In 2020, my bestie and I did a long weekend road trip to Gladstone to visit my brother & his family. Along the way we’d booked a tour of the Great Barrier Reef leaving from Agnes Waters.
Agnes Waters was just supposed the place we stayed in order to take our tour with maybe a couple of hours for sightseeing, but circumstances conspired to cancel our tour, leaving us with a day of sightseeing there instead.
I’d done a little research for things to see and do in Agnes Waters/1770, and the Paperbark Trail was one that kept coming up. So first thing in the morning, as the sun was still coming up and before we’d even had a coffee, we headed off to the trail.
When we arrived there were a few cars in the carpark but no other visitors we could see, and after a quick scan of the information boards, in we went.
I didn’t have much by way of expectations for the trail. I’m an amateur hiker so mostly I was just focussed on the fact that the trail was short and was hoping that there weren’t too many hills.
What happened when we got in there was - there’s no other way of putting it - a spiritual experience.
The paperbark trees themselves (Melaleuca quinquenervia) were tall - easily fifteen to twenty metres - and clumped together in groups some just a few metres apart. The plants covering the ground came up to waist height in places, and to allow for this the path itself was a mixture of gravel, boardwalk and tree stumps that acted as stepping stones.
The canopy of the forest was not particularly dense, so the morning light streaming through the leaves provided the most magical atmosphere. Butterflies of a variety of shades and hues flitted around our heads, and even the dew-tinged spiderwebs had a fae-like quality.
Our first loop around the trail we took silently, spellbound. Only occasionally did we point out the beautiful things we could see in hushed whispers. When we reached the end of the trail we took one look at one another and said ‘One more loop?’
On the second loop the spell was broken, though the forest itself felt no more sacred. Families with young children had taken the path behind us, the kids racing each other along the boardwalks and giggling as they hopped across the logs.
Rachel and I took some photos and videos, and marvelling out loud at the magic we were experiencing.
Having a wonderful time.
Magical is the only way I can describe the energy I experienced during my time in the paperbark forest. I would later learn about the Japanese practice of ‘forest bathing’ and this is what most closely represents what I felt during and after my time there. It was the feeling of coming out of the ocean on a hot day, or the decompression you feel after you’ve been on vacation for a few days. The way tension seeps out of your muscles in a hot bath, or the release of a giant belly laugh.
I felt relaxed and rejuvenated in a way I hadn’t in a long while - it was enough to fill me up completely.
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I recently discovered the artwork of Natalie Martin, an Australian watercolour artist who also offers online classes. After seeing her work I immediately signed up for her course on layering, and learned enough to level up not only my layering techniques, but also my colour mixing, palette design and artwork planning. Not to mention reigniting my desire to paint the flora and fauna of my homeland.
Natalie recently posted on Instagram some works she’s been doing en plein air - painting outdoors. The colours and styles she used really spoke to me, so after attempting a small replica of her piece, I decided to go for it in a large (for me) format piece. I initially looked online for some photos of eucalyptus forests with interesting trunk and branch formations, but then I remembered the paperbark forest. Going back through my pictures, I found the above photo and thought it might be perfect for a piece.
The only disappointing thing about the Paperbark Trail was that the photos I took didn’t capture the what I felt standing beneath the giant trees and amongst the beautiful green leafy foliage. They didn’t capture the crystal air or sparkling energy. They just didn’t capture the magic.
Enter, watercolour.
‘Paperbark Magic’. © Erin Van Krimpen 2022. Watercolour on Baohong cold press 300GSM paper, 260 x 360mm.
While the texture of the trunks on this piece is not entirely accurate for paperbarks, what you see here is an accurate representation of how I felt in the forest. The Paperbark Magic.
Wherever my art style heads going forward, I know that unexpected colour will play a huge role. The ability to paint a scene in realistic colours and then drop in juicy droplets of the colours I feel when I look at it is truly everything I desire from painting.
I’m also feeling drawn to larger scale works. This is 26 x 36cm (10’ x 14'), so a bit smaller than A3 size, which is the largest size I’ve worked on to date, but I want to make a huge version of this. A version that fits the wall of a house, that takes up space.
I want to make art that people connect with so much that they make it the focal point of a room, that they hang it in their home and admire it every day.
Smaller pieces are lovely, and they certainly have their place. But I sense that for me going forward, they will be the precursor to larger works, the feeling out the edges of a piece, the techniques, the layouts before I take a huge sheet of paper and fill it with pigment.
It may still be some time until I get there. Blocks of paper the size I’d like to start using are $189 for twenty sheets - I might need to sell a few smaller pieces to start funding the large-scale pieces!
A lovely Canadian watercolour artist I’ve connected with on Instagram, Lorraine Simmons, commented on a photo of the early stages of this , saying ‘You’re really coming into your own!’, and with this piece, I really feel like I am. There was confidence in my choices, in my colour mixes, in my layering. The time I felt most nervous was going in for final touches - I knew it only needed small additions of dark colours to add depth, and I know my penchant for doing too much. But even then, once I trusted myself, I knew what it needed, and was able to hold back.
I know that this piece is still quite reminiscent of Natalie’s work, and that I need more refinement to truly make it my own. I wish I’d softened the grasses around the base of the trees, especially the front left. And there are a couple of areas of the sky where my water control wasn’t at its best.
But I love this piece so much. It represents where I want to go as an artist - what you have to look forward to from me.
I hope you like it.
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