Of Forests and scultpure

How do you interpret a forest?

There are a lot of places that fill their brochure holders with handouts for their visitors. They are filled with great info- how many trees there are and what types. The history of the forest. The plans for future growth. Warnings about bears and poison ivy. Thumbnail photos of unique plants and insects that you may see whilst trekking the trails. They more often than not end up on the forest floor or stuffed in a tree notch. After the first glande, hikers don't look at them.

Other forests pin maps under heavy gauge plastic with trails clearly marked in amongst the isothermic lines of the topograph in a trail head lean to. Flyers with warnings and announcements of the natural variety are pinned around it, urging would be hikers to spend time in the shelter, trying to memorize all the information, rather than absorbing it on their way.

The most engaging interpretation I’ve ever found in a forest, though, is the sculpture trail (natch) in the Forest of Dean on the English/Welsh Border. The trail is clearly marked by posts with bright blue notches and every mile or so there’s a discovery that brilliantly plunges you into the experience of the trail itself. Few words are needed, few wanted, but not only do you experience the sounds and sights of the forest, but you can be swept away by the sculptures for their own sake.

Take “Cathedral”, by Kevin Atheton. You’re walking among tall trees arched above you when suddenly, on a heavy rod between two trees, you come upon a hanging 10 ft x 15 ft stained glass window. It takes your breath away, not only because it’s gorgeous in itself, but because it transcends the forest itself and connects the deep stillness and breaking light with the inspriation of a cathedral, which seeks to do the same.

Or “Melissa’s Swing”, by Peter Appleton. It’s a simple child’s swing hanging from a canopy attached to a high branch. Long strips of metal are attached to the canopy, so that when someone swings, the soft musical sounds of the metal vibrate the air around it. You become tuned to the subtle sounds, and, by extension, you listen to the birdsong and breeze in the trees and even the sound of your feet cracking through the woods.

One of my favorite pieces is “Iron Road” by Keir Smith. Made from 20 railroad ties (or sleepers) laid at regular intervals, just as they would be on a working railroad, they are each carved with haunting images of both nature and industry. The Forest of Dean was once a source of raw materials for the industry that blackened England, and made its huge navy strong before the 20^th century. These ties recall that as they formed an abandoned railway that carried the lumber to the waiting mills.

A giant acorn broken open, a massive chair overlooking the forest, and a hanging crown of fire all have their place and all are self explanatory, opening the hiker’s eyes and mind to the truth that is the Forest of Dean.

It’s a magic place and calls for more experiments of the same sort.