The Hawthorn has been in full flower for the past few weeks and I have been determined to capture this mythic tree at its very best. It's one of those subjects that feels urgent — you know it won't last, so there's a kind of pressure to it that I actually enjoy
The old name for this shrub is the May tree, or May blossom, because it flowers right on the turning point between spring and summer. Up here in the Pennines blossom arrives in waves, white and pale pink all along the hedgerows, and on an early spring morning walk it stops you in your tracks.
These paintings are very different from my usual work. I've been keeping things looser — less detailed, more about movement and feeling than getting every branch right. I think the hawthorn almost forces that. The tree itself is all jagged, windswept shapes, dark and gnarled, and then suddenly this mass of small, soft flowers all over it
If you try to paint the hawthorn too carefully it loses the very thing that makes it interesting. I have been rising very early for these trips to capture Hawthorn at its best - I think the early starts are paying off
A New Way Of Working
For this series of paintings I have been working dark to light, which suits oil paint well. I work on building up the branch structure first — deep greens, near-blacks — and then add whites and creams on top, some of it wet into wet, some dragged dry over the textured canvas underneath using a stipple effect. The texture that comes from that feels right for the subject. It gives the blossom some physical movement rather than just sitting static on a smooth flat surface.
The green tones and hues around the hawthorn have been interesting to work with too. My go-to colour for the shadow and dappled light areas is Michael Harding's #229 Caribbean Turquoise
Cool Blues & Greens
The Pennines in May are not just one tone of green — new grass in full sun is almost yellow, and then shadow areas lean into cool blues. I've been using those cooler tones more than I normally would, creating different mixes of blues, including my current favourite caribbean turquiose to capture the way shadow and reflected light sit in-between the darker areas.
Folklore & Superstition
Hawthorn is one of the oldest symbols of spring in this country — it's where the Maypole tradition comes from, the May Day garlands, the flower crown of the Fairy Queen and the Green Man's wreath. It carries this real sense of wildness, fertility and rebirth. And yet there's always been a warning attached to it too: you should never bring it into the house. Part of that is an ancient superstition, but part of it is that the flowers have an odd smell up close — sweet almost honey like mixed with a sour odour.
A Dark History
In the Middle Ages people linked this smell to the plague, due to a chemical produced by the tree which has the same smell as a toxin present in rotting flesh. People would be reprimanded for bringing it indoors. It's a strange thing to be painting something so beautiful with that underlying dark connection to the history of the terrible plague
Hawthorn Through The Seasons
I plan to capture hawthorn through the year — into autumn berries, and winter thorns. But right now it's the May blossom I'm after, and I don't think I'm done with it yet. There are mornings up on the tops when the light catches the Blossom and the whole hillside looks like it's covered in snow, and that's when I really feel like I've found something worth working on. I can't wait to show you my progress over the coming months
The Future Of Our Moorland
There is something else weighing on my mind as I paint these trees. The moorland near where I live has been suffering from wildfires — some of the worst in recent memory — and watching the news with that creeping dread of seeing landscapes I know and love reduced to ash is not something I find easy to sit with. The hawthorn, ancient and tenacious as it is, is not immune. These trees that have stood for centuries along the Pennine edges, that have survived storms and hard winters and the encroachment of farming, are genuinely at risk if we do not take their protection seriously. It feels strange to be painting something so alive and full of blossom whilst holding that quiet worry at the back of my mind. But perhaps that is part of it — the urgency I mentioned at the start. Beauty is not permanent. It needs looking after.
My upcoming exhibition of Hawthorn Paintings 'The Dawn of Summer' opens October 10-24th At Pennine Gallery, Woodend Artists Studios, Mossley OL5 9RR
