A resident of the northwestern United States bought land that had first
been sold for its logging rights. In August 2000, he made this land
available for the installation despite having reservations about
revealing what is less disquieting when concealed. In phase I of Red
Trees, fabric is laid and secured over approximately 300 tree stumps
razed for consumption.

The bright red fabric elicits the memory of the forest's lost grandeur
by positioning each tree in the imagination. It also acts as a shroud
for the deceased or aprotective cloth for a wound. The red coverings
signify loss as well as life blood.

The tree stumps remained shrouded for one year, August 2000
through 2001.During that time, the fabric ages through exposure to
the elements, especially the sun?s rays.

In August 2001, over 300 shrouds, altered by natural occurrences
in varying degrees of decay, are returned to Chicago.

Each piece of fabric is imprinted with the unique impression of an
individual tree, making visible that which was invisible.

In phase II of Red Trees, the shrouds are exhibited on the walls of
my studio, which accommodates an abundant amount of them.
Each shroud, fastened at the top, bellows in subtle currents of air
that create a gently moving room.

The moving room of shrouds contains records of death, yet breathes
with life. Destruction and loss are poignantly transformed into
beauty and hope. The vulnerability and value of all life, including
human life, is elicited metaphorically.

In phase III of Red Trees, the shrouds again are exposed to the
elements, especially the wind. For ten days the fabric is softened by
the breeze while hanging on a public structure several stories high.

A fully functioning metal water tower stand outside my studio door
is used as the installation structure. Itself an icon, as most others
have been dismantled, it lends new meaning and purpose to that
which is thought to be exhausted.

At night the public Red Tree structure is lit from within, resembling
a lantern, a beacon for direction. As a public installation, Red Trees
provides a demonstration that reveals what often eludes us: the
awareness of destruction, yet, the beauty and hope that can originate
from confronting and acknowledging that which has disappeared.

In the fall of 2003, phase IV of Red Trees, the shrouds are exposed to
the element of water. A pristine lake in Maine provides a scenic and
serene environment to cleanse the fabric and honor historic rituals
of purification with water.

The shrouds were laid over the warm rocks to dry in the morning sun.
Again, we are reminded of that which is wounded and of that which
can be startling in our natural landscapes.

In phase V of Red Trees, in the spring 2004, shrouds that are weakened
and torn are offered to the element of the ethereal. The pieces of
Red Trees are placed in a public garden, in a grove of bamboo, so
to dissipate over time.

With each thread unraveling in the breeze it returns to that which
it came. With it carries the thought, the hope and the prayer, that
the passerby, the viewer, is touched to become more aware of
protecting our living environment and their own unique power to
bring forth change.