STEPHEN: Heart rot in pine began, like all my writing, in my notes app after a long, dark Google rabbit hole venture about what it takes to kill a tree. The idea that something so grand could succumb to a fungal disease gripped me. The part that stuck with me was that heart rot doesn’t necessarily kill, it simply decays the centre of the trunk enough so that it becomes unstable and able to be broken. Heart rot doesn’t kill, it just invites harm in.
Working with Joe to bring Heart rot in pine to life was a uniquely fun experience. Having been friends for almost ten years, our rapport made each step feel more personal, as we were able to speak forthcomingly and voice our opinions without fear of stepping on another’s creative toes. I think that the incredibly personal nature of the piece was maintained as everyone who interacted with it along its development was someone with whom I’ve had an ongoing relationship, and that is really special.
JOSEPH: But the most challenging process of this piece was, ironically, the translation of poetry to visuals. As many of the stanzas deal with abstract concepts, finding distinct symbols that both stood out on their own while maintaining a faithful connection to the original lines became a careful balancing act.
In several instances, we chose to utilise universal images that easily translated some of the ideas of the piece: A bird fighting against its cage, a swaying mastic tree. But on several occasions, when the poem itself explored disembodied or entirely internalised struggles, it opened up the opportunity for visual metaphor.
STEPHEN: It was always exciting to see what words Joe plucked out and honed in on in his animation, especially as when I publish my poetry on my website or social media, I insert a few of my favourite words or a line in the caption. This seemed like the most appropriate mirroring and expansion on that as the poem’s basis for progress is literally interacting with certain words or phrases.
JOSEPH: We wanted the words to have a place of their own, too. If every stanza were coupled with an animation, then the visuals would overpower the words. But by providing brief spans of stanzas on their own, we hoped to maintain the balance. It also gives our readers pause – a moment for self-reflection.
STEPHEN: Which, to me, as a writer, is integral. I know that the words I write can only do so much heavy lifting in a relatively long-form piece, so it was really vital to know that there was an equilibrium between visual and textual elements. And I also find it exciting that Heart rot in pine is itself toeing the line of being a whole narrative, as it’s more than just a poem or just an animation.
JOSEPH: Heart rot in pine is so uniquely introspective, we believed it was necessary for the audience to harmonise with just the poem at times. To introspect themselves and to recognise the struggle of the speaker – something that only words can do.
STEPHEN: I honestly thought that the poem would not lend itself to accompanying imagery, like what Joe said about the abstract nature of some stanzas, the poem thrives off of a lack of clarity. However, seeing the unique way Joe cultivated such a clear sense of direction in his animation was satisfying, and put to bed any worries of animation that would exist merely on the same page, not intertwined with, my words.
JOSEPH: A recurring image throughout Heart rot in pine’s animations are hands and what they hold. This serves as a potent symbol for both self-reflection – the speaker literally looking down at themselves – but also for inheritance. Geometric shapes with abstract patterns represent any family heirloom, whether that be genetic or physical. In one instance, the heirloom fades in and out, representing the tentative happiness some generations have, while others are cursed to miss out on.
Ultimately, Heart rot in pine only came together as effortlessly as it did because of our long-standing friendship, and our personal abilities to conceive of art differently, allowing for the writing and animation to come together in a genuinely unpredictable way.
This piece belongs to ‘Collab Stories’, a series of commissions where artists of different media were paired and encouraged to create through freeplay and conversation. Explore the rest of our Collab Stories here!

