Korean Hornbeam workshop with bonsai master John Romano

This month, I am showing a video my wife, Sarah Whitaker, made during a workshop with John Romano. John is famous for his shohin, but is expert in all bonsai techniques and styles. He is also a wonderful person and teacher. The tree is a Korean Hornbeam that I got as a prebonsai 2 years ago. At the time of the workshop, I had roughed out the styling of the excellent raw material, root pruned and potted the tree.

The Hornbeam when I first got it in 2011

 It was time for the next step up in its bonsai life - a style refinement that could be built upon in the subsequent years. I also needed help in solving the tree's few peculiarities; all trees have them, if not all the same kind. The tree was at the bud development stage and very fragile. It was unpleasantly easy to knock buds off by merely touching them. So, the work had to be very careful and delicate. I still lost some important buds, however. The video is a bit over 20 minutes long, but it is compressed from hours of work and thought. I hope you get as many ideas from John as I did.

Horribile Dictu!

Yes, this has been the hottest summer on record in Connecticut. And, yes, it is horrible to say, and horrible for bonsai. There will be no pictures in this post. Nobody should see what is going on with some of the trees. Thankfully, none of my trees have been permanently damaged, because I have been shuffling them back and forth from blistering sun to dappled high shade, and watering well. At least, I hope none have been permanently damaged, because it is always possible that some roots have been roasted. This moment, it is 92 degrees F. outside (and about 80% RH), and the sun is like a directed energy weapon. Many small emerging leaves have been fried to a crisp, even in the shade. Nothing is spared at 110 deg. F.  The Japanese Maples have been especially hard hit. But, there are bright spots. Surprisingly, the Hornbeams, both Korean and Japanese, are growing well. They went dormant for a short spell, but they are putting out new shoots, after losing some leaves. I cut back the jaboticaba severely, immediately after returning from Rochester, in order to maintain and improve shape and ramification, and it is sprouting like mad and it is hard to keep up with in this heat. People wilt, too! The Chinese elms and even the Trident are putting out leaves in this evil weather, so, I guess I, and they, can't really complain. As long as I keep up the sweaty work, all will be OK. Stay cool!

3rd US National Bonsai Exhibition 2012: Review

It has been 10 days now since the 3rd US National Bonsai Exhibition 2012, in Rochester, NY ended, and I have been able to assemble my thoughts about it in a fairly coherent manner. So, I thought you might find it interesting to learn a little bit about what the show was like from the perspective of an exhibitor. Because a book of professional photos of each tree will be published in the near future, we were not allowed to photograph any tree but our own, so you will just have to wait and get one of those to see all the trees for yourselves. But, I will show you mine, in place, and you can see the winning trees by clicking on the word "Winners" (a new window will pop). Winners pix: Winners
 
My Jaboticaba was selected some months ago by the organizers (which probably means Bill Valavanis) for exhibition. It was a bit nerve wracking keeping it in tip-top shape, and even improving it, and transporting it 375 miles. But when we got it there for final approval, Mr. Valavanis accepted it immediately and put it in its final position himself. My wife, the tree, and I arrived in Rochester on Thursday evening, June 7th, because all trees had to be in place by Friday, June 8th before 2:00 PM, and we did not want to be late or harried. So, the next morning, around 10:00 AM, we brought the tree to the Exposition Center and, after finally finding the proper entrance, registering, and moving stands and plants in, we could comfortably look around at the trees coming in, the vendors setting up, and the Exhibition taking shape. It became obvious quite soon that the apparent chaos was merely an illlusion. Mr. Valavanis and his assembled crew had everything, and I mean everything, under control. Things were continually changing (including the location of my tree) but in a way that made the situation ever better. Bill Valavanis is a dynamo and knows what he is doing and what everyone else should be doing.

My Jaboticaba and companion plant at the 3rd US National Bonsai Exhibition 2012

As the trees and landscapes took their places, it became obvious that the quality of the material and art was of an extremely high order. And, after spending the entire next 2 days studying and learning from what I saw, that was nearly completely confirmed. Confirmed with 3 minor, and inexplicable, exceptions. I have never been to a large Japanese or European show, but I have examined, studied rather, literally thousands of pictures of what the bonsai world considers the best of the best. In my not so humble opinion, the quality of the best bonsai at Rochester would not look out of place in the best shows in the world. In fact, I will amend that to include the top third of the 248 trees. (Final stats update: 353 bonsai were entered by 118 exhibitors. Total bonsai on display was 248 by 95 exhibitors.) "Some bonsai were withdrawn after being accepted because of the tree's health." I consider my tree, pictured above, to be at about the 66.7% level of the Exhibition. Two professional bonsaists complimented it; it is unusual for a Jaboticaba to have a nebari like mine has, and the shape and ramification pleased them. You decide if trees better than it would be accepted at any particular show you care to compare it with. Don't use criteria such as "Japanese Classic" or "Naturalistic" or "Italian Modern". Judge it for what it is trying to be. (For example, would you judge an Abstract Jackson Pollock against an Academic like David, or an Impressionist Monet?) I would be happy to have you compare my tree against an Elm below, that won a Certificate of Merit in the 2007 Gingko Show, even though my tree's photo is an amateur shot and of higher resolution (showing the defects more accurately).

 Field Elm, Certificate of Merit, 2007 Gingko Show

Actually, there were 3 exhibitors, including myself, from our Greater New Haven Bonsai Society, and fellow member Tony Alario's "Japanese Classic" San Jose Juniper won a very important prize: Best Evergreen. It, and he, damned well deserved it. Not too shabby for a little bonsai backwater. The 3 exceptions were very puzzling. The trees were not only badly designed and executed, they were sick, and had broken branches and diseased leaves. It is incomprehensible that they had been allowed in.

There were several non-judged entries from a Montreal bonsai study group that were nothing short of spectacular. I wish they were full fledged entries. Perhaps they weren't because this was the "National" Exhibition. I won't describe them to you because I can't do them justice in a blog of few words. They were too complex and imaginative.  Buy the book and see them. There was a map posted at the entrance with push pins denoting where every tree came from. It was a truly National distribution, although, of course there were centers of concentration. I was told that there were temperature controlled trucks trolling the country and picking up submitted trees. I was also told that Ryan Neal was largely responsible for that, and he was as almost as much in evidence as Bill Valavanis in controlling the flow of the show. Also, as fillers, I suppose, there were some loaners from the National Arboretum. They were 10 foot trees. That is, from 10 feet away, they looked marvelous. They had all the required characteristics by the numbers. But, when examined up close, there was something not quite right about most of them. For instance, the maples were all shells of leaves, the shells perfectly formed umbrellas, but on the ends of very long thin twigs with internodes far apart and no ramification. They haven't been cared for properly. I mean, really cared.

At the very pleasant banquet on Saturday night, a very odd thing happened. Or, maybe it wasn't so odd. Prior to the awards, delegates and judges from various places spoke a few words, some through interpreters, about the show. The Chinese delegate was very effusive in his praise and invited us all to China, among other things he said. Next up, the Japanese delegate, again through an interpreter, spoke only a few words: told us that when he first came to the US, 25 years ago, he was shocked at the "bonsai" he was shown, as they were not bonsai at all, but "plants growing out of trashcans". He then said, having seen the bonsai in this show, that "Americans still had a lot to learn about creating bonsai". Punkt. End of story. Japanese politesse? Were you doing bonsai 25 years ago? I wasn't. He is right though: Americans have a lot to learn about bonsai. And some of the people who do it.

Sunday was spent going over the trees that merited further examination and discussing them with our club members who had made the trip. We also took a short side trip to a bonsai nursery that had only one tree, out of fields of prebonsai, that I would have liked to have. That one was too expensive by half. Disappointing. But, there was still food and drink and companionship to be had before next day's 7 hour drive home.

This was my first and last Exhibition, apart from club events. I have done it and don't need to do it again. I have learned what I needed to learn from events of this sort. Back to work which is not work: creating and caring for trees. I plan to restyle my Jaboticaba somewhat, which will be a tough job, especially since I will be removing lots of branches and branchlets that I worked hard to grow and shape. Initial creation is easy. Continuing the career of a mature tree is difficult, but it is the thought it requires that makes it fun.

Hiroshige's Trees Transformed Van Gogh's Art

Hiroshige's Trees Transformed Van Gogh's Art

(But not the modern Art of Bonsai)

Vincent stared intensely at the Hackberry tree. He had concluded that he should copy one or two of the prints in Hiroshige's One Hundred Famous Views of Edo to get the feel of the style that he found so alluring. Although he knew that he would paint trees in the manner of this woodcut masterpiece in the future, he was put off by the fox spirits that surrounded the tree, a theme which was not capable of being directly observed. This woodcut, “New Year's Eve Foxfires at the Changing Tree, ōji”, is generally included among the "best three” of the collection. Hiroshige Andō normally depicted the realities of the observed world in his work, and that appealed to Vincent and the other Impressionists.

Hiroshige Andō 

“New Year's Eve Foxfires at the Changing Tree, ōji”  
A bonsaist would be proud to have styled such a gorgeous Informal Upright. 

So, he decided to copy two other prints from the same collection;. One of the prints, Vincent decided, would, of course, be a tree, and the other an urban scene. This was in 1887, and Van Gogh painted “Flowering Plum Tree” (based on “The Plum Orchard at Kameido” in that same Edo collection, a favorite of Van Gogh's). The result is decidedly mixed, but it was, after all, his first attempt. He painted frames around the orchard in which he drew invented pseudo-Japanese characters. His use of colors was unlike the original and he had not yet grasped the subtlety of the Japanese use of complimentary colors; his use of green next to yellow next to red is garish. But, he had the correct goal.

Hiroshige Andō

Plum Estate, Kameido

Vincent van Gogh
Flowering Plum Tree
1887

He wrote, from Arles:

“I want to use colors that compliment each other, that cause each other to shine brilliantly... But whatever they say, the most ordinary Japanese prints, colored in flat tones, seem admirable to me for the same reason as Rubens and Veronese... I envy the Japanese artists for the incredible neat clarity which all their works have. It is never boring and you never get the impression that they work in a hurry. It is as simple as breathing; they draw a figure with a couple of strokes with such an unfailing easiness as if it were as easy as buttoning one's waist-coat." (Vincent to Theo, 24 September 1888)

Van Gogh had moved to Arles that year of 1888 expressly because he thought the light and subject matter was similar to that of Japan. The house he bought there, “The Yellow House”, was also called the “Japanese House”. He was especially intrigued with the olive trees, so common in the region. In the last few years of his life, he would create at least 18 paintings of olive trees, and many blossoming orchard trees as well. He shaved his head to "look like a Japanese monk".

He wrote to his sister from Arles:

"Theo wrote that he offered you Japanese woodblock prints. That is certainly the best way to understand which direction the light and colorful painting has taken. Here I need no Japanese woodblock prints, because I am here in Japan. This is why I only have to open my eyes and paint the impressions that I receive.

With the opening of Japan in 1854, after two hundred years of isolation, Japanese art and culture were introduced to the West, initiating a fascination that began in France (where it was called Japonisme ) and Holland – the Dutch had the island of Deshima in Nagasaki Bay, that was primarily a trading venture - before spreading throughout Europe and America.

Ukiyo-e (the “Floating World”, a euphemism for the “pleasure” districts such as the Yoshiwara) prints were particularly popular with Impressionist and Post-Impressionist painters and were studied and used as inspiration by artists such as Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro, Edgar Degas, Mary Cassatt, Paul Gauguin, and James McNeill Whistler, as well as Van Gogh. It didn't hurt that the ukiyo-e prints were very inexpensive, often serving as packing material for use in shipping crates of ceramics. Monet avidly collected the prints and displayed them in his home. Vincent Van Gogh, who with his brother Theo owned over four hundred wood block prints, organized exhibitions of them. The other Impressionists were taken by other ukiyo-e print subjects: Whistler by bridges and other structures(mostly on the Thames), Lautrec by brothels and Montmartre cafe life with its dance-halls and cabarets (much like the Yoshiwara), Monet by flowers, gardens and, briefly by geisha (he famously grafted his wife Camille's head on the robes of a geisha), Degas by women performing their daily rituals, Mary Cassatt by women and their children, Gaugin the apparent simplicity of life. But Van Gogh concentrated on trees and landscapes, as did Hiroshige.
 
Hiroshige and his “One Hundred Famous Views of Edo” occupy a special place in the Western reception of ukiyo-e. To many artists, prints from this series became important models for their works. Individual images were either copied, as with Van Gogh's oil based on “Plum Estate, Kameido”. Often they were more general sources of inspiration, evident in the adaptation of a particular landscape element or effect. After viewing another group of Hiroshige's prints at an exhibition in Paris in 1853, Pissarro wrote in a letter "the Japanese artist Hiroshige is a marvelous Impressionist." 
 

And Bonsai?

By now you are probably wondering just what these prints and now-famous artists have to do with bonsai. It seems to me that Bonsaists only consult other Bonsaists, or their work, in order to determine what is “good” or “bad” about a tree. The Impressionists, evidently, had more open minds. I thought it might be interesting to look at Japanese graphic art in order to understand something about what sort of tree Japanese artists thought was artistically interesting. It seems self-evident, doesn't it? The art I chose to examine was ukiyo-e woodblock prints, because they are of such high artistic merit, and because that merit was validated by so many of the best artists in Europe, and especially because there are so many examples extant. I make a few assumptions about your mindset. First, I am assuming that you consider bonsai an art. Second, although of Chinese origin, that the Japanese are, or have been, the most admired of bonsai artists. Third, that you agree that Japanese graphic artists are good judges of what other form, in Japanese culture, is good art. Fourth, that you agree that widely admired Western artists (such as The Impressionists) are good judges of what is good in Japanese art, and validate the choices of the Japanese.

For simplicity, let's stay with the prints of Hiroshige Andō and his Edo collection, and add a few of Van Gogh's paintings of trees – all in the mode of Japonisme. Although this collection is of “famous views” because of his specialization in landscapes and trees, he is the Japanese artist of the most interest to Bonsaists. I'll also add a few other prints (segments of prints, really) that you may find surprising.

For starters, let's look at both versions of “The Plum Orchard at Kameido”, Hiroshige's and Van Gogh's copy, above. Note that the primary center of attraction is the vertical suckers that the plums produce. And, they have so few flowers. Would you create a bonsai with such suckers? Then look at the broken major branches on the trees. Are they attractive? The plum tree has the habit of ground layering (a branch bends down to the ground, sends out roots and, from those roots, other trees grow.) Would you create a bonsai grouping like this, calling it a “raft”, if you will? Do you have the testicular fortitude to do these things and display the bonsai in public? I freely admit that I do not. Yet, we have proof that earlier Japanese bonsai masters did. The wood block print below is of just such a bonsai (not an orchard, however) created by Ippitsusai Bunchō, in 1770. It has everything that is in the Hiroshige print, and that I would be fearful of allowing in a bonsai. The sprouting suckers, the broken major branch (don't confuse that with an artfully placed jin), the new child tree sprouting from the ground, random rotted holes in the trunk, new branch suckers at odd angles. Would you do those things? But, those things are all characteristic of real plum trees not manipulated by Man, as Hiroshige has shown us. Below is a segment of a woodblock print by Ippitsusai Bunchō showing just such a bonsai. He was not alone in depicting such trees. Hiroshige himself included such a plum bonsai in a woodcut of 1820. I just won't include more of them in order to save space. But, note, too, how so many of the "rules" are broken: No single apex, no First, Second or Back Branch, no "triangle". Neither artists' depictions follow the "rules", and they are very similar.

Ippitsusai Bunchō 1770

Hiroshige 1820

Just one more example with which to question ourselves. The following print is called Moon Pine, Ueno, also from Hiroshige's One Hundred Famous Views of Edo. From the Brooklyn Museum (my insertion in brackets): “In Edo, there was a particular taste for naming trees that were distinguished by their age or their form. Pine trees, which tend to live long and grow in strange shapes, were the most common of these. The example seen here was called the Moon Pine, not only because of its full, round shape but also because [it was believed] one could discern various phases of the moon by looking at the tree from different angles. One twentieth-century commentary also referred to it as the Rope Pine, presumably because of its resemblance to a loop of rope.”

Hiroshige Andō

Moon Pine, Ueno

So, this is a naturally occurring form of branch in old Japanese Pines. But would you or I create such a branch? When I see something like this on a tree, I immediately think that it is a product of one of the mass producers of imported bonsai who synthetically create “movement” in trees by wrapping them, when young, around sticks, to hasten the time when they can be sold to some unwary soul. But, yet again, old Japanese bonsai masters created such bonsai. Here is one in a print by Utamaro Kitagawa, c.1804. It is not a vertical loop, but it is a horizontal one, which, in my mind, is worse.

Utamaro Kitagawa, c.1804

So what?

In what follows, I explicitly exclude those Bonsaists who create sculptures of their own devising from trees – almost exclusively conifers. The designs of these trees owe very little to the categories one sees in treatises like John Naka's volumes. The artists seem to be primarily from Southern Europe and they very often collect their material from the wild, and then bend it to their wills. One wonders, however, how long these trees are intended to appear as they do soon after creation, or how long the trees will actually live. Only time will tell.

What does that say about us the rest of us as Bonsaists? We, including me, are timid and follow the path of least resistance. We are not very experimental and we tend to make trees that are “pretty” and that look like large old trees we see in the middle of open spaces, such as parks. The majority of my trees can be classified as “Informal Uprights”, Mōyogi. That style probably accounts for the majority of bonsai throughout the USA. There is a saying in our club that “Windswepts never win contests”. So, I have only one of those. (However, I have seen one or two pictures of Windswepts that appear to be caught in the very instant of being blasted by a gust. They seem wonderful to me, but I do not think I have the talent or skill or patience to create one. I wish I did.) Broom style is unbearably boring to me and I have made none. Few people do. Although there are two or three Cascades in our club, I have none. One Cascade looks just like any other Cascade to me. I certainly do not have broken branches on any of my deciduous trees, although hollow trunks are attractive and I, and some of my fellow club members have trees with that feature. One bougainvillea is a nearly completely empty shell, yet flowers and is quite healthy – a very attractive tree denoting great age. But, major branches just broken off, as on those plums? No. Definitely not.

Maybe, just maybe, I am merely taken with the forms of trees I see every day around me, and maybe that is true of most other bonsaists. We like what we know, what we are familiar with. We create what we like. We have another saying in our club. “Every bonsai must tell a story.” Perhaps the stories that Informal Uprights tell are known to me. I, for one, truly adore Hiroshige's Hackberry Informal Upright we see above, feel that I know its story, and feel very comfortable with the slight breakage of “rules” in the crossing branches in front of the trunk. Score one for a very mild, not wild, departure from normative values. I also admire the olives that Van Gogh created as a companion to his “Starry Night”, Olive Trees in a Mountainous Landscape. Perhaps because they are all sinuous Informal Uprights. Van Gogh obviously was taken with that style, too. Why do you create the styles of bonsai that you do? Have you thought about it?

Vincent Van Gogh

Olive Trees in a Mountainous Landscape
June 1889

"The olive trees with the white cloud and the mountains behind, as well as the rise of the moon and the night effect, are exaggerations from the point of view of the general arrangement; the outlines are accentuated as in some old woodcuts." Vincent to Theo, June 1889.

Of course, he meant old Japanese woodcuts.

Acknowledgment: All the images of bonsai from partial woodblocks are from http://www.phoenixbonsai.com

Monsieur Le Bonsaiste Invents A New Oak

It was a lovely sunny morning in mid-September. We were driving down the left bank of the Vienne River towards its meeting with the Loire, where we intended to take a hike around the countryside near the picturesque village of Candes-St. Martin. I was in the passenger seat taking in the view of the scenery when I noticed a hand lettered sign on a plank fence surrounding a house as we went by. It said, simply, “Hosake Bonsaȉ”. I asked Sarah, my wife, who was driving, to stop and backup and suggested that we visit. So, as there were no cars on the road but ours, she safely did, and parked in the drive. Next to the sign was both a large gate and a large brass bell with a pull cord. I rang it and, in a few minutes a woman came out of the house and welcomed us into the yard. Later a man with a noble mustache came out of the house to show us his trees.

Chez Hosake Bonsaȉ

 There, on a few old benches, were potted bonsai; some decent Chinese Elms and some others that weren't very notable. All seemed pot bound and had grass and weeds growing from their soil. They probably hadn't been repotted in several years. But, then I spied something very unusual: two bonsai with miniature oak leaves. There was no doubting that they were oaks, but some of the leaves were less than an inch long and the longest was no more than 2 inches. One of them had a decent structure and trunk movement (although the roots extended to the edge of the pot in the mass of weeds). The other was pretty much a straight pipe, but had the same small leaves.

Bonsai labeled “Chêne microphylla” (For scale, the tag is about 3/4 inch wide). Note the roots extending to the edge of the pot.

The second “Chêne microphylla”.

Close-up of the small oak leaves in whorls.

The choke-worthy price tag.

I asked Monsieur what they were and he said that they were indeed Chêne and that he had collected them locally. There was a tag on one that said “Chêne microphylla” and €450, and the other was €430 . Choke, cough... On to Candes-St. Martin.

The next day dawned. Another lovely day saw us traveling a bit east from Chinon to visit the vineyards of Phillipe Alliet and Bernard Baudry. If there are better artists of the Cabernet Franc grape, please tell me about them. After a wonderful visit with M. Alliet and a taste through his range of current wines, we decided, as we had planned, to take a hike on a marked trail near M. Baudry's vineyards and chais. This was a countryside walk behind the village of Panzoult, and took us down lanes and through fields, up a hill, and into the woods. In the woods, we came on the trail, to a logging area, with piles of cut trees on each side. Then we cut through a field and crossed a little stream, and in that field was planted a row of small-leafed oak trees, very like the bonsai tree we'd seen at Hosake Bonsai! The last tree in the row had a sign posted. This was a huge clue in the hunt for the small-leafed oak microphylla.

 CHÊNE François Caille
Chêne pédonculé (Quercus robur)

 The leaves on these oaks varied immensely in size; some were about 4-6 inches, but a very large number of them were just as small as those on the potted oaks in M. Le Bonsaiste's yard. Some were smaller, about 1/2 inch. On some trees there was a mix of sizes, others were completely large or small. And they had the same growth habit: whorls of leaves at nodes. So, mystery solved: “Chêne microphylla” is actually Quercus robur, the English, or, if you prefer, the European Oak. Time to retreat to Bernard Baudry's Salon de Dégustation. There we received a warm welcome and fine hospitality and talked about many things with Bernard, including the oak he uses for his barrels, the species of which we are certain.

When back home in the States, I decided that I needed to try out this oak for myself, and confirm the identification. If correct, it might be possible to create a very nice and unusual (for the USA) bonsai. I know that Harry Harrington in England has made nice bonsai of English Oaks, even if the leaves seem a bit outsized from his pictures.

http://www.bonsai4me.com/AdvTech/ATquercus%20rootpruning%20and%20repotting.htm 

It was certain that the only place to obtain Quercus robur was at a a very large commercial nursery specializing in landscape trees, as it is not something available at a specialized bonsai nursery, for obvious reasons. The only one I could find was a mail order company that sold 1 gallon seedlings for a pittance. So, I ordered four, as that filled up the mailing container and minimized shipping costs (which was more than the trees).

Waiting for them to arrive, I did some research and found out that, indeed, there is a tree denominated Quercus microphylla, but it is a rare bush found only in northern Mexican deserts. Moreover, it has a lanceolate leaf.

About 2 weeks later, the English Oak saplings arrived. No thicker than two pencils, they, nonetheless, had a profusion of leaves and were about 2 feet tall. It was apparent at a glance that leaf size varied all over the lot. Some were 1 1/2 to 2 inches long, some were 7 inches long, and one tree had all large leaves, and another tree had all small leaves; the other 2 had a mix of sizes. However the identification of the oak was confirmed.

Quercus robur seedling with leaves from 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 inches.

A whorl of 2 inch leaves.

Taking Harry Harrington's advice to work them only when in leaf and, since they were, I took them out of their pots, cut off some ugly thick rooks and planted them in decent soil in my garden. I also did some rough trunk and branch pruning. Next Spring, the leaves emerged from all but one which had died in that extremely cold Winter (down to -17 deg. F.). Yet again, there was a mix of small and large leaves on each of the trees. They grew healthy in last year's growing season, and the three appear now, in March, to have healthy buds, as our Winter this time was spectacularly warm. The USDA even moved our hardiness zone to Zone 7a : 0 to 5 (F) . Two years ago, that was what New York City was.

So, what have I learned from all this? First, There is no such tree as “Chêne microphylla”. There may be a tree named “Chêne de petites feuilles” in popular parlance, but not a proper mixed French-Latin construct. Second, there are some French bonsaists that are very wily, and have a somewhat exaggerated notion of what their trees are worth. Third, it is possible to create an English Oak (Quercus robur) bonsai with very small leaves, indeed. Fourth, one of the ways to do that, is to choose a specimen that naturally has small leaves. Fifth, another way to do that, if we follow M. Le Bonsaiste's example, is to treat the tree fairly badly, that is, keep it pot bound and don't feed it much – after the trunk has reached the size you wish. (I don't know if defoliation is appropriate. Some years ago we had a Gypsy Moth infestation in CT and the caterpillars loved to eat oak leaves and many trees died from defoliation.) Last, roaming around in France and discovering things is great fun.

My Jaboticaba selected for inclusion in the 3rd U.S. National Bonsai Exhibition

This morning I got a wonderful email from William Valavanis: my Jaboticaba bonsai has been selected for display, and judging, in the 3rd U.S. National Bonsai Exhibition this June 9-10 in Rochester, NY. Naturally, I am pleased, but I am also nervous. I have only displayed it, and some of my other bonsai, in club events. This is something altogether more serious. As I look at it, as it sits in my living room, all I can see is its defects.

My Jaboticaba in this year's Club Show

 Last Summer, I decided it was getting too large (about a yard tall), and did some very radical apical pruning and lowered the root pad by about a half inch. Maintaining a tree at its desired end state is more difficult for me than creating that end state. It also had a very rough Summer because of the horribly weird weather we have been having in CT the last few years. In July and August, the temperature rose to 100 degrees F (38C) in the shade, and the sun shown blisteringly hot. I moved this tree, and some others, into dappled shade and watered every day (even the foliage, which I usually don't do for fear of molds), but leaves still got burned. Some days I even moved it inside. I was forced to remove quite a few leaves. So, now, the apex is just growing back nicely and the partial defoliation caused some nice ramification, and new leaves are budding out all over the tree, but the older leaves look a bit leathery. I think that is because it is Winter and, even with a humidifier in the room, the air is rather dry for a tree that comes from Brazilian uplands.

Now that I have just told the Exhibition's judges all about my tree's fearful faults (in my own eyes), I have a serious job ahead of me: get that tree into fighting shape. The material is still there, but I must justify the Selection Committee's faith in me. It is only mid-Feb, so I am hopeful that I have enough time to help the Jaboticaba shine like a star. As, I turn my head to look at it this instant, it looks pretty damned good.

Maple Forest: Sometimes, you just luck out.

It was mid-April 2011 and I had driven up to New England Bonsai Gardens in Bellingham, MA to pickup an elegant (in John Romano's knowledgeable words) yamadori Korean Hornbeam prebonsai. As I was on my way out, my eye was caught by a strong splash of color. What captured my attention was a forest of Japanese maples in full Spring red and yellow leaf flush. Walking over to it I noticed that it was an intriguing design and made of 7 trees in 2 groups, although one of the trees in the smaller group was a double trunk, so it seemed as if it was a 3 and 5 grouping. The trees weren't the standard straight sticks that many forests are made of, but had some nice movement and, on the left side, a long set of branches made nice negative space. I wasn't so thrilled with the blue pot, as it clashed with the red of the leaves, and it would dominate the trees when the leaves turned green in high Summer. Moreover, it had lived so long in the humid green house that a fur of fuzzy moss had enveloped the trunks to a depth of a few inches. So, I poked into the moss and soil (wouldn't any Bonsaist?) to discover that all but one of the trees did, indeed, have nice exposed roots. It had potential and, it was marked down to a clearance price. No contest of wills; I bought it. Lucky catch. My first, ever, forest.

The maple forest that caught me, immediately after purchase and scraping away most of the bad moss. That pot has to go.

At home with my trees, I quickly started removing most of the fur and saw that the bases of the trunks had been bleached white by the moss growth, but that would disappear in some time. Then, I found out that the trees were growing in akadama soil that had turned to a solid mud and would not drain water. The trees were in a swamp. It just so happened that the Greater New Haven Bonsai Society had just held an internal 75-25 auction, and I had copped a perfectly fine unglazed 19 inch tray-like pot for a dollar an inch ($19 or € 14.40, at today's rate). Just what this forest needed. An unglazed brown pot would seem like an extension of the landscape soil, and not distract from the forest. Although it was now May, an emergency repot was needed.

Not ever having created a forest (I had only designed single trees), I made a basic landscape of my own, loose soil mix that simulated a curved knoll or ridge, something like the original, but more distinctive. The plan was to have a mysterious path rise and disappear over the ridge between the two groups. After clipping the wire hold-downs, I started to remove the trees one by one, but, to my amazement, the entire forest peeled off the akadama like a sheet. And a sheet of rubber, at that, since I could stretch the completely entangled root system, but not deal with single tree placement. Nothing for it but to tease out the small feeder roots, clip the heavy ones, and fit, as best I could, over the landscape base. Stretch, pull, press, mold with my hands, until it looked reasonable. Then water it in. And, since the soil mix was so loose, I put a layer of a thin tractable moss over the entire surface to keep the landscape's shape intact until the trees' roots colonized it (deo valente). The whole process was like plastic surgery and bandaging. I put it in dappled shade and crossed my fingers.

The forest in its new pot after a month, the moss "bandage" removed and leaves clipped. Note the white residue on the trunks from the "bad" moss. But it is alive and looks healthy. The pot is nice with them, too, even if dirty. Also, note the negative space on the left. Should have clipped there a bit more.

 The trees took to their new environment wonderfully well, but was the forest an appropriate shape and form? I knew the general “rules” (odd number of trees in random groups, entire shape of the forest like the common isosceles triangle of a single tree bonsai, yadda, yadda). It complied fairly well, and, most importantly, I liked its new look. In the following month, our Society provided me with an opportunity to participate in a workshop with Jim Doyle of Nature's Way Nursery. If there is something he doesn't know about bonsai, it is not worth knowing. He has seen the elephant. I took my forest for a critique and some hours' work. Maybe it needed another serious surgery, or some drastic tweaking that I didn't know about. Jim examined it after I had explained it's history, made a crack about “akadama haters”, told me that (by accident) I had gotten the trees in an arrangement such that no tree was blocking another, that the two trees toward the center were, since taller, going to be the apex of the triangle, that I should let the branches pointing toward the other group grow (to make the path's disappearance more mysterious), that the negative space was a Good Thing ™, and that I should just clip and grow, starting with reducing the leaf mass right then. And be happy with what happened.

Sometimes, you just luck out.

The forest in Fall. Nice nebari, nice growth, gorgeous color

The Fall leaves with frost.

Is "Naturalistic" Wrong or Useless?

There is a web site called ArtofBonsai.org that is very curious. It consists partly, at this date, of articles by a few of the well known names in the EuroAmerican (neologism alert!) bonsai world, about bonsai as art and, obviously, the art of Bonsai. These articles are, for the most part argumentative and contentious. "Debate" is an often used word there, and the word "art" had become known as "the a-word". Some denied that Bonsai was an art while others demanded definitions that could not possibly be constructed. Such as "What is Art?" (When I was an undergraduate at Yale, I naively asked my advisor what Computer Science was. He answered, "Computer Science is what Computer Scientists do.")  It had very few entries in its "Forum", and almost every time I read an article or posting there, I was the only person at the site. Others, who did dare to post, had the same experience. About 2009, something strange happened to the site. Although it continues to exist, it was abandoned by its article writers (leaving a sinking ship?), and spammers occupied it everywhere. They even infiltrated the articles themselves, between the sentences, with ads for things like Uggs (whatever they are). It is now very much like an abandoned mansion that someone who could not afford it bought foolishly, got upside down with the mortgage, and fled rather than continue payments. Then this edifice got occupied by riff-raff, who turned it into a squat, a shooting gallery. and who knows what else. Yet the articles remain.

One of these articles has an extended comment written by a man I admire greatly, Walter Pall. His point was that a debate about what is "classical" and what is "naturalistic" in bonsai is useless; it has no purpose or knowable outcome. Since I defined my blog and what I do with trees as "naturalistic" and defined the word briefly in the interest of open honesty, I feel compelled to respond to this zombie of an article and Herr Pall's comments. Compelled, because this zombie is still out there for you to read and, if you agree with it, you may call me a naive fool, or as Herr Pall writes:"Too many say classic and mean stereotype bonsai. What is naturalistic? I am afraid that even less know what they are talking about here. Too many say naturalistic and mean unstructured, untidy, sloppy, poor craft - to avoid the word art here"

I am afraid Herr Pall poses a false dichotomy, especially in the use of the word "classic" (you already have a sense of what I mean by naturalistic). The words that I found in opposition to naturalistic are from the Japanese themselves. About the year 970, a Japanese work of fiction , Utsubo Monogatari (The Tale of the Hollow Tree), includes this passage: "A tree that is left growing in its natural state is a crude thing. It is only when it is kept close to human beings who fashion it with loving care that its shape and style acquire the ability to move one." This indicates that the notion that the natural appearance of a tree becomes art, only when modified in accordance with a human ideal, and is an ancient and basic concept in Japanese culture. So, the words, and concept, that Herr Pall should have used, instead of "classic", was "Japanese culturally determined ideal". Although ungainly, that phrase is operational and can be nailed down, as in Naka's list of rules. 

The year 970 was a long time ago, does the notion still hold? The answer is "yes". Recently, at our Greater New Haven Bonsai Society meeting, John Romano showed us a DVD video movie called‘Bonsai: Works of Divinity'. Our members made a very perceptive summary and reaction to it: "The movie chronicled one year in the bonsai life of Shinji Suzuki as he struggled with choosing a tree for the Sakufu-ten bonsai exhibition (Professional Bonsai Artist show) and preparing it for that. He made an unusual choice that was not favored among the traditional judges based on his inspiration of nature and visiting the ancient Jomon cryptomeria in Japan (estimated at somewhere between 2-7,000 years old). He wanted to reflect the naturalness of a tree rather than a perfectly coiffed one." and, "it emphasized the Japanese cultural perception of bonsai art being more perfect than nature”.

So, thanks to my fellow members for providing the proper words for me to  use in answer to Herr Pall's comments and for helping me not to feel foolish (any more than I usually do :-) and that I do not "say naturalistic and mean unstructured, untidy, sloppy, poor craft".

Some of the trees in this October picture are bonsai. Naturalistic?

"The Treeherd" Why?

Since I posted an explanation of what "Naturalistic Bonsai" meant to me, so you could understand where I am coming from, I thought I should also explain my choice of alias: "The Treeherd". It has become pretty clear to me that we do not actually create a tree. The tree is already there, it has already been created, and what we do is tend it to bring out its best, according to our lights. We shelter it in Winter, shape (similar to shear if it were a sheep, but I hope that none of us actually shears a tree, and thinks that it is a good idea) in the Spring and Summer. We feed it water and the proper amount of sunshine regularly, and add vitamin-like nutrients to its feed when appropriate. We protect it from pests and diseases. We provide it with an environment (for its roots, a pot), for the tree as a whole, an attractive stand or bench. If this sounds like "Horticulture" only to you, then so be it. But to me there is an Art to being a Treeherd, just as there is an Art to raising a prize heifer that wins a Blue Ribbon. Besides, there was a Bonsai Wise Man who wrote (approximately), "Bonsai is 90% Horticulture and 10% Art. I am just adding the notion that Horticulture is an Art, too.

"I don't design bonsai, I design trees." - Walter Pall

Just a quick note: I love Walter Pall's comment (actually, I think it is his sig):

"I don't design bonsai, I design trees."
              - Walter Pall

That's pretty much what I try to do. However, in a French forum, he wrote: "It is a general misconception to think that all i (sic) do is 'naturalistic'. in fact probably more then two thirds or more of my work is not naturalistic at all. It depends on when I started the tree, whether I got it already started in another style and then whether the material that I work with has talent for a certain style. It is not a good idea to only follow one single style in my opinion."

It is pretty clear that with his experience and talent he can do any damned thing he cares to and it will still come out interesting. Especially since he has 1000+ trees (by his own approximate count) at any one time. With 1000 plants to work with, you get 1000 or more possibilities. 

BTW, that French forum was arguing about such deep design issues and tricky fertilizing processes, that it sounded very much like a discussion of how many angels could fit on the end of an apical twig.

New Haven Bonsai Society's 2011 Show Video

I thought you might get a kick out of  seeing our New Haven Bonsai Society's 2011 Show. It is in 1080p (HD) so you can see every little twig. I also made it open in a new window rather than embedding it, so you wouldn't feel captive. What the Heck...15 minutes of tree porn with only ambient sounds: no Rap or Beethoven's 9th.

Video: click to view

Naturalistic Bonsai: My definition

 Naturalistic Bonsai

Since my blog has, as part of its title "Naturalistic Bonsai", I'll try to explain to you what that means to me. I was first stimulated to go in this direction by reading the late Dave Joyce's book "The Art of Natural Bonsai".  In it, he gives a definition of natural bonsai design. Many bonsaists follow this path instinctively, but it is worth it to be clear about one's goals. Her it is:

"A natural bonsai has no man-made elements to jar the design, such as an ugly chopped trunk, branches or stumps, and no wire marks or sudden big changes in taper, texture or refinement. The trunk and major branches in particular will have a pleasing taper and shape. It does not have long straight, uninteresting branches or trunk. Rather, it has interesting curves or direction changes, It does not possess unconvincing areas of dead wood or overly large leaves or flowers. It is three dimensional, containing many areas of interest and viewing angles. Its treelike shape is pleasing, evoking images of trees in nature and allowing you to cross that tree/bonsai line."

That last sentence is most salient, I think. There are no better examples of naturalistic bonsai than those in Peter Adams' book "Bonsai with Japanese maples" and he continues to be an advocate, with delicate prodding in print and in person. I'll qualify that: sometimes not so delicate. I took a workshop with him a few years ago, and, after he had spent a little time with me, to get me to understand how to work a particular tree, he went on to the next person who had a particularly rare (in these parts) French pine cultivar. He said, and this is exactly what he said: "Nice tree. The only problem with it is that you have turned it into a bonsai." We all knew what he  meant - the tree was spit-shined  with almost mechanically perfect finished leaf pads. Not how a tree grows in nature at all. In the Jan/Feb issue of Bonsai Focus magazine, he starts his column on suggestions for a tree's design: "An interesting  tree with a very natural trunk form typical of the Scots Pine. The challenge here is to maintain the character and feeling of this tree and not to 'bonsai' it out of all recognition." Even John Naka, whose books are the epitome of bonsai rules, has sections that he calls "Hints from Nature" and he bases his design on those hints.

So, I know all the rules, by heart actually, but mostly I don't follow them. I always try to discern what the tree would want to be if it weren't in a pot, but out in a field or forest.

A Cork Bark Elm In a Walsall pot (by Mark Jones) that started out as bush in a 7 gallon plastic pot. This is what that bush wanted to be, even with bar branches. (It has been considerably refined since this picture was taken and I'll spend some time on it in a Spring post.)

Korean Hornbeam on a stand I designed

My Double Trunk Korean Hornbeam on a stand I designed.

This tree was a disaster when I got it at a bonsai nursery about 6 or 7 years ago. Actually, my wife found it on the edge of the property roasting in the August sun. All the leaves on the daughter trunk were burned to a crisp. Moreover, it had air roots, if you can believe it. That is, those roots that now form a fine nebari were much higher and you could see through them - as if the tree were on a tripod. It was a consignment, so I guess somebody wasn't too interested in it. The first thing I did, after driving it home, was get it into the shade and watered, and watered regularly, until the weather cooled. Then an emergency repot (of course it was pot bound) and severe root prune to bring the nebari back down to Earth. Most importantly, I made sure there was space for the tiny feeder roots to drink and grow. In addition to making the root pad about 1.5 inches thick, I cut scallops around the pad's edges for space. I dusted the entire root mass with hormone and replaced what passed for soil with my own mix, which, by some accident, corresponds approximately to both Walter Pall's and Julian Adams' soil preferences: 80% Turface (or equivalent), 15% milled sphagnum moss (which I create by rubbing the strands against a wire soil sizing screen over a pail) and about 5% rotted cedar bark. The sphagnum moss has antibacterial properties and has long been used as a wound dressing in the terrible wars we seem to have too often - before antibiotics were discovered. The roots certainly needed that help, along with the hormone. (Naturally, everyone has their own fave soil; I just wanted to level with you about what I did. Use what works for you.) I never thought I could get away with this sort of thing in late August (late March is my usual repot time), but it worked.