Bark Process
Bark is a particularly beautiful material. Freshly cut, it handles like leather and has rich textures and colours. It can be harvested only once a year, a short window of time in spring when the sap’s rising.
I cut sweet chestnut and willow sustainably in the woods near where I live in Sussex. Wandering the woods for a while til I find just the right limb, so that I have minimal impact on the trees. I make offerings before cutting: a gesture of reciprocity.
Removing the bark, there’s a gentle ‘pop’ as it comes away. I lick the bare wood, and taste the sweet sap. My fingers and nails become stained by the tannins in the bark, and by the end of the day my hands and forearms have the familiar ache from repetitive working.
The natural growth twists and variations in thickness mean the bark dries in unpredictable ways. A bark container looks and feels like a hollow tree in your hands. I celebrate the pure barky-ness of the material.
I use many other wild plant fibres: responding to the seasonal variations, a dialogue between hands and plants. Read more about my process of foraging plants.
Harvesting sweet chestnut bark in spring.
Sometimes I use the bark fresh, working with its natural curvature. Often it has lichen or other interesting marks and features.
Sometimes removing the epidermis…
Storing the bark. It smells beautiful, musty, reminiscent of a dirt-floored timber-framed barn from long ago.
The natural vibrancy and rich texture of bark.
Each piece unique, each connected directly to the land. Echoes of ancient processes.
.