Artists in northern Michigan are known for landscape paintings: Green hills plunging into blue water, sunsets over Lake Michigan.
But Nik Burkhart’s landscapes are a little different than most.
His black and white paintings depict ripped out, cut down cherry orchards and ask questions about the region’s changing landscape.
Today, he’s scouting for potential inspiration at Gallagher Farms near Traverse City.
“I try not to be just the dead tree guy,” Burkhart says, snapping a photo of the treeline. “But I see dead trees, and I'm drawn to thinking about the life cycle of those trees.”
Just below the treeline, grower Jordan Gallagher points out a big field of alfalfa where there used to be cherry trees. He grew up here and still farms here.
But the rolling hills have changed.
“We waited and waited because we knew it was a drastic decision to pull trees out,” he said. “It's been years of bad that caused us to jerk them out. It's not what we wanted to do, but we're kind of embracing reality here and moving ahead, and I'm optimistic about the other stuff we're doing.”
Other stuff like hosting weddings, growing totally different fruit trees, plus putting in a distillery.
With cheaper imports and a changing economy, some cherry growers are completely leaving the industry while others find different ways to stay afloat.
Artist Nik Burkhart is trying to capture that change — the good, the bad and the ugly — with his orchard series.
“What got me into this whole series was driving by an orchard north of Leland and seeing that it was all chopped down,” Burkhart said. “That was such a stark contrast to what I had been seeing.”
See Nik Burkhart's art on his website, on Instagram or in person at The V Gallery in Omena.
Burkhart was raised on a farm in the Petoskey area, and moved to Leelanau County during the pandemic after spending several years in Chicago.
“A lot of the sense of grief and loss and trauma that I think we all collectively experienced during that particular season — I think seeing those cut down orchards really felt like a stand in for a larger conversation that we'd all all been a part of and had lived through,” he said.
So Burkhart’s black and white landscapes are somber and a little eerie.
One wide panorama painting shows dozens of cherry tree stumps in a snow-covered field.
“When I first saw the cherry trees chopped down, my first instinct was to mourn that, to feel the loss of that,” he said.
But after scoping out orchards and talking with farmers, Burkhart says he realized the picture was more nuanced.
The business of cherries is changing – sometimes that means ripping out orchards.
But it also means more diverse crops, U-Pick orchards, farm stands and new methods of farming — all solutions for keeping farmland mostly undeveloped but still profitable.
“I've done a number where the trees have been chopped down and then will sucker out or regrow,” Burkhart said. “It's sort of having this sense of rebirth or resilience.”
One painting called “And Again” zooms in on a skinny little cherry tree that’s sprouting up from the side of a stump.
In another, Burkhart captured bee boxes strategically placed near cherry trees, where a grower is trying to harvest honey in addition to fruit.
Burkhart says that instance spurred questions about imports to northern Michigan, like European honeybees and cherry trees themselves.
“A lot of what I see as an artist is finding images that touch on larger questions of, ‘How did we get here?’ he said. “Just finding those resonances is satisfying in a way that I learn more about my own history and the world.”
Despite new ventures at Gallagher Farms, there are still plenty of cherry trees left.
One small orchard stands near the house Jordan Gallagher grew up in; he guesses it was planted shortly before he was born.
And he points out certain trees almost like siblings – begrudgingly, but with love.
“Oh, see how that's got grass growing out of the trunk, and how it's all sideways? You can barely get a shaker on it. It's crooked,” he said. “But we just keep it. It's just like the corner post of this orchard right here.”
Nik Burkhart quietly takes photos. He talks about the trees less like family and more like people he’s meeting for the first time.
“Each of these trees has its own story and history in the same way that we also have our own story and history, and it's all contained in their body,” he said. “You see different areas where the bark is missing, or limbs have been cut. … I find that I connect with that on a human level.”
As they leave the orchard, Gallagher asks Burkhart if he’d be open to painting something for the new distillery that’s going up.
Cherry trees are giving way to cherry brandy, and Burkhart’s work captures all the lumps, bumps, burls and new sprouts growing out of that transition.
