I deeply relate to trees, almost as if they were people. They fascinate me, whether standing alone or in an orgy of entanglement. I constantly document them for my photographic archive. Some are stumbled upon when travelling, some encountered on a daily commute and others I obsessively seek out to help me express current thoughts.
“Paul Robinson makes painting of trees and landscapes and mixes them up with the decorative patterns of wallpaper. The complexity of Robinson’s imagery and overlaying of pattern has been informed by the work of Robert Rauschenberg. Robinson paints a world, which joins Christopher Wool’s fabric paintings with a 1970’s Peter Phillips pop landscape. These images are reminiscence of dream sequences from 1960’s films; a drug trip depicted in solarisation photography where the image recorded is wholly or partially reversed in tone.”
Some days I am the strong tree, nothing can move me.
I am invincible.
Some days I am the old tree that has shed all its leaves.
I am vulnerable.
Some days I am the lone tree stood in solitude.
I am surviving.
Some days I have been overgrown by all that surrounds me. Overwhelmed I suffocate.
Most days I am never the tree that I want to be.