September Studio Letter ～ Tree Songs & Echoes from the Creuse Valley, France
This month, my partner and I were able to spend a few days in Creuse (France) to recharge our batteries before the cold season. It was wonderful as this rural region is so beautiful, with nature and animals everywhere. Those days with the land inspired me so much, and I channeled the beginning of a new series about trees, in the continuum of "The Keeper of Memories" (read the August Studio Letter).
⊹ a gathering of recent moments ⊹
Sleepless night under the full moon in Pisces, where I spent the end of the night outside, wrapped in a quilt, listening to the sounds of the dark, which the dazzling light of the moon only deepened with shadows and echoes.
I swallowed the sky that night, and the shooting stars, the owls, the herons, the crickets, the mice rustling in the leaves, the dogs protecting their family, they all nourished me in a way both abundant and pure.
At dawn, before the sun had even touched the horizon, the roosters began to sing, followed by the first lowing of cows, the farewell of the owl, and the early birdsong of the local fauna. Then the light of the sun warmed the whole landscape, which wept mists of humidity above the canopy of the hill’s trees.
You cannot feel alone when you are part of the Great Whole. I carry this precious lullaby, devoured on that night, deep within me, to sing it back to myself each time the rhythm of this atrophied and uncertain society rustles too fast and too loud, until it numbs me senseless.
This month's photo dump features moments at home in my garden, in Creuse (France) at the Château de Boussac, during my hikes in the region, and at the Musée des Peintres de Crozant.
⊹ spellbound by Dom Robert’s tapestries 𓇗 folk art alive with sacred resonance ⊹
I discovered Dom Robert's incredible work during a visit to the memorable Château de Boussac, with its inspiring rooms filled with antique objects. The castel also offers visitors the chance to admire some of Dom Robert's most beautiful tapestries. We spent part of the day there, and I left feeling completely transported to another world. Here are some photos, which unfortunately don't do justice to the beauty of the colors and compositions of the weavings.
Let me know if you knew this artist before, and if you would like to see more photos, I might write something dedicated to his inspiring art.
⊹ SHOP UPDATE: EARLY NOVEMBER! ⊹
The 𓇬 Collectors Catalog 𓇬 will be shared in the October Studio Letter. Inside, you will find a preview of the original works that will be released on the e-shop in early November, including four unique stretched patchworks and four limited-edition stickers.
No prints will be made from this batch: these paintings are true originals, available only once. Newsletter readers will receive the catalog first, along with two days of early access before the public launch.
This update is dear to my heart, as the funds raised will allow me to invest in professional photography and make future prints possible, so that more people can live with art in their everyday lives.
⊹ A glimpse into the seeds and sketches of my days ⊹
⊹ trees whisper us a story of climate change ⊹
Trigger Warning: Eco-Anxiety
The tree series continues, this time carried by my passage through the Creuse. There, I was struck by a wave of anxiety at the sight of trees weakened, scarred by drought and the heatwaves that return year after year. This is not Fall, though some might mistake it for that. The trees are not adorned with their rusty, red, or golden hues. Here, the leaves do not sing the end of a natural cycle: they wither, browned, scorched, brittle at the slightest touch, crumbling into dust at the passing of a hand.
It was this landscape, more than any conscious thought, that compelled me to draw the tree of ‘La Veillée’, perhaps the first of a series, as a witness to our time. An emblem of climate change, whose very presence stands as irrefutable proof.
During periods of extreme heat, trees close the pores of their leaves to slow down transpiration and conserve what little water remains in their hearts. And so, in the middle of Summer, we encounter these half-living silhouettes: one part green, still resilient, the other already consumed by dryness. At times, the entire canopy withers, sacrificing itself to keep the rest alive.
But this survival mechanism comes at a cost. Deprived of their leaves, trees can no longer create their vital force through photosynthesis. They cannot store the reserves that would carry them through the seasons. If this event were only an isolated accident, they would recover. But the tragedy is that every summer now returns hotter, drier, often suffocating with heat. Forests burn, rivers run dry, and trees grow weaker with each passing year. They become vulnerable to diseases, slowly decaying, and we watch our beloved forests disappear in front of our eyes.
With them, a sacred cycle is broken: carbon dioxide is no longer absorbed, oxygen is no longer released. Trees cease to fulfill one of their most essential missions, further aggravating the root of our intersectional + interspecies problem, and diminishing our hope. Fruits and seeds fail, air is lacking, hunger and thirst ripple outward through the vast web of interdependent life.
Amid these landscapes, I felt as if I were contemplating a network of ghost trees, a vision suspended between silent death and the waiting of the Fall Equinox, when the true colors of the natural cycle will finally transform the still-green ones.
⊹ STUDIO LETTERS: Last soulful sharings ⊹
⊹ warmed by my visit at the Aubusson Tapestry Museum ⊹
Recently, the Aubusson Museum has been collaborating with Studio Ghibli to create huge tapestries based on some of my favorite movies (it was a joy to discover the theme of the exhibition when we arrived).
Magic Portal Double Rainbow, and pink sunset on the evening of the Equinox.
In the Northern Hemisphere, we have officially walked through the magical portal of the Dark Season, supported by the New Moon + Solar Eclipse in Virgo during the Fall Equinox.
See you in October for the next Studio Letter! Until then, thank you for being here and for walking this journey with me.
With Warmth,
All words and images © Julie Austin, unless otherwise noted.
Please do not copy, or use them without permission.
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