About the Exhibition
Trees have lived on Earth since long before human life appeared. They have watched over and nurtured us from our very infancy, providing us with the air we breathe, the food we eat, shade to shelter us, material to build our homes, and limbs to fuel technological progress.
Trees are metaphors for our own lives; mirroring our need for protection and foundations, our yearning for freedom and lightness, our desire to grow and disperse, and our will to become unique individuals while remaining part of a far-reaching community of fellow beings.
Yet we persist in cutting down forests, allowing their ancient wisdom to fall on deaf ears. Even if one part of humanity is actively cultivating and protecting woodland, another is engaging in deforestation and destruction.
Proposition is pleased to present Pansentient Arboriculture, a new solo exhibition by artist Sol Bailey Barker which proposes a system of care in which trees and entire forests are considered sentient and aware, having a form of consciousness. This exhibition decodes our relationship with the arboreal world, considering practices such as agroforestry, ecological preservation, and their cultural and spiritual roles of trees. Drawing on the folklore of Albion, the exhibition builds a bridge to the world our ancestors lived in, extending from their knowledge.
This body of work highlights how trees are central to our wellbeing and long-term flourishing. Bailey Barker presents a series of sculptures carved from the trees of Sussex, exploring the tangible and intangible nature of our relationship with trees. Acknowledging the age of the Anthropocene, his practice is rooted in Ancient Futurism, Druidic knowledge, land stewardship, and modern technologies.
Pansentient Arboriculture offers a vision for a harmonious future and a way of life that respects and protects nature. The work responds to the subconscious realm that shapes the collective, cultivating a stronger sense of community with all living entities.
Pansentient Arboriculture will run at Proposition in Bethnal Green from 24th April to 7th June 2025.
#PansentientArboriculture
"Trees stand as living archives, their rings recording history in a language older than words. They hold within them the memory of human civilization and the blueprint for its survival. If forests are the past, they are also the future. Their preservation is not merely an act of conservation, but an act of imagination one that envisions a world where humans and nature coexist in harmony, as they once did. To listen to trees is to listen to time itself." - Sol Bailey Barker, 2025
Visit the Exhibition
Private View, Thursday 24th April, 6.30pm - 8.30pm: rsvp@propositionstudios.com
Free entry, Friday 25th April - Saturday 7th June
Open, Wednesday - Saturday: 12pm - 7pm
279 Cambridge Heath Road, Bethnal Green, London, E2 0EL
Toilets on 1st floor with no wheelchair access
Working across a range of media - wood, metal, and clay - Bailey Barker produces works that are at once intricately detailed and monumental in scale. Through artisanal mastery and ritualistic methodologies, he breathes new life into the materials he carves.
Born out of an in-depth study of ancient civilisations, Bailey Barker’s sculptures evoke universal motifs, exploring the ceremonies that connect human experiences across time and space and laying bare our profound connection to the land.
With a particular interest in the evolution of sacred objects and lost cultures, Bailey Barker’s sculptures - whether monumental or intimate - operate as vessels of memory and echoes of myths, inviting audiences to reconnect with a primal sense of wonder and awe.
Mythology and animism are recurring themes in Bailey Barker’s work, with archetypal symbols such as the Tree of Life and narratives like the Great Flood serving as rich sources of inspiration. Motifs of transformation, survival, and transcendence also permeate his work, reflecting his own near-death experience as a child, during which he spent months in a coma.
Situated within the realm of Ancient Futurism, Bailey Barker explores the fusion of indigenous knowledge and practices with modern technologies, creating new blueprints for environmental sustainability, social justice, and community development.
"Through my work, I want to expose the underlying threads that connect all living things. I invite viewers into a shared space of reverie, where history, spirituality, and matter bring to light our common humanity." - Sol Bailey Barker (2025)
Exhibitions and Collections
Bailey Barker’s work has been exhibited globally, with notable exhibitions including:
Food of War at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Bogotá, Colombia (2019)
Bold Tendencies, London (2020)
Zona Maco, Furiosa, Mexico City (2024)
Berlin Art Week at Mahalla (2024)
Lamb Gallery, Mayfair (2025)
His sculptures are held in numerous private collections across London, Paris, Los Angeles, New York, Bogotá, Mexico City, Munich, Milan, Lima, Athens, Thailand, and Dubai.
Sol Bailey Barker on Pansentient Arboriculture
For millennia, trees have been more than silent witnesses to human history; they have shaped it. From the deep forests of prehistory to the industrial landscapes of the modern world, trees have provided shelter, fuel, medicine, and myth. They are the foundation upon which civilizations were built and remain essential to our survival.
Even now, the remnants of our dependence on trees persist in unexpected ways. Coal, which fueled the Industrial Revolution, is nothing more than fossilized forests from epochs past. The petrol that powers modern transportation is the liquefied remains of ancient trees and plants. From the Bronze Age to the Jet Age, trees whether living or long-dead—have provided the energy for technological advancement.
But at what cost? The forests that once covered much of Europe and beyond have dwindled under the weight of human industry. Where once trees were venerated, now they are felled at an unprecedented rate. The wisdom of past systems, which understood the need for replenishment, must be reclaimed.
Beyond their cultural and historical importance, trees are fundamental to maintaining the ecological balance of our planet. As primary producers of oxygen and natural carbon sinks, they regulate climate, reduce urban heat islands, and provide irreplaceable habitats for countless species. In an era defined by the climate crisis, protecting and expanding our forests has never been more urgent.
In the context of today’s environmental crisis, deforestation is more than just depleting the availability of material, it is contributing to the collective loss of 80 percent of amphibian species, 75 percent of bird species, and 68 percent of the world's mammal species. Humans are responsible for the protection of trees as sanctuaries to all species. The exhibition explores our entangled relationship with trees, how they keep us grounded in the natural world we inhabit, and how they bind us to one another.
A symbiotic relationship with trees
Ancient cultures have long revered trees, embedding them in mythology and spirituality. The Norse envisioned the cosmos as held within the great world tree, Yggdrasil. The Druids worshipped in oak groves, seeing them as places of wisdom and justice. In biblical tradition, the Tree of Life stands at the heart of creation, while in ancient Greece, the rustling leaves of Zeus’s sacred oak at Dodona whispered divine oracles.
In Africa, early humans carried seeds of the baobab, a tree that continues to hold a central place in many African societies. The baobab provides food and shelter to travelers and has become a symbol of resilience. The olive tree, originating in the Levant, spread across the Mediterranean, where its fruit and oil became integral to daily life. Fig trees, first cultivated in Mesopotamia, symbolized sustenance and prosperity as they took root in Greece and beyond.
As humans spread across the globe, so too did their knowledge and the significance of trees. Trees migrated alongside people, adapting to new environments and flourishing in diverse landscapes. This migration of people brought with it a migration of the landscapes they cultivated, as agriculture and forestry moved hand-in-hand with new population settlements across the globe. This centuries-long migration of species was slow, allowing forests to integrate into their environments naturally. Unlike modern deforestation and rapid replanting efforts, this gradual adaptation allowed ecosystems to evolve harmoniously.
This blending of species and ecosystems also reflected the adaptability of trees, which had to adapt to vastly different climates, soils, and ecosystems, showcasing the resilience and versatility of the species.
Yet, the movement of trees across the world is not merely a complex story of ecological adaptation, but also an act of cultural exchange.
The backbone of our civilisation
From the earliest days of human existence, trees have provided the foundation for society. They gave us fire, shelter, tools, and the ability to shape our surroundings. Yew spears dating back 150,000 years reveal how early humans depended on wood for survival. Neolithic longhouses were built with oak beams, while Viking ships and the British naval fleet relied on the durability of timber. The Dover Boat (c.1,800 BCE), the oldest surviving wooden vessel, was crafted from oak bound with yew-wood ropes, demonstrating the ingenuity of early civilisations. In arid regions, communities living in yurts relied on wood for shelter and ate dates for sustenance. Even as humanity entered the metal ages, it was the embers of wood that smelted bronze, then iron, forging the tools and weapons that propelled society. Across all different environments and communities, wood is at the heart of human life.
Yet, history also warns of the consequences of neglecting our relationship with trees. The Epic of Gilgamesh tells of Uruk’s deforestation, a cautionary tale of environmental degradation leading to climate shifts and droughts lessons that remain relevant today.
Ecological diversity and the vital role of trees
Trees are not just passive elements of the landscape; they are dynamic ecosystems that sustain life. A single oak tree can host hundreds of species, from insects to birds to fungi, forming an intricate web of biodiversity. In temperate forests, oaks provide shelter for squirrels, deer, and myriad insect species. Yews, growing in both temperate and tropical climates, support everything from red squirrels to rare mosses and fungi. Deciduous forests (those that are made of trees that shed their leaves annually) for example, support a rich variety of plant and animal life by creating a layered environment where different species thrive in various niches. These interactions illustrate the profound interconnectedness between trees and other species.
Trees also serve as the foundation of numerous ecosystem services that directly benefit humans: they provide oxygen, sequester carbon, prevent soil erosion, and contribute to the water cycle. Trees’ deep roots stabilize the soil, preventing landslides while their canopies capture rainfall, releasing it slowly to replenish groundwater supplies. Forests preserve genetic diversity, safeguarding the evolutionary potential of countless species.
Ancient wisdoms as the basis to create a positive future
The deforestation that has occurred over the past century has led to significant ecological imbalances, threatening not just the trees themselves but the species that rely on them for survival, including humans. Celebrating the wisdom of ecosystems where forests and humans are understood as part of the web of life, not separate from; offers hope for a future where we can all once again thrive alongside the forests.
Over millennia, humans have lived in reciprocity with trees. The practice of coppicing cutting broadleaf trees such as oak, ash, and hazel to encourage regrowth dates back to the Neolithic period. It allowed woodlands to regenerate, ensuring a continuous supply of timber for firewood, construction, and tools. A single hazel tree, left to grow naturally, may live for 200 years but if coppiced, it can thrive for over a thousand. These sustainable techniques once ensured that human expansion did not come at nature’s expense.
Indeed, forests require active management to remain healthy, and continue to grow. Unlike recent rewilding movements that involve planting large numbers of trees without supervision, forest management involves careful stewardship. Without it, existing ecosystems, from plants to animals are undermined.
A Living Legacy
Trees stand as living archives, their rings recording history in a language older than words. They hold within them the memory of human civilization and the blueprint for its survival.
If forests are the past, they are also the future. Their preservation is not merely an act of conservation, but an act of imagination, one that envisions a world where humans and nature coexist in harmony, as they once did.
To listen to trees is to listen to time itself.
Oak
The oak tree, known for its strength, longevity, and deep-rooted resilience. In many countries, it stands as a national symbol of endurance, stability, and cultural heritage.
The Holocene, which is the current geological period of Earth’s history, started approximately 11,700 years ago. As the climate became warmer and sea levels rose, humanity was confronted with periods of intense rain, so they began to build shelters, boats to travel across the water, made of the dense, durable wood of the oak.
Acorns became a staple food for many cultures, from the balanophages ("acorn eaters") of Greece to the indigenous peoples of North America, and its bark has long been valued for its medicinal properties. The bark contains tannins, used for their astringent and anti-inflammatory properties, used to treat wounds, gastrointestinal issues, and infections. Today, it remains a component of some herbal medicines.
Oak bark was used to tan hides and make leather. Its galls which are created by the gall wasp laying eggs in acorns were used to produce ink with which all early manuscripts were written. Oak forests support thriving ecosystems as their expansive canopies provide shelter and support for a wealth of plants and animals. Oak continues to be an incredibly reliable source of sustainable building materials and a source of food for animals.
Forests may seem wild and eternal, but few today are untouched by human hands. For at least 6,000 years, people have shaped woodlands to meet their needs. The Dehesa of Spain, an ancient agroforestry system dating back to 4,100 BCE, is one of the last surviving models of sustainable coexistence. Here, holm oaks grow alongside cultivated crops and grazing animals, creating a landscape that produces firewood, acorns, charcoal, and cork while maintaining biodiversity. This balance between agriculture and forestry sustained communities for thousands of years, an approach that modern environmentalists look to as a blueprint for a regenerative future.
Yew
The ancient and enduring yew tree is a defining feature of British churchyards and cemeteries. Some yews in churchyards are estimated to be over 1,500 years old, predating the churches themselves. These sacred sites were originally pagan places of worship, where the evergreen yew symbolised eternal life and protected the dead. Archaeological excavations have revealed that trees at the heart of these sites were once venerated, encircled by votive offerings and structures. The yew tree has long been revered in mythologies, religions and folklore, particularly in Celtic, Norse and Christian traditions.
The yew’s association with power was not only spiritual, but also practical. Its wood was used to make bows, a tool that had a profound impact on human survival. Some of the earliest evidence of bow use dates back more than 60,000 years, with stone-tipped arrows and organic remains suggesting their role in early hunting practices in Africa. In Europe, a well-preserved bow from Stellmoor, Germany (c. 10,000 BCE), provides insight into the technological advances of the time. Generally, bow-making was a crucial innovation, enabling early humans to hunt efficiently from a distance, securing food while minimising risk to their own lives, paving the way for migration and further adaptation.
Beyond hunting, yew played a role in medicine. Its bark and needles contain taxanes, compounds that today form the basis of chemotherapy drugs. Ancient herbalists, too, recognised the tree’s power, though its toxicity meant it was used with extreme caution. People used yew to take advantage of its qualities of strength and pliability. The Dürrnberg Yew Staff, believed to have been a symbol of authority or ritual significance, dating to the Iron Age, suggests that yew was prized for its durability and flexibility, much as the famous, 400,000 year old Clacton Spear.
Hazel
Hazel has played both a vital role in mythology and everyday life. Revered by the Celts, Norse, and ancient Greeks, the hazel was seen as a tree of wisdom as well as having supernatural powers, with its branches used to ward off evil spirits. Hazel has often been associated with fertility, especially in the context of the spring equinox, symbolizing renewal, growth, and the continuation of life. Its abundance of nuts also made it a symbol of nourishment and plentiful harvests.
The hazel tree also played a role in divination practices. One of the most famous associations is with dowsing or water divination, where hazel rods (often called divining rods) were used to find water or precious metals. The bending of the rod was believed to be a sign of water beneath the earth’s surface. This practice ties into the idea that the hazel holds mystical knowledge.
The versatility of hazel wood, both strong and highly flexible meant that it was used early on to make the walls of houses with wattle and daub, furniture, woven baskets, tools and food. It has provided for centuries a steady supply of versatile wood, as it grows incredibly quickly and can be coppiced every 5-15 years. Using a coppicing system sustainably can extend the life span for up to 2,000 years. Hazel nuts have been a highly nutritious food source for many species over thousands of years. Rich in protein, fats and vitamins, with the ability to be stored for long periods of time.
Sweet Chestnut
The sweet chestnut (Castanea sativa) has long been a tree of nourishment. Sometimes called the ‘bread tree’, it fed communities where wheat could not especially in southern Europe’s mountainous regions. The nuts were ground into flour, baked into flatbreads, and stirred into stews; they stored well through the winter, sustaining entire cultures with their starchy sweetness. In Corsica, chestnut groves were once so vital they were regulated like common lands—tended, harvested, and celebrated.
But chestnut also reminds us of fragility. The American chestnut, once a giant of the eastern US forests and a cornerstone of rural diets, vanished almost entirely in the 20th century due to fungal blight—a living larder turned to ash in a matter of decades. It fed wildlife, livestock, and humans alike; its loss left whole ecosystems nutritionally starved. Its wood, light but durable, was used for fencing, furniture, and building especially prized because of its resistance to rot. Today, in Europe, sweet chestnut is still coppiced for poles, charcoal, and timber.
The chestnut grove offers a layered memory of forest as a pantry, of trees as shared inheritance, and of the vulnerabilities entangled in global trade and ecological imbalance.
Ash
The ash tree carries myth and material in equal measure. In Norse myth it is Yggdrasil, the World Tree. In Britain, its wood has long grounded the practical: strong yet springy, ash was essential for making tool handles, wheels, ladders, walking sticks, and the curved shafts of bows. It bends without cracking, absorbs shock, and carries the memory of movement—an ideal material for axes, oars, and early aircraft frames.
In rural life, ash trees often stood near homes, both for their shade and their firewood. They burn green, a rarity among trees, making them valuable for hearths through damp winters. In some folk traditions, ash leaves were carried for protection; its sap was used in remedies for warts and fever.
Despite its gifts, ash dieback now threatens to reshape entire landscapes, with up to 80% of trees in some regions expected to die. Yet in hedgerows and woodlands, young ash continues to seed and sprout some carrying genetic resistance.
Ash invites us to see the intimate bonds between tool and tree, utility and myth. Even in decline, it holds a place in memory as a maker’s tree, a tree of movement, and a living hinge between past and future.
Willow
Willow lives at the edges of rivers, marshes, and human imagination. Its branches are soft and strong, easily split and woven. For thousands of years, willow has been shaped by human hands: baskets, fish traps, fences, beehives, shelters, even coffins. In Britain and beyond, willow craft is both ancient and evolving still practiced by artists, farmers, and weavers alike.
The bark of the white willow (Salix alba) contains salicin, a precursor to aspirin, giving willow its place in the history of healing. Infusions of its bark were used as painkillers long before laboratory pharmaceuticals, and still are in herbal traditions.
Its roots stabilise riverbanks, and its quick growth makes it a natural fit for living architecture—woven structures that grow and green over time. In flood-prone areas, willow is used in erosion control and habitat restoration.
The willow’s association with grief is echoed in its practical use: in some cultures, it was planted on graves or woven into mourning garlands. But it's very bend and yield also made it a symbol of endurance, a tree that heals, holds, and returns. Willow shows how utility and symbolism intertwine: its wood and wands serve, while its gestures speak graceful, adaptive, and always reaching toward water.
Redwood
The redwood arrived in Britain in the mid-19th century, a time when plant hunters and imperial agents combed the globe, collecting specimens for gardens, glasshouses, and private estates. The British Empire was in full force, its reach vast, its hunger insatiable.
Trees, like people, were uprooted, renamed, and repurposed, extracted from their homelands, severed from indigenous knowledge, and transplanted into a vision of mastery and order.
To plant a redwood in British soil was once an act of colonial display: a towering symbol of dominion over distant lands. But time has passed, and meanings shift. The redwood still stands immense, resilient, and strangely at home.
This tree, which in its native Sierra Nevada grows to be the tallest living organism on Earth, speaks to deep time and planetary connection. Its bark, thick and fire-resistant, holds memory in its rings. Its needles release a tang of resin, healing and antiseptic. Its fallen wood, light yet durable, shelters both creature and craft.
Though not indigenous, the redwood does not colonise. It does not choke or displace. Instead, it adapts quietly, generously. It grows with an ancient patience, offering shade, carbon capture, and awe. In a warming world, its resilience is a gift.
But we must not forget the roots of its journey. Empire was not benign. It scarred ecosystems, enslaved people, and rewrote the stories of land and life. The global movements of species cannot be separated from the violences of colonialism, which saw the Earth not as kin but as commodity.
And yet—amid these broken inheritances diversity has emerged as a strange and potent legacy. The mingling of species, like the mingling of cultures, can be a source of strength. Not all movement is extraction. Not all arrival is invasion. When done with care, migration botanical or human enriches the soil.
The redwood invites us to reckon with complexity. It is a witness to the empire, a survivor of translocation, and a possible companion in the climate-changed futures to come. In its towering calm, it asks: What does it mean to belong? And how might we learn to live with difference, not in dominance, but in mutual care?
Let the redwood be a reminder not of conquest, but of continuity. Not of purity, but of interdependence. A monument not to the empire, but to the possibility of rooted, radical repair.
The Forest Within Us
Beneath bark and leaf, a deeper truth takes root: trees are not just part of the landscape we are part of theirs. The oak shelters our myths, the yew guards our dead, the chestnut feeds us, the ash arms us, and the willow weeps with our sorrow and our joy. Their rings mark our history as surely as our own memories.
Each species, in its own voice, speaks to a different facet of being: endurance, transformation, generosity, resilience, grace. They are the silent witnesses to our rise, our ruin, and our rebirth. In their shade, we’ve told stories. With their bodies, we’ve built homes, boats, tools, and instruments. From their fruits and bark, we’ve found nourishment and healing. To walk among trees is to walk through time through ancestral memory, through ancient exchange between species, through the quiet, ongoing work of living in balance. In a world that often forgets to listen, trees remind us to grow slowly, to root deeply, to give without demand.
And yet their story doesn’t end in the past. In visions of the future whether urban forests purifying city air, bioengineered groves seeding life on distant planets, or sentient arboreal networks weaving together ecology and technology trees remain essential. They are the scaffolding of our survival, not only as climate regulators and oxygen-makers, but as teachers in how to live with humility and reciprocity. To preserve them is not merely conservation, it is collaboration. A promise to carry their wisdom forward. This exhibition invites you not only to look at trees but to feel their presence, to remember our shared past, and to imagine a future in which their flourishing ensures our own. The forest is not outside us. The forest is home.
www.solbaileybarker.com // @solbaileybarker // #PansentientArboriculture