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olive trees

n. (olive tree English)

Wikipedia
Olive Trees (Van Gogh series)

Vincent van Gogh painted at least 18 paintings of olive trees, mostly in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in 1889. At his own request, he lived at an asylum there from May 1889 through May 1890 painting the gardens of the asylum and, when he had permission to venture outside its walls, nearby olive trees, cypresses and wheat fields.

One painting, Olive Trees in a Mountainous Landscape, was a complement to The Starry Night.

The olive tree paintings had special significance for Van Gogh. A group in May 1889 represented life, the divine and the cycle of life while those from November 1889 arose out of Van Gogh's attempt to symbolize his feelings about Christ in Gethsemane. His paintings of olive pickers demonstrate the relationship between man and nature by depicting one of the cycles of life, harvesting or death. It is also an example of how individuals, through interaction with nature, can connect with the divine.

Van Gogh found respite and relief in interaction with nature. When the series of olive tree paintings was made in 1889 Van Gogh was subject to illness and emotional turmoil, yet the paintings are among his finest works.

Usage examples of "olive trees".

Beyond the yard he saw the fertile fields, the fruit-laden olive trees, and the windmills turning and creaking peacefully.

When he saw it lying there among the olive trees and cypresses, his heart growled.

She had not paid her father for teaching her to prune olive trees, or P'er Otho to read tombstones.

Then his mother emerged from under the ancient flowering olive trees.

His stomach tightened, breath coming a little quicker as cut twigs from the twisted olive trees fell on his helmet and the shoulders of his uniform.

He glances at the tall man in the black vest who is slipping back toward the olive trees.

Riding past the olive trees, I wondered how many of the groves belonged to Hensil, the trader who had commissioned the chair set.

I held Maggie's hand as we walked through the grove of ancient olive trees and out into the clearing near the oil press where we camped.

There was little beauty, either, in the raken that ran awkwardly down the field beating ribbed wings, fliers crouching in the saddle as if to pull the beast up by main force, ran on until at last they stumbled into the air, wingtips barely clearing the tops of the olive trees at the end of the field.

If somebody cut down the olive trees and vineyards for firewood, which they probably would, that would be three generations of patient labor gone in an afternoon.