Landscape changes constantly. Mostly not to the better, at least that is what’s happening where I live. It is the fate of old big trees to die eventually or to be cut by humans as it pleases them or they see reason to do so. Most of the trees that constitute the ever downgrading qualities of our landscape have been planted in the old times, mostly before world war II and earlier. In general these trees are misfits or displaced beings in conflict with the modern use of land for agriculture, traffic or outdoor sports.
One of the big, old distinctive landscape forming trees in a small valley has been cut by the owner, just another loss happening unnoticed. A couple of weeks ago there was a public panel discussion in town on a landscape concept. As far as I understand mainly about ways how to market the existing thing called landscape to potential visitors and tourist as an aesthetic and cultural highlight.
Somehow this is like watching two trains departing in opposite directions. The beauty of landscape seems to these people something that happens or exists without particular effort, it is the inevitable result of what happens anyway, the use of land.
However the beauty of landscape does not come that way and if it is incidentally still there it cannot be preserved by just going on with progress as usual.
In the meantime it is the dubious pleasure of the likes of me to draw the very few remaining lovely spots before they are gone.
The season is changing from summer to autumn. Temperatures dropped considerably over the weekend. The silhouettes of tress looked almost black against the light of pale sun rays breaking through the grey sky here and there.
The witch tower at the very West of the fortifications at the Cistercian abbaye Maulbronn was built 1441. There is no documentation for the origin of naming the tower “witch tower”.
It is a five-story building in big, impressive sandstone masonry. I placed my tripod chair in the old cemetery, a lovely place with cypress hedges and Robinia trees cut in balloon form.
Chances are good that this ink drawing shows my final destination.
About half a mile from here the local gambling shop was robbed on a sunny Sunday morning. The railroad runs behind a curtain of trees not far away as the road, busy with cars and lorries. There is the permanent sough of wheels on asphalt and steel in the air. The cows are hidden from my view, but I see their traces in the branches of trees and bushes pruned as far as the mouth can reach. It been like this for decades now.
Plum tree trunk,ink on paper
I seem never to get tired of looking at trees. There is a remote place about 20 minutes walk from my home amidst the fields and meadows were some plum trees grow unattended, just not cut yet by the farmers who plow through the root area, damage the branches and don’t care in many ways. The fruits are for the animals. This year the plums are still green in August. Hidden from the eyes of walkers and motorists I draw the neglected,weathered plum tree trunk, perhaps they are gone next year.
Landscape garden Bad Muskau,ink drawing in leporello sketch book,(Pentel brush pen)
Fürst Pückler (1786-1871) is one of the most peculiar persons I have ever heard about. I still need to read his famous memoir, but I already studied a bit of his remarks on landscape gardens. Landscape gardening was the ultimate obsession of the man who spent his fortune on two landscape gardens, the park Branitz near Cottbus and the other at Bad Muskau.
Pückler even traveled to England to find a second wife who could finance his garden projects,but this project failed.