by Zach Smith | Aug 24, 2015 | Care, Potting, Pruning, Soil, Wiring
The typical bonsai enthusiast is initially captivated by seeing either a real-life bonsai or a photograph in a book or magazine (or even on TV!). These tiny trees seem almost to jump out at you. But what is it about them? Why do they instantly amaze? The secret, quite simply, lies in how the bonsai is artistically designed.
To begin at the beginning, by definition a bonsai is a tree in a tray. That’s exactly what the word means: “bon” for tray, “sai” meaning to plant. Going beyond the basic definition, a bonsai is a representation, on a small scale, of a fully grown, mature tree in nature. It is meant to mimic the features of its natural counterpart, while not precisely copying them in scale. The practical meaning of this is, if the leaves on an eighty foot-tall oak in nature are five inches long each, shrinking that tree to two feet in height would require the leaves to be just over one-tenth of an inch in length. It would be hard to make out an individual leaf on such a tree, which would hamper rather than enhance its appearance.
So with this said, what are the basics of bonsai design? Here we can look to universal principles of design for our answer. Consider a landscape painting, for example. In order for the artist to portray a representation of an actual landscape scene on a flat canvas, he or she must take into account a number of factors. But the first necessity is the very same one the bonsai artist must take into account: fooling the brain into seeing something besides what’s in front of it. What does this mean? Again consider the landscape painting. It’s really nothing more than a piece of cloth with a shallow smattering of medium-infused pigments arranged in such a way as to represent earth, trees, grass, and so forth. Yet when viewed the brain can clearly grasp a scene that might very well appear somewhere in nature. There’s color and perspective, depth, form, shading; this evokes emotions. So too with a bonsai. A bonsai is essentially a landscape “painting.” When properly designed it has color and perspective, depth, form, and shading. And it most certainly evokes emotions. Perhaps the best thing is, it’s alive!
But bonsai is three-dimensional to begin with. This might seem as if it would lessen the problem of creating depth and perspective in our “living landscape painting,” but the truth is it makes this more difficult to achieve. Why? For the simple reason that the typical bonsai only measures from a few up to about 30 inches from front to back. Thus the brain must be tricked somehow into believing this depth is much, much greater (and not just thirty or forty feet, because the world continues on past your tree!). In addition to this, since a typical bonsai only measures from a few up to about 48 inches in height the brain must be tricked into believing this height is much, much greater. Finally, we must somehow manage to represent that part of the landscape which supports the tree – we have to grab a “slice of the earth” as it were. In sum, what you have when you pot up a small tree is basically a small tree in a pot. Much more goes into making it look right.
Let’s summarize what we know so far. Making a bonsai look right means making a small living tree appear to be much taller and larger than it is, and though viewed from an extremely close distance appear to be much farther away than it is. This is exactly the same effect the landscape painter works to achieve: on a flat canvas viewed from perhaps six feet away, a vista stretching for hundreds of feet or even hundreds of miles. Given this, let’s work through the design process that makes a bonsai a bonsai.
Trees visually consist of a root base, trunk, branches, and leaves. Unseen is the network of roots that provides the support, but we know it’s there. When you observe a beautiful tree standing alone in, say, a meadow, you grasp its entirety regarding its height and spread, its shape, its structure – in short, you get a sense of quiet majesty. The tree speaks to you while saying nothing. It stands firm and sure, gripping the earth. In the course of a year, it puts on fresh foliage, grows itself larger and stouter or at least renews itself if very old, bears fruit, shows brilliant colors as its chlorophyll breaks down, then drops its leaves in preparation for the necessary dormancy. Stability, or the appearance of longevity, is thus a key factor in making a tree a tree. Bonsai are no different. You want the tree to appear as if it’s been quietly living its life in its pot, standing against the elements and time. Stability implies a balance between the tree and the earth. Thus we find our way to the first definitive design factor for the tree – a balanced though asymmetric (i.e., non-static – more on this later), stable stance. In order to achieve this, we take advantage of the most stable of the three dimensional shapes – the (scalene) cone pointed upward. When viewed from a point designated as the front, this shape sits on a horizontal base and features unequal sides. In order to make our bonsai appear to be stable, we shape them to fit within the confines of a scalene cone. Now, this does not mean the tree is simply a lopsided Christmas tree with a broad base of foliage terminating in a tiny little point. It means that the combination of positive and negative space occupied by the tree conforms to this shape. Here’s an example:
Notice that even though you can’t see the entire cone in this picture, it’s nevertheless there as far as the brain is concerned (it’s represented here as a triangle; the implied front-to-back depth of the planting produces in the brain an impression of a cone shape). It consists of both positive space, namely the tree’s branch structure, along with negative space where nothing appears. It also captures the network of roots by suggestion; remember, the rootage of a tree in nature extends far beyond the confines of the branch structure. So it’s visually stable. Notice the tree is planted in the container in such a way that there’s a broad expanse of empty ground to the right-hand side of the tree. This asymmetry both enhances visual stability and prevents the composition from being static, which means it prompts the eye to move around and through the tree continually rather than focusing in any one spot.
And so, with our first design factor understood, it’s time to move on to our next factor: making your tree look taller than it really is. To be continued …
by Zach Smith | Aug 8, 2015 | Bald Cypress, Care, Potting
Okay, while I admit to enjoying everything associated with bonsai, the fact is it’s not necessarily all hysterical fun. Sometimes it can actually get to be a bit of a drag. Don’t get me wrong, the wiring, pruning, pinching, unwiring, rewiring, and so on aren’t bad at all, but I’ll admit that I find repotting seldom puts a smile on my face. So every now and then, you’ve got to do something different and have some real oddball fun with bonsai. This past winter I collected my first crop of bald cypress cones from my own trees. I sold some and planted some for future projects. And then I saw a post on a forum where someone had simply potted up a handful of seeds and grew a forest directly from them. Why not do the same thing with bald cypress? So I had this small Chuck Iker pot sitting empty and wondered what I could make of the idea.
Here’s how I got started on April 11th of this year. Bald cypress seeds have a very high germination rate, so I figured from this cone I should at least get a good dozen or two trees to come up. My first half-dozen are waking up in this shot.
By April 25th, the forest was getting pretty crowded. Almost everything is still at bare seedling stage, with just the cotyledons showing.
And here we are today. Now that’s what I call bonsai fun! I haven’t done anything to this new bald cypress forest except remove the stressed summer foliage from the interior. My plan is to do nothing else until next spring, and at that time I’ll shear the forest into a nice triangular silhouette. I expect the crowded space will keep the trees from getting individually too strong. And that’s the really easy way to a presentable little forest.
By the way, the pot is 6.5″ in diameter.
What do you think of this instant forest? Leave me a note below.
by Zach Smith | Jul 18, 2015 | Care, Chinese Elm, Elms, Potting, Wiring
There are distinct stages in the life of every bonsai. First styling and potting is possibly the purest point of artistic expression in that life. Beginning with a piece of raw stock – and this may be a regular nursery find, a purchased pre-bonsai or even a recently collected tree placed directly into a bonsai pot and now ready to be wired and styled for the first time – we, the artists, see a finished representation of a mature tree in nature just waiting to be revealed.
Once the bonsai has been initially crafted, we wait, water and watch (and sometimes worry). Assuming all goes well, the tree resumes or continues its growth and begins to assume the shape, in trunk and branch, that we envisioned. To the extent that things go well, we next settle into the routine chores that support the development of our trees. And that’s very good.
But what about the not so good? I’m confident you won’t be surprised when I say things don’t always go to plan. Even seasoned bonsai artists are subject to Murphy’s Law and the occasional stubborn tree. Many of us are prone to neglecting one or more of our trees due to competing obligations. I’m one of the great proponents of benign neglect when it comes to bonsai. I learned early on that trees simply don’t like being doted upon. So when you reach the point where you have enough trees and enough patience to leave them alone for distinct periods of time, you’re well on your way to success. And then you learn … too much neglect is very bad.
I love forest plantings, so I put together this Chinese elm group back in February of this year. It was composed of small, straight trees in order to create the impression of a stately stand of trees in an open field. In this particular case, I went with seven trees.
So after assembly, I watered and fed and set the new bonsai on one of my benches. Except for watering, I deliberately ignored the group. As spring came, other trees tended to crowd around it as I potted them – which was fine, I knew the group just needed to be left alone well into spring.
As spring brought budburst, all of the trees in this planting responded as I expected by greening up, so my forest was well on its way. I continued to leave it alone, only pausing to look as I passed.
Then one day I noticed a few of the trees were not pushing shoots. Not so good. I knew immediately what this meant, but I resisted the urge to rip them out. I didn’t want to disturb the roots of the trees that were doing well. But I knew the day would come when I’d have to replace a few dead trees!
Fast-forward to today. I think you can see the telltale signs of benign neglect. I’ve got three dead trees that need to be replaced, and a lot of trimming to do. No time like the present.
It turned out I have a temporary shortage of Chinese elm “sticks,” so this forest is temporarily reduced to five trees. I’ll add at least two more next spring from my new crop of cuttings that are busily rooting. But regardless, I think this developing forest cleaned up pretty good.
Okay, that’s the good and the not so good. What about the ugly?
Back in 2010 I rooted my first crop of Chinese elm cuttings. Some went into nursery pots, some went into the ground, and this one went directly into this rustic bonsai pot I’d had for about 10 years. I’m not entirely sure why I went to a bonsai pot with this rooted cutting all those years ago, but it’s sat on my bench now for all that time. It even survived the ice storm of 2014! I repotted it once, incidentally, and have done some pruning on it as it’s developed more or less on its own.
But … there’s really no getting around the fact that this is an ugly tree! Okay, it’s not one of those horrid “S” curve Chinese elms, but it’s not a whole lot better either. At the beginning of this post I suggested that the first styling and potting of a bonsai is possibly the purest point of artistic expression in the life of a bonsai. While I believe this is true, it certainly doesn’t mean we bonsai artists get it right every time. Trees often don’t grow exactly the way we want them. Sometimes they drop strategic branches and must be restyled. Sometimes we think we’ve found the front, then one day that turns out to be the back. In the case of my sad little Chinese elm above, it just didn’t have all that much to say as it struggled toward some common-enough tree form.
Today I finally saw something else in this guy, so I reached for my concave cutters and shears and restyled the tree in about 10 seconds. Is this something that looks more like a real tree? I think so. Compare the edited version of this specimen with my starting point. It’s hard to imagine the form above as something much larger and older. But the one to the left? Yes, I definitely see it.
The last step was to root-prune and repot the tree. I had this unique Chuck Iker round sitting empty. I think I’ve found the tree for it.
So, did I overcome the ugly? Leave a comment and let me know what you think.
by Zach Smith | Jul 12, 2015 | Care, Hawthorn, Potting
Okay, would I post this blog if the Mayhaw didn’t make it? But seriously, I got an email from a good bonsai friend after I posted the blog admiring my courage in repotting the tree in May. Granted, May is not the ideal time to repot much of anything so it was a sensible question. However, one thing I’ve learned over the years is that bonsai in good health have a bigger window in which you can do such operations as root-pruning and repotting than the conventional wisdom would dictate. Why? Simply because the tree has a “will” to live and will do so as long as conditions for growth are acceptable. In this case, I knew we wouldn’t get temperatures high enough to stop root growth for another couple of weeks at least. That generally means mid-90s, and considering that a root-pruned tree should not have roots against the sides of the pot I knew I’d have a month at minimum for root-growth recovery (and hawthorns aren’t typically vigorous rooters in any event).
The photo above was taken on May 30th. The one at left was taken July 5th. The tree resumed growth about two weeks after the repotting, which is typical. It did drop most of the leaves I left on it – in retrospect, I should have gone ahead and defoliated it – but that was just the tree taking care of itself until new root growth had occurred.
Nothing more will be done to this tree in 2015; no trimming, no pruning, no pinching. I have the leader wired up, and will remove the wire when it starts to bite, but that’s it. The tree will continue to grow into the depths of summer, but should slow considerably by sometime in August.
Okay, at some point I’m supposed to say, “Don’t try this at home,” but once you have some experience with trees and can gauge their health I say experiment with less expensive or desirable material you’re working on. The more useful techniques you learn, the better a bonsai artist you’ll be.
by Zach Smith | Jun 27, 2015 | Care, Hornbeam, Potting, Wiring
I collected this nice little American hornbeam, Carpinus Caroliniana, this past winter. I liked the movement of the trunk and taper, so I knew I could make a nice believable bonsai out of it.
All of the growth of the shoots you see here came from a bare trunk. Some of them are two feet long. Knowing hornbeam the way I know the species, there’s strength below the surface.
You may be wondering if it’s wise to be potting this tree in late June. To be sure, we’ve had unseasonably hot weather this month. But the thing is, American hornbeam never stops growing during the growing season. This may seem odd, especially since hornbeam is an understory tree. But I grow mine in full sun, and they don’t seem to mind.
After cutting off the trunk stub, I began working in the bottom of the tree. This one had a very good set of shoots in just the right places. I really love it when a tree designs itself.
More wiring and positioning of branches. It’s starting to look like something now.
Now all of the branches are wired and trimmed to the proper silhouette. I’ve selected the new leader and wired it into position. Very nice little tree!
As I expected, the tree had gobs of roots. Like most collected deciduous trees, you typically only get the major supporting roots when you lift them from the wild. There just aren’t any fibrous roots near the trunk. But again, hornbeam doesn’t care. It sprouts roots from the cut ends of the supporting roots very reliably, and they grow like mad all through the season. In this photo you can see some of the big fat white ends of the growing root tips. This is with temperatures in the 90’s, mind you.
Finally, the tree is potted into this nice Paul Katich oval. I think it’s a good match. The trunk base is 1.5″, and the height to the tip of the new leader is 10.5″. I’ll start getting good ramification next year. In about three years this will be a showable bonsai.
This tree is available for sale at our Hornbeam Bonsai page.
by Zach Smith | Jun 13, 2015 | Care, Oaks, Potting, Wiring, ZPC
The saga continues for my awesome willow oak, Quercus phellos. You may remember the tree got its first bonsai pot back in April, which was roughly four years after I’d collected it. The tree had not yet budded out for spring, so I was anxiously waiting to see what kind of growth I was going to get. I also had noted that the apical leader was too long and needed cutting back, but I planned to wait until the tree came out to make the cut.
Here’s a photo from today. The tree has come on strong following its root pruning. I cut back the apical leader to a smaller branch that was at just the right spot, and wired up a new leader. I’m letting that leader run. I’m also letting the lowest left branch run in order to thicken it. I won’t do any pruning on this branch until next year.
Also, the number one right branch needs to be cut back hard next spring, for the same reason I cut back the apical leader this year: it’s too straight for too long a stretch, and this branch needs to finish closer to the trunk. So there’s more to do here as well.
I anticipate completing the major structural work on this tree in about three years, at which point I’ll focus on building ramification.
The trunk of this tree is 4″ in diameter above the root crown, and will finish at about 17″ in height.
I expect to be offering willow oaks for sale as early as next year.
