shape.

When I was done, I set it aside to dry. I don't know if the vines shrink as they dry—which would probably make this whole thing fall apart—or if they sort of mould to one another. Either way, I like the way it turned out. Once it dries to a nice brown, I may even trim it with glass beads to make a table decoration.





Elephant Lore of the Day
The grapevines I used today bear Concord grapes in the fall, which I'm told are good for making wine. Interestingly, winemakers sometimes use elephants to crush their grapes.

In 2008, over a glass of wine at the Boplass Winery in South Africa, winery owner Carel Nel wondered aloud why the hard work of crushing grapes has never been given to an elephant. Ian Withers, owner of the Knysna Elephant Park, happened to be sitting at the same table, and decided to run with the idea.

A short time later, a 22-year-old elephant named Harry was brought to the winery. Because Harry had been around humans for so long, he was quite amenable to their strange requests. More to the point, because keepers at Knysna checked his feet every day, Harry was very familiar with commands such as "foot up", "foot forward" and "foot down".


Harry the elephant crushing grapes at the Boplass Winery in South Africa, 2008.
Source: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1029374/A-vintage-idea-
Elephant-Harry-recruited-crush-grapes-South-Africa-Winery.html


Harry apparently showed great talent for grape-crushing from the start. After his feet were sterilized, he was placed before a large trough filled with grapes. He had no problem understanding what to do, and with feet that are close to 60 cm (2 feet) wide, Harry made much shorter work of crushing the grapes than the humans who normally did the work. In fact, Harry's only real problem was comprehending why people don't just eat the grapes instead.

In honour of Harry, the Winery issued a successful special-edition wine called Boplass Elephant, which also helped to raise awareness of the need for elephant conservation.


Harry gets to eat some of the grapes he's been stomping.
Source: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1029374/A-vintage-idea-
Elephant-Harry-recruited-crush-grapes-South-Africa-Winery.html



To Support Elephant Welfare
Elephant sanctuaries (this Wikipedia list allows you to click through to information
on a number of sanctuaries around the world)

Monday, 25 June 2012

Elephant No. 267: Lichens




While walking through a park today, I came across a rather pretty piece of bark covered in several types of lichen. I picked it up to use at some point in the future, but it was already beginning to change colour from greens to browns by the time I got home, so I thought I'd better use it today.

Lichens are organisms that result from a symbiotic relationship between a fungus and a photosynthetic "partner" that usually consists of either algae or cyanobacteria. Lichens grow in some of the world's most extreme environments, including deserts, rocky coastlines, tundra, and even slag heaps. They also thrive on leaves and bark, and on bare rock.


Parmeliopsis ambigua, a foliose lichen growing on a tree branch, Germany, 2011.
Photo: Norbert Nagel
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Parmeliopsis_ambigua_-_
lichen_-_gr%C3%BCnliche_Schneepegel-Flechte.jpg


Although lichens are widespread, and often live for decades or longer, many are sensitive to environmental changes, including pollution, heavy metals and changes in ozone levels. Because of this sensitivity, they are often used as indicator species by scientists.

Lichens can survive low moisture levels for extended periods of time. When rehydrated, their membranes actually reconfigure over a period of several minutes. Because they have a photosynthetic component, lichens change carbon dioxide into carbon sugars, feeding the host fungus and plant from atmospheric rain and dust. The fungus acts as a moisture reservoir, while the photosynthetic component provides energy.

Lichens come in various shapes and forms, including "foliose" (leafy), "crustose" (crust-like), "fruticose" (branch-like), and "squamulose" (scaly). Sometimes the same lichen fungus can develop into two different forms on the same surface.


British Soldier Lichen.
Source: http://www.billi-jean.com/blog/?p=286


Despite the fact that lichens must compete with plants for sunlight, they are so small and grow so slowly that they can thrive where other plants may not. They are the first photosynthetic organisms to settle in places without soil, often becoming the sole vegetation in an area, or even a substrate on which other plant material eventually grows. They have no roots, and do not need to absorb water continuously as do most plants.

Although not harmfully parasitic to plants, lichens will destroy rock both chemically and physically. This means that carved stone, such as gravestones and statues, must be kept free of lichen to avoid degradation.

Weirdly enough, lichens can even survive in Space. In 2005, two species of lichen were sealed in a capsule and launched into orbit. Once in orbit, the capsules were opened, and the lichens were directly exposed to the vacuum of Space, including cosmic radiation and fluctuating temperatures. Brought back to Earth 15 days later, the lichens were healthy and showed no sign of damage from their time in Space.

In addition to their importance to the environment, lichens have also been adapted by humans for use as food, traditional medicines, perfumes and dyes. Although some lichens are eaten only when food is scarce, others have served as staples—including Iceland moss, which was consumed across northern Europe in porridge, bread, soup and salad. In some Asian cuisines, certain lichens are even seen as delicacies. Although very few lichens are toxic to humans, the majority of poisonous lichens are yellow in colour.


Gathering of the lichen Umbilicaria esculenta as food.
From Hiroshige II's Shokoku meisho hyakkei
("100 famous views of Japan")
, 1860.
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
File:Hiroshige_II_-_Kishu_kumano_iwatake_tori_-_
Shokoku_meisho_hyakkei.jpg


In medicine, some lichens appear to function as antibiotics, while others produce a substance similar to cannabis. There is even a suggestion that certain types of lichen may degrade prions—the infectious agents responsible for spongiform encephalopathy, also known as Jakob Creutzfeldt's disease or Mad Cow disease.

For more than 2,000 years, lichens have also been used to produce red and purple dyes. Testing for pH levels actually uses a dye extracted from lichen. Lichens are also used by model-makers to form trees and shrubs, and are particularly common in model railroad settings and other dioramas.

For today's elephant, I had a fairly small piece of bark, measuring about 5 x 6.3 cm (2 x 2.5 inches). It seemed to have several types of lichen on it, however, so there was a lot to play with.




On the other hand, I would have to play on a very delicate scale, so I decided to use a fine blade. The raw piece was also quite beautiful as it was, so I wanted to preserve as much of the texture as I could. I also knew that I would have to remove material very sparingly, because there would be no way to put anything back on once I sliced it off.





I started by spraying the lichen with water, because it seemed to be drying out and changing colour. I then turned it around every which-way to see if I could find an obvious elephant in it. When I thought I saw an elephant, I started teasing bits of lichen away.

This type of material is incredibly fragile, particuarly when damp. The largest mass had a very spongy texture that didn't yield easily to the tip of my knife blade. I had to use the knife almost vertically, essentially poking the surface and pulling off pinprick-sized pieces.

I liked the background textures as a counterpoint to the orange-green "fluffiness" of the main area, so I didn't scrape all the way down to the bark, except beneath the trunk and neck area. For the rest, I mostly just shaped things, deciding that an abstract would look best. To finish, I swirled the knife around to form an eye.

This was a bit fussy, but I didn't mind, as it took only half an hour. I didn't remove a lot of material—in fact, this probably amounted more to grooming the lichen than anything else, because the main shape was more or less already there.

It's quite fragile, and I have no idea how to preserve the colours once it dries out again, but I like the final piece very much. The different textures and colours are lovely on their own, and I'm definitely going to be on the lookout for similarly pretty pieces to try this again.




Elephant Lore of the Day
I've written before about elephants knowing how to drink from a hose, and how to make and use tools, but the video below surprised me.

In addition to drinking from the hose, this Asian elephant has also learned how to hose itself off.







To Support Elephant Welfare
Elephant sanctuaries (this Wikipedia list allows you to click through to information
on a number of sanctuaries around the world)
Wildlife Trust of India

Saturday, 23 June 2012

Elephant No. 265: Anthotype




This is one of the more unusual printing techniques I've come across—although perhaps not that unusual for anyone who's ever made contact prints in a photography class.

An anthotype—from the Greek anthos (flower)—is created by using photosensitive emulsions created from plant material. A sheet of paper is coated with the emulsion, then light-blocking material such as a leaf, flower or silhouette is laid on top. The entire piece is then placed outside in the sun until the background bleaches out to a near-white, leaving the sun-blocking material as the design. You can also use this process with large-format negatives. Since I didn't have any appropriate negatives on hand, I decided to go the contact-print route.


Anthotype of lion statue from a negative by Jalo Porkalla.
This anthotype required an entire summer to develop under a Finnish sun.
Source: http://193.166.40.90/?cat=18


For millennia, dyes have been made from plant material such as leaves, twigs, fruits and vegetables. Some are more light-fast than others, bleaching out slowly, while some are so sensitive to light that they will disappear within minutes.

Invented by British scientist John Herschel in 1842, the anthotype was originally conceived as a photographic process for making images of flowers. It was ultimately abandoned as impractical and time-consuming, and is today used primarily in fine-art printing. Because they are so susceptible to the effects of light, anthotype images tend to be fragile and prone to fading. No one seems to have figured out how to fully arrest the fading process, although some plant materials are known to fade less readily than others.


Anthotype by yourmung.
Source: http://yourmung.deviantart.com/art/Anthotype-00-190296364


The colour of the flower or plant is often the colour that you'll get in the final print. Some plants, however, will yield very different colours. For example, lilacs result in pinky browns, rather than mauve, and my own experiment today resulted in a light lavender, despite the fact that I started out with a rich, dark burgundy. This is partly due to the action of the sun on certain pigments, fading out some, while retaining others.

There are as many variations in tincture as there are plants in the garden. Some plants also react better with than water. Popular flowers include poppies, peonies and violets. Cabbage and grasses are also supposed to be good. For an excellent description of the process by anthotype expert Malin Fabbri, click here.

The method is relatively straightforward:

1. Crush plant material with a mortar and pestle, or in a blender if quantities are large.

2. Add distilled water, denatured alcohol, or even vodka. The thicker the mixture, the darker the background.

3. Strain mixture through cheesecloth, a fine strainer or a coffee filter.

4. Paint a piece of heavy paper—such as watercolour paper—with the mixture.

5. Let paper dry in a dark place—or it will start to fade. You can also speed up the drying process with a hairdryer.

6. Arrange leaves, silhouettes or whatever on the dry paper.

7. Place in bright sun. Check periodically until background fades to white, or as light as you want it.

There was no comprehensive online source listing plant materials, but I saw some pretty prints using blueberries, so I decided to try that. The main issue with this process is how sensitive the emulsion is to light. Some emulsions will fade almost immediately when placed in the sun. Others take days or even weeks. The sun is very hot and bright here today, so I decided to take my chances.

I started by grinding a few blueberries and a couple of blackberries with a mortar and pestle. I mixed this with distilled water, which is supposedly the best liquid for maintaining the colour of the original material.






I then strained the emulsion through a fine strainer to remove most of the pulp. I wanted to keep some of the specks of plant material to add texture to the paper, so I opted for a fine mesh rather than cheesecloth or a coffee filter.




Once I had a nice emulsion, I painted it onto a piece of medium-weight watercolour paper. You need a relatively sturdy paper for this process, so that it will stand up to the tincture, as well as to the trauma of sitting in sun for hours or days.




While my paper was drying in a darkened room, I cut out an elephant silhouette. I used black bristol board for this, thinking that a dark colour would be less likely to allow light to shine through.




The paper dried quickly, so I was ready to go in about an hour or so. It dried a much bluer colour than the original emulsion, but that was okay with me.

I placed my sihouette on the paper, and took it outside to let it sit for a few hours. I chose the brightest part of my yard, where the sun is likely to shine for most of the day. It was about 12:30 in the afternoon when I placed it outside.




Nearly six hours later, the background had faded enough that I was okay with it. It hadn't faded to white, but it was about as good as it was going to get within a single day. I peeked under the trunk to check it before disassembling everything, and there was enough contrast to show where the silhouette had been. The sun sneaked under the top edges of the crown because the paper curled away just a bit, despite being weighted down. Most serious anthotypers apparently use photographic printing frames for something like this. For artist Jalo Porkkala's set-up, click here.

With some emulsions, apparently they need to be left for days or weeks to fade properly, and berries may be one of these. I was a bit disappointed in the final image, but I guess you take what you get when you only have a day's worth of sun to play with. I was also a bit disappointed in the darkness of the original colour on the paper. Supposedly you can get vibrant colours with very few flower petals, so several berries should have been fairly dark. Oh well.

I was intrigued enough by this process that I will probably try it again at some point, with different types of flowers and leaves. I may even try with some kind of large-format negative next time. And several days' worth of sun.







Elephant Lore of the Day
In the late 1990s, rangers in South Africa's Pilanesberg Park discovered a disturbing trend. For years, rangers had been trying to protect the endangered white rhinoceros, which was suddenly being attacked and killed by unknown assailants.

Because the rhino horns had been left with the bodies, they knew it wasn't the work of poachers. Instead, it soon became apparent that a group of elephant juvenile delinquents had taken to attacking and killing the Park's rhinoceroses.

This is highly unusual behaviour among properly socialized elephants. Unfortunately, this particular group had grown up without any male role models, and had no idea what appropriate elephant behaviour might be.

The problem dated back to a major elephant cull some 20 years earlier. In South Africa's Kruger National Park, elephant populations had grown out of hand. At the time, there was no way of relocating large adult elephants, so a decision was made to kill the adults and save the babies. The babies were then transported to other parks, such as Pilanesberg. Although the supervising veterinarian at the time worried that the young elephants might not adjust without adult supervision, there was no other option.

The net result was an entire generation of traumatized orphaned elephants, thrown together without any adults to show them how to behave. Elephants learn from one another, and knowledge is passed down from generation to generation, making the cull nothing short of catastrophic. Years later, the orphans had essentially developed into troubled teens with raging hormones. In elephants, raging hormones lead to murderous behaviour, leading in turn to the killing of rhinos.

Park rangers began photographing the suspects and tracking them. Not only were the elephants attacking and killing rhinos, but they also became increasingly aggressive towards tourist vehicles. Worst of all was an elephant named Mafuta. Mafuta became leader of the difficult herd, essentially turning them into an unmanageable street gang, with himself as the ringleader. Mafuta was so bad that, if distracted from attacking a rhino, he would fly into a rage if the rhino escaped, and would return to attack the same rhino several weeks later.

Rangers worried that they would have to shoot the elephants, but wanted to avoid killing them if there was any other way. They hit upon a solution that worked surprisingly well: bring in some even larger bull elephants.

No one had ever transported fully-grown adult elephants before, but by 1998, rangers at Kruger National Park had brought some fully grown male elephants to Pilanesberg Park. The bigger, older elephants quickly established a pecking order, putting the younger elephants in their place, which also has the effect of reducing a younger elephant's hormone levels. As one of the rangers put it, it was like suddenly confronting a group of out-of-control teenagers with their fathers.

The juvenile delinquents seem to have understood the message. Since the arrival of the adult elephants, not a single rhino has been killed by an elephant.


Male elephant and rhino, South Africa, 2011.
Source: http://blog.malamala.com/index.php/2011/01/december-game-report/
rhino-and-elephant/

 
To Support Elephant Welfare
Elephant sanctuaries (this Wikipedia list allows you to click through to information
on a number of sanctuaries around the world)
Wildlife Trust of India

Thursday, 24 May 2012

Elephant No. 235: Ikebana




The spring and early summer flowers in my garden are so pretty right now that I thought I'd try making a small arrangement today in the shape of an elephant. I'm not sure this is quite elevated enough to be considered ikebana, but the intention is there.

The word "ikebana" comes from the Japanese words ikeru, meaning "keep alive or living", and hana, meaning "flower", and describes a form of minimalist floral arrangement.

The art of ikebana is thought to originate in the practice of offering flowers on an altar, which arrived in Japan with Buddhism during the seventh century A.D. By the middle of the fifteenth century, ikebana had emerged as a full-fledged artistic practice, and became enshrined in Japanese society.

Ikebana is more than simply pushing flowers into a vase. By definition, ikebana is a discipline that brings Nature and humanity together. Unlike floral arrangements which emphasize multicoloured arrangements of blossoms, ikebana often focuses on leaves, branches and other parts of the plant. Form, line and shape are far more important than colour, and ikebana can be somewhat stark in appearance.


Ikebana by Yoshiko Nakamura, Cherry Blossom Festival,
Seattle, U.S.A., 2008
Photo: Joe Mabel
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Ikebana_-_
Yoshiko_Nakamura_01B.jpg


Ikebana arrangements are usually structured in a loose triangular shape, with the three main points delineated by twigs. In some schools of thought, the three points represent heaven, earth and humankind; in others, they represent the sun, moon and earth. The choice of container is also often a key part of the composition.

There is a spiritual dimension to ikebana as well. Silence is considered a must, because ikebana is seen as a time to appreciate aspects of Nature that we often overlook in our busy lives. Ikebana is said to encourage people to become tolerant of differences in Nature and general life. It is also aimed at inspiring practitioners to identify with beauty in all forms of art.

There are a number of styles of ikebana. The earliest forms consisted of a tall central stem accompanied by two shorter stems. Later, more elaborate arrangements developed, with greater numbers of stems and branches. By the twentieth century, freestyle ikebana was added to the lexicon.

Today, ikebana arrangements often fall into one of the following modern styles:

Moribana upright style: This is the most basic structure in ikebana. Flowers are arranged in a shallow vase or basket, and are secured on metal spikes, or "floral frogs". Moribana literally means "piled-up flowers".

Moribana slanting style: This is a more gentle-looking arrangement than the upright style, often featuring branches that look best when placed in a slanted arrangement.

Nageire upright style: This is a very simple arrangement, often with only a single flower. The arrangement is placed upright in a tall, narrow-mouthed container. Nageire literally means "tossed in".

Nageire slanted style: Like the moribana slanting style, this is a gentler arrangement than the upright style. It is looser than the moribana equivalent, and is considered ideal for ikebana neophytes.

Nageire cascading style: The main stem hangs lower than the rim of the vase, and is often flexible to create nice lines. This is balanced with flowers in the main body of the design.

Guess which one I'm making.

I picked stems or branches of the following: bleeding heart, rose, Japanese tree peony, chives, mallow, perennial cornflower, lily of the valley, phlox and grapevine. I didn't really know what I'd need from all of that, but I thought it was better to have too much than too little. I was particularly interested in finding a curved woody branch that might serve as a trunk.

Next I tried to find suitable containers. I have far too many vases, but I more or less knew I'd need something relatively tall and narrow for the nageire cascading style I was going to attempt.

Because I've never tried ikebana before, my first attempts involved far too much greenery and far too many stems and branches. I was essentially trying to make a picture of an elephant with flowers and leaves, and it looked ridiculous. If you can see an elephant in the photograph below, you're doing better than I. And this was one of my more restrained efforts.




I fiddled with various vases, branches, stems, flowers and leaves for about 45 minutes before I realized the obvious: in ikebana, less is more. So I started over.

This time, I began with a single twig from a rosebush. It was too long when I started, so I trimmed it in increments until I liked the curve well enough. I would have liked a bit more curve and droop to the stem, but there were other qualities in the branch that I liked, so I stuck with this.




Next, I added a stem with a seed pod from a Japanese tree peony. I liked this because it functioned partly as an eye, and partly as a visual anchor for the arrangement.




I decided that this would be it for the head and trunk, so I now concentrated on the ear. For the ear, I wanted something floral, but not too dense or overwhelming, so I started with a few sprigs of lily of the valley.




I almost stopped there, then decided that I really wanted to add a bit of bleeding heart. I like the way bleeding heart droops—and had in fact originally thought of it for the trunk—so I inserted a stem in the ear area.



I almost stopped here again, then decided to add one more stem of bleeding heart and be done with it. After I added the second stem, I found it almost impossible to stop fiddling with the placement of the flowers in the ear. I think I tried about four or five different configurations before I was relatively happy with it.

Those who know me know that I'm not really a less-is-more kind of girl, so this is incredibly restrained for me. I don't normally gravitate towards minimalist anything. That being said, I actually enjoyed trying this. It's a quiet sort of activity, and forces you to think in terms of single lines to represent something far more complex.

I'm sure anyone who knows a thing or two about ikebana will laugh at my efforts, and rightly so. It hardly looks like an elephant at all, unless you're told what it is. Even then, it's like a piece of post-modern art that needs a label for it to make sense. Still, I think I would try this again—now that I know not to throw in everything, including the kitchen sink.





Elephant Lore of the Day
Making elephants entirely of flowers is an enduring tradition in India. Although these are usually smallish elephants made of flowers such as marigolds, zinnias and daisies, occasionally someone will make a life-sized elephant with more expensive or exotic blooms.

For the 2008 Dasara Flower Show in Mysore, an elephant measuring 3.6 metres (12 feet) in height was produced by floral artist M. Kalidas and his team from Bangalore. Inspired by the decorated elephants that take part in the yearly Dasara procession, Kalidas decided to produce a life-sized replica, including a howdah with a model of the goddess Chamundeshwari inside, also made of flowers.

It took 60,000 roses—at a cost of more than 600,000 rupees ($10,700 U.S.)—to make the elephant, along with the work of 13 people for three full days.


Elephant made with 60,000 roses, Dasara Flower Show, Mysore, India, 2008.
Photo: M.A. Sriram
Source: http://www.hindu.com/2008/10/03/stories/2008100351330200.htm




To Support Elephant Welfare
Elephant sanctuaries (this Wikipedia list allows you to click through to information
on a number of sanctuaries around the world)

Saturday, 12 May 2012

Elephant No. 223: Arborglyph




This idea comes courtesy of my friend Sally, who lives on a beautiful country estate with many trees. I have very few trees in my urban yard, but there are enough that I didn't mind cutting a small elephant design into one or two of them.

Arborglyphs—literally "tree writing"—involve the marking of a tree by carving a design into its bark. Common examples are the initials and hearts incised by lovers, markings to blaze a trail, and symbols indicating the site of buried possessions.

During the 1830s, many Cherokee people were forcibly removed from their homes in the United States. Believing that they would someday return, families buried their treasures, and carved directions to these caches on beech trees and rocks. The symbols were unique to each family, and were coded so that no one but a family member could decipher them. In a similar vein, aware that their traditional way of life was about to be disrupted forever, the Cherokee also recorded details of their lives in arborglyphs.

Arborglyphs were also widely produced by young Basque and Irish men who came to North America in the early twentieth century. Many worked as shepherds in remote areas and, to while away the time, carved names, faces, poems and dates into aspen trees, using pocketknives or iron nails. Because aspen trees—the preferred carving surface—only live 80 or 90 years, many of these carvings have since disappeared, although many of the examples in Oregon and Nevada have been photographed, and researchers are racing to locate and record as many more as possible.


Basque arborglyph in Nevada.
Source: http://www.tahoeculture.com/art/tahoes-cultural-heritage-and-
historic-sites/arborglyphs-preserve-branch-of-tahoe-history/


Arborglyphs can also be very simple markings such as arrows or other types of "blaze", used to indicate a pathway, point to a source of water, or even warn of dangers on the trail ahead.

I actually had no idea there was such a pretty name for carving designs into a tree. I also didn't realize there was such an illustrious history to the activity.

I must admit that today's activity makes me feel a bit guilty. If it weren't for the fact that the trees I chose are likely going to have to be cut down in a few weeks, I might not have done it.

I chose two trees. The first is known around here as a Manitoba maple (Acer negundo), or American maple in the rest of the world. It doesn't have as smooth a carving surface as an aspen, but aspens—or poplars, as they are more commonly known here—have become relatively rare in recent years, felled by some kind of blight a few years ago. For my second tree, I chose a sugar maple (Acer saccharinum).

I've actually never carved or inscribed anything into a tree before. I only tried whittling for the first time a couple of months ago as well, so I can't say that I'm all that adept at anything to do with wood and carving.

For a knife, I decided to use my Swiss Army knife—or maybe it's a Swiss Army knife knock-off. I figured this would make my activity at least somewhat similar to the way arborglyphs are usually made.




There's not really much I can say about technique for this type of thing. My method involved slicing away thin layers to start, widening the area as I went. For sharper lines, I scribed an outline, then dug in along it and scraped towards the centre of the image. I also sometimes used a scraping motion to even things out.

I liked the wood of the sugar maple better than the wood of the Manitoba maple for a number of reasons. For one thing, I dislike the smell of the Manitoba maple when you cut into it. For another, the colour of the sugar maple is nicer when you remove the bark. And last, but not least, the harder wood of the sugar maple makes it more interesting to carve—and, strangely enough, not as easy to goof up as the Manitoba maple.

Because that's about all I can tell you, here are my three attempts, in the order in which I carved them.

Crowned Elephant in Sugar Maple









Elephant Head in Manitoba Maple









 Baby Elephant in Sugar Maple







Outside of the fact that I felt a bit guilty about gouging into the trees, I didn't mind this activity at all. It only took me about 45 minutes to do all three, and I didn't find it physically difficult.

On the other hand, it's not necessarily simple to make a perfect image when you're slicing into only the surface layers with a penknife. The grain and bark fight back a bit, and in the final elephant, you can see by the different colours of the head and body that I was also dealing with a large, hard knot in the wood.

Although I liked this well enough to try it again sometime, I did feel bad about carving into living trees. So don't look for a notched trail of elephants through your neighbourhood forest anytime soon.





Elephant Lore of the Day

Just like human toddlers, elephant toddlers are often easily amused by the simplest of toys. Olmeg, a graduate of the elephant orphanage run by the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, was particularly fond of a large log.

Nicknamed "Olmeg's Rubber Duck" by staff of the Trust, the log was usually left near Olmeg's favourite waterhole. Olmeg would heave it into the water, wade in after it, and happily roll the log about. After a bit, he would heave the log back out of the water, toss it about on land, then roll it into the water again.

And also just like some human toddlers, Olmeg did not like to share. If any other elephant dared to approach the log without Olmeg's permission, he would raise his ears from the sidelines and glare. Once Olmeg was ready to play with the log, others could join in. No one, however, was to touch the Rubber Duck until Olmeg agreed.


African elephant, Serengeti National Park, Tanzania
Photo: Carole-Anne
Source:http://www.redbubble.com/people/carole-anne/works/7092053-african-elephant-
serengeti-national-park-tanzania

 
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