“Decorating nature� An art project by Norm Magnusson
for Daisy, Alice and Moss, who are crazy inspiring. lymta
all of this stuff, every last little bit of it is © 2015 by Norm Magnusson. don’t steal any of it and don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.
Decorating Nature Paintings on leaves and things
art and text by Norm Magnusson
Some early pieces -- chalk on rocks in the Mink Hollow stream. Woodstock, NY
My watercolor set. Makes me happy just looking at it.
his project began in India, in 2008, when my family and I were touring the state of Kerala in the south. It was three memorable weeks of travelling from the mountains to the backwaters to the beach and all points in between. At one point, we stayed at the Marari Beach resort on the Arabian Sea, a lovely place with a great big pool and wonderful facilities. But no watercolor paper -- when I travel, I always bring my watercolors with me to make little paintings of local leaves and whatnot:
I’d been looking for watercolor paper in every town we’d visited, but with no luck. And while the hotel staff was happy to supply me with as much printer paper as I wanted, it’s just not the same. It doesn’t have the same weight as watercolor paper; it dimples with the wet and generally just isn’t that satisfying to paint on. Then I went to the pool. A gorgeous big pool, surrounded by chairs and tables and places to sit and tourists relaxing and reading their holiday suspense novels. And there, by our little perch in the back corner of the pool were the most beautiful big dried leaves. They seemed perfect to paint on. And so that’s what I did.
The pool at the Marari Beach resort in Mararikulum, Kerala, India
packed up those Indian leaves and brought them home. I thought maybe I would frame them up and give them as gifts. Despite my careful (read: haphazard) packing, the paint was all crumbled off of them by the time we got back to Woodstock and that was the end of that. At least until our next vacation. That’s when the seed that had sprouted in India began to grow in America.
The poolside leaves from Marari Beach resort in India.
To date, I’ve finished over a hundred of these little “interventions with nature”. When I do one, I put it up on my blog which is a great way to keep track of them and also to share them. The blog has attracted a lot of attention over the years: a lot of articles and reposts and even imitators and over 120,000 unique visitors.. You can see it here: http://decoratingnature.blogspot.com/
a small selection from the blog
The summer after we got back from India we went to visit my dad in South Carolina and there, in his front yard, lying on the ground by a big pine tree was this nice, big, sturdy leaf that was a lot like those leaves in India that hadn’t survived the trip home. I’m not sure what kind of leaf it was, but I seemed perfect for my needs, so I brought it inside and broke out the watercolors. Now, dots have been a key motif in my paintings for as long as I’ve been an artist, so it was not surprising that I felt like painting dots on it. Anyway, I liked the way it turned out and this time around, instead of keeping the actual leaf as the art piece, I wanted to have a photo of it as the art piece, a nice record of it, since the leaf itself and the watercolors I’d painted on it would crumble off or dissolve back into the earth soon enough. I took it back to where I found it and snapped a whole bunch of pics of it. This is the one I liked best. The dots reminded me of a clown costume and I imagined it as the leaf of a fictional clown tree and gave it that title. Adding the title added a level of conceptual interest that made me think this could be the beginning of an interesting art project.
Shot at my dad’s house in Hilton Head, SC
fig. 1: leaf of the clown tree
After the leaf of the clown tree the logical next step (upon returning from vacation) was to paint the clown tree itself. This large dead pine tree was in the woods behind our house, I painted the inner trunk of it to make it look like there were green dots on it where the bark was falling off, imagining that the dots of a “clown tree� would start out green before developing into their characteristic clown-like colors. The tree needed to be photographed early in the morning and I asked the kids who wanted to hike up into the woods with me to help take the picture and, of course, Alice volunteered. As she always does. After watching me shoot it from numerous different angles, she took the camera and took this shot. Acrylic paint.
Shot in the woods behind my house. Woodstock, NY
fig. 2: inner bark of the immature clown tree
I’ve done a few where multiple leaves join together to create the design and they’re always fun, but this one turned out even more fun. It was a slightly breezy day and the leaves kept blowing away and I swear I had an earlier arrangement of them that was far superior to this one, but I didn’t get a photo of it and after it blew away, I was never able to duplicate it. So sweet, the fragility of my efforts. It’s one of the things I like about this body of work.
Shot on the big stone by the firepit in my back yard. Woodstock, NY
fig. 90: it’s said that if you arrange the leaves of the bluepoint tree in a circle, you will attract true love
People always ask about the process of these pieces and no single piece has invited more questions than this one. The answer is always this: “No, I did not take a photo of a leaf and photoshop pixels onto it. I painted pixels onto a leaf and took a photo of it.” This piece also quickly became the most conceptually interesting for me, evoking questions of how we humans interact with the world around us and our ever increasing drain on natural resources, especially in this digital era. Also, for what it’s worth, I did not use a computer to help me map out the color and position of the pixels. Just my own sloppy imagination. Watercolor.
Shot by the porch by the stream. Woodstock, NY
fig. 5: rhododendron showing signs of pixelanimus infestation
Yes. Brown-eyed susans. Painted petals blue. Watercolor.
Photographed just off my front porch. Woodstock, NY
fig. 50: genetically modified brown-eyed susans are perfectly safe.
Sometimes I paint a couple different versions of a piece. For this one, I painted 3 different maple leaves with the same colored dots. (Seriously, I could paint on these red leaves all day long and not get bored.) Two of them I loved and one of them I didn’t. In a first, I put both of them up on my blog. Somehow this one made it to the book and the other one did not. Don’t ask me how. Watercolor. Enjoy.
Shot in my back garden. Woodstock, NY
fig. 92: certain mosses secrete a pheromone that reacts beautifully (and exclusively) with maple leaves
One of the prerequisites of being an artist is the willingness to do things that others might think are strange. My friend April was over when I was painting this maple leaf. I was afraid she would think I was crazy, painting green circles on a leaf (or crazier, as the case may be) but she didn’t. Turns out she kinda liked the project, and even gave this piece its name and told me I should do a book. Thanks April! Doing the book right now. Watercolor.
Shot in my backyard in Woodstock, NY
fig. 6: leaf of the rare Christmas maple
I painted this leaf one morning before my assistant showed up for work. We were working on “Animal alphabet”, a kids app for iPhone and iPad and she was helping do a bunch of the heavy lifting in Photoshop. But she’s also a really talented photographer, so I gave her the leaf and my camera and told her to please go take a good picture of it. She did. She kicked ass. Here’s the shot.
Shot by the footbridge over the stream by my house in Woodstock, NY
fig. 38: in autumn, some leaves will use color bars to help get everything perfect
My sister lives in New Mexico. Outside of Albuquerque, east of the mountains in the high plains desert. It’s lovely country with beautiful light and interesting flora and fauna. This is a dried out hull of a cholla cactus. Beautiful scrubby tough succulents, when they die, the climate dries them out quickly and leaves their shells lying all around the desert floor. Blue and orange is one of my favorite color combinations, so, in anticipation of shooting this against the blue blue sky, I painted orange outlines around each hole in its side. Watercolor.
Shot at my sister’s ranch in New Mexico
fig. 12: late stage orangification of the cholla cactus
I’ve done a few of these pieces on various sorts of pine needles. All of them have been very time consuming but most of them have not turned out as magnificent as I had hoped. This one is the best of them all. Watercolor on pine needles.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 54: some evergreens are not
River rock, painted with acrylic paint and photographed underwater in the stream that flows by my house.
Shot in the Mink Hollow stream in Woodstock, NY
fig. 8: metamorphic rock undergoing underwater metamorphosis
This piece is the first one I’d ever done in a potted plant. Sarane gave us some indoor plants a few years ago and somehow, miraculously, they are still alive. This one was outside during a summer rain shower and made a lovely background for this painted leaf. Watercolor.
Shot on my front porch. Plant on the arm of an Adirondack chair. Woodstock, NY
fig. 82: dying leaves of house plants still retain a strong memory of their past glory
Sometimes the sun comes through the trees
in the most delightful way.
It can make for a very dramatic photograph.
Dappled, dark shadows and bright highlights.
This is another photo I really enjoy.
Watercolor.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 10: solitary leaf of the chevron tree
Cheating? What is cheating when making art? It’s a funny question and people get all caught up in it and have loads of strong feelings about it. For this piece (one of my favorites) I took a photo of the rock, imported it into photoshop and pixelated it with enormous pixels. Then I printed it out, got my trusty watercolor set and painted that image onto the rock. Some people seem to think that if a computer is involved, it’s cheating. I think that there are some things I’m better at and some things the computer is better at and I want to use the best stuff I can find to make my art the best it can be.
Shot in the bed of the Mink Hollow stream. Woodstock, NY
fig. 56: not normally associated with seasonal transformations, some stream-side stones actually will begin to pixellate in late autumn/early winter
Searching for leaves is really the best part of this job. Walking through the woods or down the village streets keeping an eye open for an irrestible specimen. Stopping. Stooping. Picking it up to see if its promise is true; it’s all a quite agreeable pursuit for this middle-aged man.
The path to the tennis courts in Rhinebeck passes many trees, but right down near the final fence is a yellow poplar whose leaves are distinctively tulip shaped but, evidently, very fragile; it’s hard to find one that’s not ripped or rotten in the autumn. Or, at least, I haven’t had much luck. Until this one. Watercolor.
Shot in my backyard. Rhinebeck, NY
fig. 113: some yellow poplar leaves develop faux thorns to repel predators
I read a story years ago. Some kinda Zen parable about an art student of some sort who had been given an assignment to arrange pebbles on a table top. Each time she thought she had nailed it, the master told her: “No. Try again.” All morning long and through lunch she worked and presented her work to the master. Each time she thought she had arranged the stones perfectly, the master’s reply was the same. Finally, about to try again, she snapped. Deciding that she would never be able to get them perfect, she threw the stones down on the table and walked away. As she reached the door, she heard the master’s voice. He stood regarding the latest arrangement and had said just one word: “Perfect.” I work hard to get my arrangements “just so”. Not too studied, not too haphazard, not too this, not too that. Just right. This arrangement just happened. I had to stop myself from mucking it up with my taste and my ego and my self-consciousness. And just let it be. Perfect.
Shot just off the path to my front door. Lake Hill, NY
fig. 103: occasionally, leaves fall all the way from the sky.
Maple key. Red watercolor.
Photo with my Daisy’s iPhone 4S in Rhinebeck, NY
fig. 73: a maple key with cartoonitus
340. That’s how many photos I took of this leaf to get it right. Closer, further, bigger aperture, higher f-stop, auto-focus, manual focus, in shadows, in sunlight, in the morning, at dusk, it just never worked out. Then, on day 3 of this effort, home for a half hour between appointments, the sun was just so -bright and as high in the sky as it can get in mid-November. And I got it. Just how I wanted it. Wrinkles and all.
Shot in my back garden. Woodstock, NY
fig. 97: a leaf begins the process of blending into its background
Another piece that created confusion and raised doubts. “Oh, please, you didn’t paint that, it’s just a Photoshop creation.” So I made a short movie and put it up on YouTube. You can see it there on the channel “Normioso”. Watercolor.
Shot on my front lawn. Woodstock, NY
fig. 33: the rare chameleobirch leaf can be harder to find than a 4-leaf clover
Most of these pieces take between 30 and 60 minutes to paint and about as much time to photograph. There are some notable exceptions where it’s taken me days, 30 or so hours of work just to paint the piece. This is one of those exceptions. The leaf was a gift from a friend and it sat around and sat around and dried out and crinkled up before I finally decided what to do with it. The painting happened over the course of two weeks. I would paint a few stripes and then wait for them to dry (and work on other things, of course!) before I painted the next ones. Sometimes an hour between stripes, sometimes a day. I was terrified that the leaf would get jostled or otherwise ruined before I put the last stripe on. I was lucky. Watercolor.
Shot in my backyard, the first sunny day after a snow Rhinebeck, NY
fig. 118: frequently, the last leaf to fall is the most colorful.
The Autograph tree is so called because the thickish, leathery leaves allow you (should you so desire) to scratch your name into them. The scratch does not kill the leaf and will stay visible throughout the natural life span of the leaf. (Special thanks to Paula B. for cluing me in to what kinda leaf this was.) Watercolor.
This photo, and the following 2, shot at Lighthouse Court hotel, Key West, FL
fig. 41: the male of the autograph tree forms garish yellow patterns on its leaves in an attempt to attract a mate
fig. 43: an older autograph tree leaf, with its dignity intact
fig. 42: in late- to mid-winter, some leaves can be found in Florida sporting unnaturally bright colors
This was an early one and I actually still have the pinecone with most of the paint intact. I guess pinecones make a good canvas. Watercolor.
Shot in front of my neighbor Bill’s house. Woodstock, NY
fig. 11: pine cone showing early signs of blueitis
I am not much of a photographer. I know this because I know some really good photographers and I’m not like them at all. I’ve got a decent eye and a mediocre understanding of the machine and mostly that’s enough for what I do. But this photo? I love. I’m pleased with the watercolors on the mountain laurel but I’m very pleased with the photo.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 15: mountain laurel with peacock syndrome
White watercolor on a leaf on the snow in the sun.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 22: to get by in a white world, some leaves will go so far as to change their appearance
Acrylic paint on a river rock.
Shot in the bed of the Mink Hollow Stream. Woodstock, NY
fig. 25: a 17 year old river rock.
I love ginkgos. They are a unique species of tree with no close living relatives. In fact, in the genus Ginkgophyta, there is only one species: ginkgo biloba. Contrast this to the genus Eudicot, which has over 200 families and many more species. Anyway. I love ginkgos. But, as far as I know, they don’t grow in the Catskills, so I brought these autumn leaves north from a trip to NYC, painted them and shot them in my garden. Felt kinda like cheating, but, pshaw! there’s no such thing as cheating when you’re making art. Right?
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 57: gingko leaves are individually beautiful but collectively stunning.
Some of the painted leaves have an idea behind them. Some of them are just little designs I thought were pretty. My art is all about the idea, that’s what I’ve put the emphasis on for as long as I’ve been making art. But you know, if I had to choose between smart concept or good looking, I would choose good looking every time. I think this leaf is good looking. Watercolor.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 53: spiralchetes infest a redbud leaf
This one is not one of my favorites, but it’s one of my most popular pieces. Just goes to show, the artist is not always the best judge of their work. Watercolor on leaf.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 3: stripeticoccus bacteria on maple leaf
Watercolor on acorn.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 37: many nuts are not patriotic at all.
By the time I did this leaf, I had done a couple of other objects with pixels covering them in their entirety and I thought it might work to just “pixelate” a portion of the object. I didn’t realize that it would look so much like a photo that had been pixelated to hide someone’s privates.
Shot on the big rock by the fire pit in my back yard. Woodstock, NY
fig. 95: some oak leaves self-censor.
A pine tree fell across the stream during a big storm. I painted it with a short spectrum of house paint, starting at yellow and ending in brown. A few weeks later, the leaves on the trees matched the colors on the tree and I was too busy to take that shot. I will regret it forever. But I will never regret the lovely early autumn days spent painting in the stream, with a big piece of cardboard catching the drips from my big brush. Pure joy.
Shot in the Mink Hollow stream. Woodstock, NY
fig. 48: decomposition usually follows a predictable pattern, as seen in this river pine
River stones, dried by the fireplace, painted with acrylic paint, dried some more by the fireplace and then dropped in the river. It’s about a 15 foot drop from our footbridge to the stream and though I tried to drop them in an attractive pattern, I did not succeed and had to find a really long stick (the trunk of a downed sapling was conveniently lying nearby) and move them into a better configuration. Parts of the stream freeze and then the snow builds up on the frozen bits. The colored stones were nestled in between two such mounds of fresh powder. I love winter.
Shot in the Mink Hollow stream. Woodstock, NY
fig. 16: the more ostentatious river rocks generally stick together.
I love white dots on things. I know, it’s a strange thing for a grown man to say. But I’m an artist and we get to say stuff like that with a straight face. These dots were painted with white gesso right onto the leaves of a plant in my back yard. Out back behind the shed. My painting, my plan, my work turned out ok, but the shadow of the bug-eaten leaves above turned out great. Nature wins. Again.
Shot out back behind my shed. Woodstock, NY
fig. 29: often, nature’s designs even outshine man’s
I love this one. Something about it. The painting, the photo. It feels peaceful to me. Watercolor on leaf.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 34: bright colors and patterns can deflect attention from the aging process
I hate the beach. It’s boring and sandy and I don’t like swimming in the ocean. How’s that for humbug? I do love doing stuff on the beach though. Making sand balls and drip castles and whatnot. Here’s a scallop shell from the beach at Ocean Beach, Fire Island Watercolor.
Shot on Ocean Beach beach. Ocean Beach, Fire Island, NY
fig. 63: the rare “Sunset scallop� is purported to cure narcolepsy if put under the pillow of the afflicted.
High tide leaves so many interesting things washed up on the beach. Some of them are smelly, many of them are photogenic. Props to the O’Connors, who loaned their house for the family vacation that bore this shot.
Shot on Ridgevale beach, Chatham, MA
fig. 101: skate egg case with O’Connor’s zebratitis.
This was one of the first ones I did. I was trying to paint designs on the leaves that were more conceptually interesting to me and the relationship between the wood of the tree and the leaf it creates seemed kinda interesting. Anyway, I like the way this one turned out. Watercolor on leaf.
Shot in my garden in Woodstock, NY
fig. 4: eastern redbud leaves can camouflage themselves for self-defense
As I’ve mentioned, I’m not a photographer. So when I take a photo that turns out really super pretty, I’m always as surprised as delighted. This is one of those photos. I just love it. Acrylic on river rock.
Shot in the Mink Hollow stream. Woodstock, NY
fig. 13: fantail fungus spreads over the face of a streamside stone.
I love this series. I’ve worked on it for years. I thoroughly enjoy painting these natural objects but it’s not without a sense of guilt sometimes. Some of nature’s creations are just so perfect. As in: can’t be better. And to take those things and muck ‘em up with my own decorations? Harrumph. I guess what I’m trying to say – the confession I somehow feel compelled to make as I write about what I did to this gorgeous and perfect leaf – is just this: I’m sorry. Please excuse my arrogance. (But I hope you like it anyway.)
Shot in my new backyard with my new iPhone 5s. Rhinebeck, NY
fig. 104: Black walnut leaves are more colorful than those of their cousin, the English walnut.
This was my first attempt on a cut flower. Indoors. In a controlled environment. And I loved it. This photo here was actually the runner-up shot of this flower until a year later when I was making prints for an exhibition and decided for some reason that this one might make a more dramatic print than the other one. The print turned out stunning and sold right away, which is, how shall I say, motivating? Yes.
Shot on my dining room table. Rhinebeck, NY
fig. 99: a fresh bloom of the “exploding rainbow” flower.
I was in Paris. France. And, like many major European and American cities, they have a lot of London Plane trees around. All of them dropping little or big flakes of bark from their trunks. Well, flakes of bark look like something to paint on to me. And so I did. This piece and those on the next page were taken on Boulevard St. Germain with my friend Pete’s camera. That’s why they’re slightly differently shaped than the rest of my pics. Watercolor on Plane tree bark.
Shot on the Boulevard St. Germain. Paris, France
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fig. 81: spectrumcirculitis on a London plane tree outside Paris’ Faculte de Medecine
More from Paris. Watercolor on Plane tree bark.
Shot on the Boulevard St. Germain, Paris France 2012
Most of these beautiful bits of nature are found on the lawn or in the woods, but this one was found on the asphalt walk near the municipal tennis courts in Rhinebeck, NY and that’s where I shot it. It’s interesting to see what a difference a background can make. This one feels gritty and dirty and real and I kinda like the counterpoint it provides to the relatively ornate gold and colorful painting.
Shot near the tennis courts. Rhinebeck, NY
fig. 121: down near the playground, a yellow poplar, or ‘tuliptree’ drops its magnificent fruit.
This was my second attempt on a cut flower. Done during winter months on the coolest looking plant in the flower shop: brassica. It’s also known as cabbage plant and I bought it from Jarita’s right there in Woodstock which shares a space with a clothing store whose name means “honey” in Hebrew and hence the fictional name of my creation: brassica mel mellis (“Mel” means honey in some language. Latin?)
Shot on my dining room floor. Lake Hill, NY
fig. 100: brassica mel mellis produces a sweet nectar on the edges of its leaves
Artist’s statement “Chaos is the order of nature and order is the nature of man.” “A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down.”
I strive to create art that is both beautiful and meaningful, art that is aesthetically and intellectually accessible and deals with important themes. This current body of work is on a theme that has informed a great deal of my work over the past couple of decades -mankind’s complicated and vast relationship with nature.
We use nature how we see fit: we strive to bring order to it, we seek to explain it in a language that doesn’t belong to it, we try to make it prettier, we try to make it better, we try to make it more profitable. Some efforts succeed, some don’t. This series, “Decorating nature” is about all that and is also all about beauty.
Beauty is the best friend of consideration. If a photo is pretty, a viewer will spend more time with it. If a viewer spends more time with it, they will begin to think beyond the surface of it and into the meaning of it. That’s the dynamic I hope to create in viewers of my work. Lastly and maybe most importantly, this body of work is meant to be fun.
Above: A photo from an exhibition at Van Brunt Gallery in Beacon, NY.
Above: A window installation at imogen holloway gallery in Saugerties, NY.
From “Nature, Inc.� at the Rockland Center for the Arts (RoCA) in March, 2015. (In the foreground, artworks by Laura Moriarty.)
The artist giving a talk about his work at the “Nature, Inc.� exhibition.
Before and after. Most of the pieces in this series were done with watercolor paints which dissolve back into the environment along with the leaves with were painted on.
Above: A view of the tree in the rain and in the beginnings of the deluge that eventually swept it away
About the artist
Norm Magnusson is an internationally recognized fine artist. He has exhibited all over the world and is in numerous private, corporate, and museum collections, including NY’s MoMA. He is the recipient of numerous grants and awards and his art has been written about everywhere from the New York Times and the Washington Post to The New Yorker, and from Sculpture Magazine to Modern Painters. This “Decorating nature” series went viral on the internet in 2010, being written about on dozens of websites and hundreds of blogs. He has taught art to both under-privileged and over-privileged children, is the author of numerous children’s and young adult books and father to 3 kids of his own, who he loves much more than you can imagine.
Individually made archival computer prints of these artworks are available on 100% recycled paper at GreenNaturePrints.com.