Tree Wall Art

Tree wall art is a fairly personal subject for me. I love photographing cities. Buildings, streets and the things people have made are what get my creative juices going. But I live in the forest. My studio is on a lake in Haliburton, Ontario, surrounded by trees, and as I write this, the fall colour outside is beautiful.

That might explain why trees keep turning up in my photographs, even when I travel somewhere with very different things in mind. In Tanzania, I found myself photographing baobabs and other trees again and again. At home, it can be a birch I notice because the leaves have changed. Elsewhere, it might be a bent trunk growing out of what looks like solid rock.

I can't quite put my finger on the attraction. Part of it is their shape. Part of it is how long they live. And part of it, I think, is that we have spent our entire lives around them without always paying much attention.

Why Old Trees Hold My Attention

When I photograph an old tree, I often find myself thinking about what has happened during its lifetime. People have come and gone. Houses have been built, lived in and pulled down. The tree has stayed in the same place, adding another season of growth.

California's Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest makes that thought difficult to shake. Some living bristlecone pines are thousands of years old. They were growing long before the United States existed. I can read that as a fact, but standing among these trees makes the passage of time feel quite different.

It may sound a little sentimental. I still think about it. A tree doesn't know anything about the history we attach to those years, but it has been there through all of it. That changes how I look at a twisted branch or a strip of weathered wood.

The bristlecone pine stump above is a close study of what remains. I photographed it in California's White Mountains, drawn to the folds and sweeping grain. Black and white brings out the bright edges and deep grooves. Even without a crown of branches or a wide view of the forest, there is plenty to look at.

From weathered wood to trees covered in autumn leaves, my tree wall art collection brings together the individual shapes and places that have made me stop with my camera.

For me, the most interesting tree photographs have that particularity. I want to remember this tree, with its uneven branches and its own way of occupying the landscape. It doesn't have to be the oldest, largest or most impressive example of its species.

The Trees That Seem Determined to Survive

A perfectly shaped tree can make a lovely photograph. I am often more interested in the awkward ones. A trunk that bends sharply. Bare upper branches above a patch of leaves. A tree that appears to have found just enough room between rocks to keep growing.

The desert cottonwood below has that appeal. The gold foliage gathers unevenly around a rough trunk, with bare limbs reaching into the sky. I like the imbalance. Keeping the dry ground and low ridge in the picture also matters; they show the setting that belongs to this particular tree.

I cannot tell a tree's full history simply by looking at it. But I can see the form it has taken, and that is enough to make me curious. How did it end up leaning that way? What lets it hold on in such an exposed place?

In the cliffside photograph, the tree reaches out from the rock into a deep blue sky. The crescent moon is small and simple beside all those branches. There is very little else in the frame, which lets the tree's unusual shape do most of the work.

This is one reason a solitary tree can make strong wall art. From across a room, its outline is clear. Up close, the smaller branches and texture give you more to notice. The surrounding space is as much a part of the photograph as the tree itself.

Baobabs and the Feeling of a Place

Even in Africa, with so much else to photograph, I kept coming back to trees. The baobabs fascinated me. Their heavy trunks and enormous spread of branches give them a presence that is hard to pass without stopping.

This baobab in Tarangire National Park, Tanzania, has a broad bare crown above dry grass. The smaller trees behind it help show its scale. I like the subdued colour here: the grass, bark and distant landscape stay close enough in tone that the branching shape remains the first thing I see.

A photograph like this brings a different sense of place into a room than an Ontario birch or a Maine island of pines. That is worth considering when choosing tree wall art. You might be drawn to a landscape because it feels familiar, or because it reminds you of somewhere you have travelled. Either connection can matter more than finding a picture that matches the sofa.

Light Changes the Whole Photograph

Sometimes the tree's shape is what catches me. Sometimes it is a patch of light. The cypress photograph below is built around light reaching the broad bases of the trunks while the spaces behind them remain dark. The hanging moss gives the scene a much finer texture above those heavy forms.

Warm light doesn't have to cover the whole scene. Here, the darker areas give the lit bark somewhere to stand out. I want to retain that difference when working on the photograph, rather than brighten every shadow until the grove loses its depth.

My article on cypress trees in the fall looks more closely at these changes in colour, mist and light. The trees remain interesting through all of them. What changes is the kind of photograph I can make.

At Caddo Lake, sunset gives me another approach. In the photograph below, the cypress trees become dark outlines against an orange horizon. Their individual branches are visible above the water, while the reflections turn into longer, softer shapes beneath them.

These two cypress photographs would create quite different effects on a wall. One is full of close detail, bark and shadow. The other has broad areas of sky and water, with a stronger band of colour. Choosing between them is partly a question of how much visual activity you want in the room.

One Tree or a Whole Forest?

Living among trees makes me aware of both possibilities. I can look closely at one birch, following its pale trunk through the leaves, or look across the water and see a whole shoreline as a pattern. Neither view tells the entire story of the forest.

In the Algonquin photograph below, the orange canopy catches my eye first. Then the slender bare trunks begin to stand out, followed by their reflections. Without those finer lines, it would be a very different picture. Autumn colour gives it warmth, but the arrangement of the trees keeps it interesting.

I return to that relationship between forest and water in my Algonquin Provincial Park photographs. A reflection can extend the colour, while a clear stretch of water leaves some space beside a busy shoreline.

If you are drawn to the feeling of being surrounded by trees, my forest wall art collection includes wider woodland views alongside the smaller details I notice within them.

For a wall, I would think about whether you want to look at an individual tree or feel as though you are looking into a place. A single trunk can be a strong point of attention. A wider forest photograph gives the eye more routes through the scene.

Trees and the Places We Build

My interest in trees isn't as far removed from my urban photography as it might first seem. People plant trees to shade a house, shelter a property from wind or make a street more pleasant to live on. We also use wood to build the homes and towns those trees surround.

I think about that connection when I see a large tree beside an old house. Someone may have planted it knowing that the shade would be more useful to the next generation than to them. Trees become part of how a place is used, remembered and passed on.

The maple and treehouse in Haliburton make that relationship visible. The tree fills most of the photograph. Then you notice the ladder and the small wooden structure tucked into the branches. I don't know who built it, but I don't need that detail to recognise the appeal of having a place up there.

Black and white keeps my attention on the tree's spread and those small signs of human use. For someone with memories of a favourite climbing tree or a cottage garden, this photograph might mean something quite different from a dramatic wilderness view. That personal response is a good place to begin when choosing art.

Choosing Tree Wall Art for Your Home

I would start with the photograph you keep returning to, then consider how it will work in the room. A tree picture can be quiet, colourful, intricate or almost abstract. The word “tree” alone tells you very little about how the finished wall will feel.

Colour or Black and White?

With the Haliburton birch and Algonquin forest, autumn colour is a large part of what drew me to the scene. Those yellows and oranges can add warmth to a living room or a space with pale walls. They can also connect with wood and other warm colours already present.

For the bristlecone stump, I am more interested in the grain and the movement of the wood. In the maple photograph, it is the broad canopy and the little treehouse. Black and white suits those pictures because the shapes and tonal differences hold my attention. It can be gentle or quite forceful, depending on the contrast in the photograph.

A Quiet View or a Strong Focal Point?

If I wanted something restful for a bedroom or reading corner, I would look closely at the Maine island photograph. The pines occupy a small part of the scene, surrounded by water and a soft peach horizon. There is room for the eye to pause.

For a stronger focal point, the bright Algonquin reflections or the gold cottonwood offer more immediate colour. The baobab has a different kind of weight, coming from the shape of the trunk and crown. I would choose according to what I want to see every day, rather than assume that all nature photography has the same calming effect.

Shape, Size and Nearby Artwork

Look at the shape of the photograph as well as the available wall. The wide Algonquin scene follows a shoreline across the frame; a square tree study gathers attention into a more compact space. I would measure the wall and mark out a possible size before deciding, especially above furniture.

Consider viewing distance too. From a sofa across the room, the overall shape and colour will register first. Beside a reading chair, small details in bark or branches can become part of the pleasure. Give an intricate photograph enough room to be seen without crowding it with other busy pieces.

If you are pairing prints, look for a connection in light, colour or form. Two autumn photographs might share a warm palette without showing the same kind of tree. Two black and white studies might work together through their curved lines. They don't need to come from the same country.

What I Want to Bring Indoors

I spend a lot of time looking for photographs in places far from home. Then I come back to Haliburton and find myself looking at the trees again. Right now it is the fall colour. Another day it might be the way a branch stands out against the lake.

That ongoing attention is what I want my tree wall art to carry. A particular tree, in a particular place, worth spending a little more time with.

For more photographs of the landscapes and natural details that hold my attention, take a look through my nature wall art collection.