Oak Tree Linocut Print | Limited Edition | 17x20 inch
‘Big Long Oak’ Limited Edition Linocut Print — Winter Canopy
This black and white limited edition linocut print captures the towering canopy of a magnificent northern red oak in winter, viewed from below as its bare branches reach outward into the sky. Surrounded by neighboring hardwoods, the intricate network of limbs creates a striking web of light and shadow, celebrating the quiet architecture of deciduous forests after the leaves have fallen. Bold contrasts of hand-printed ink and paper give the piece a timeless, contemplative quality—perfect for nature-inspired homes, woodland decor, Appalachian aesthetics, and collectors of fine relief prints.
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The design was hand-carved from a single linoleum block over the course of approximately 64 hours, allowing every branch and fine detail to emerge through careful, deliberate carving. Each print is individually inked and printed by hand in a limited edition of only 30 impressions.
The printed image measures approximately 12 × 18 inches and is hand printed on beautiful 17 × 20 inch Awagami Hosho paper, a premium Japanese paper prized for its strength, subtle texture, and exceptional printmaking qualities.
Because every print is pulled by hand, each impression is unique and perfectly imperfect. Relief printing embraces subtle variations in ink coverage and pressure, making every piece one of a kind while preserving the character and craftsmanship of the traditional printmaking process.
To see my printmaking process and upcoming work, please visit my Instagram page @bloodroot.ecology
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This image is deeply personal. My son named this tree when he was five years old.
“Big Long Oak.”
It was a towering northern red oak with a trunk nearly four feet in diameter—likely the largest and oldest tree in our neighborhood. It stood over our home for generations, anchoring the landscape and providing shade, shelter, and a sense of permanence.
After Hurricane Helene hit our western North Carolina community, the tree began leaning toward our house and our neighbors’ homes. We were heartbroken to have it removed, but there wasn’t a safe alternative. Rather than cutting it completely to the ground, we left a thirty-foot snag standing for the woodpeckers, owls, insects, and countless other small lives that still depend on it. It felt important to let part of the tree keep living.
Instead of depicting the tree as it appeared from the ground, I chose the perspective I remember most vividly—standing beneath it and looking upward. In winter, without leaves to obscure its form, every branch revealed decades of slow growth and resilience. The surrounding trees frame the composition, emphasizing both the immense scale of Big Long Oak and its place within the larger forest community.