A full life is a layered thing. Our lives are built up, layer by layer around our core selves. Belief systems, memories, and opinions define who we are and how we see ourselves over a lifetime. But underneath these layers, what remains?

As an artist and a person finding themselves in the later part of life, it has become essential to reevaluate and prioritize how I move through the world. Peeling back layers, looking for that original sense of self has become an important part of my daily practice.

Walking to my studio each day, I pass a line of London Plane trees, mature, sturdy, beautiful. The first thing to catch my eye was the trunk’s striking camouflage pattern; various greens to browns that change with the weather. When wet, the greens become vibrant and when dry more subtle hues come through. On closer observation, I saw that the trunks had a sensuous quality. Soft, undulating movement as the tree rises upwards.

Recently, I noticed with some shock, that they shed their bark in swaths. After some research I found that these trees are extremely efficient in removing pollutants from the air. Surprisingly, London Plane trees can grow between 13 and 24 inches in a year. This rapid growth is the cause of the peeling bark since it is unable to expand as quickly as the tree is growing. It’s also believed that the tree protects itself with growth by shedding any parasites that might invade.

I resonate with this fascinating process. How do I shed preconceived constructs to make room for growth? How does this practice expose my vulnerabilities and also protect me from harmful ideas that may set in?

In an effort to answer these questions, I turned to nature’s wisdom. This photographic series combines the cast-off bark of the London Plane trees, with manipulated images of myself, connecting my personal exploration with the natural world.