Awhisper of trickling water echoed from a fountain somewhere unseen. A gentle breeze rolled in, carrying with it the summer's soft light and the subtle scent of dust. Miniature cedars and assorted bonsai stood proudly in various Asian-style pots.
This bonsai garden, nestled within the tranquil plaza and further enveloped by the larger structure of the building, stood as a serene, Russian-doll-like oasis of calm. It marked a stark contrast to the bustling layers of city life outside. The fusion of the delicate forms of the bonsai, embodying the essence of Asian aesthetics and philosophy, stood in harmonious balance with the bold and grandiose elements of the Spanish plaza.
Surrounded by these living little forms of beauty born from limitation, the words resonated more deeply. I reflected for a moment on how the environment had meticulously shaped my identity, much like the bonsais in their pots. The trees, with their twisted trunks and sparse, strategically pruned leaves, stood as a testament to the complex dance between freedom and restriction, growth and containment. As the whisper of the wind rustled through the leaves, I pondered the delicate balance of nurturing one's roots while yearning for the sky, realizing that sometimes, the very constraints that seem to bind us are what create our unique beauty and strength.
The maestro, realizing my interest, walked me through his garden, pointing out the age of various plants. As we talked, he showed me that his bonsai were reflections of life. They were lessons in creativity, in finding harmony, not through control but through understanding and adapting to the natural rhythm of existence.
"Creativity isn't about rigidly adhering to rules or conventional methods," he noted. "It's about nurturing ideas, allowing them to grow and find their own form. Just as with these bonsai trees, respecting their natural essence will resonate with beauty and fulfillment. In guiding projects with a gentle hand, allow them to unfold in their own time and way. Approach them like life, less about controlling and more about harmonizing with the natural flow of things. That's the dance between form and freedom."
In November 2008 Rhona and I spent several weeks traveling throughout Chile. We spent time in the mountainous Torres del Paine area, the lake district and in Santiago. Santiago is a lovely city with friendly people, delicious food and wonderful sights including high mountains that surround the city.
During our Santiago visit we were graciously hosted by Professor Alejandro Bedini , a bonsai lover and teacher, Escuela De Bonsai Kenzo, who escorted us to see many of the highlights in Santiago. We were delighted to visit his home, share a delightful Chilean lunch prepared by his lovely wife and view his bonsai collection.
Prof. Bedini escorted us on a tour of Santiago and one stop was to see the bonsai museum collection of Mauricio Allel Ara that was displayed in a quiet courtyard in a crafts and museum area.
Alexis has been teaching bonsai for many years and is a well known bonsai teacher. His trees include wonderful specimens that he has trained over his long bonsai career. His bonsai garden in Santiago is Jardin Kyoto Bonsai. .
During the visit we were fortunate to be invited to give a lecture/demonstration for several bonsai groups of Chile. My bonsai lecture/demonstration/discussion was hosted at the home of Cecilia Nuez and Claudio Figueroa. In attendance were members of several bonsai clubs and associations including FELAB, Asocion Chilena De Bonsai, Club Bonsai Chile (Instituto Cultural Chileno Japones), and Bonsai Nebari.
Members brought their bonsai to obtain opinions about their trees and possible design changes. Most of the materials were native to Chile. Chile has a varied climate that ranges from sub-tropical to temperate and has many trees that make wonderful bonsai including a number of Nothofagus species. Nothofagus include a number of species that have great movement, small leaves and delicate branching making for beautiful bonsai.
Then the real work starts. The tree must be shaped, both to keep it small and to force it to grow in the desired direction. Bonsai gardeners use a special set of tools that remind me of the dentist. These cutters are supposed to leave hollow wounds that heal quickly.
First Nation and Native Americans once bent trees to create guideposts. The marker trees pointed the way toward fresh water, medicinal plants or the safest route out of the wilderness. These early trail markers were made from saplings bent and staked with wild vines or rawhides. Nature would eventually take over, causing the tree to grow past the bend tall into the sky.
Nothing is more complicated, varied, attentive to detail, than the Japanese art of landscape gardening. Thus there is the form called dry landscape, composed entirely of rocks, in which the arrangement of stones gives expression to mountains and rivers that are not present, and even suggests the waves of the great ocean breaking in upon cliffs. Compressed to the ultimate, the Japanese garden becomes the bonsai dwarf garden, or the bonseki, its dry version.
But how to choose which limb to amputate and which one to save, if only to mutilate it beyond recognition? My friend Tim tells me of a harrowing moment at bonsai school. He and his teacher Yannick Kiggen examine a tree. A large knot, mostly filled with deadwood, mars one side. Should it be removed?
Alejandro Zambra is a Chilean poet whose first novella was entitled Bonsai. I missed that one but I did read his second, The Private Lives of Trees. Both books use a circular narrative structure to lead the reader down a rabbit hole (or through a tree knot).
The final stage in cultivating a bonsai tree is to choose the proper vessel to contain the plant. After all, the Japanese word bonsai means tray planting. The vessel must be worthy of its burden and vice versa. Or, in the words of Zambra reviewer Elizabeth Wadell
Autumn is already leaving its mark, and there are always many doubts about how to prepare our bonsais for the arrival of the cold. It is wonderful to see the passing of the seasons on our bonsais, and autumn has its own particular charm. In this article, we tell you what happens to our trees and what we should do to get ready and enjoy this time of year.
The heat is already starting to move away, and the temperature is going down. It is an unequivocal symptom that autumn is already knocking on the doors of our garden. In spring and summer, we have been fertilising our bonsai, and they grew healthy. When the temperature increased, they stopped growing and the process of energy accumulation began. That process will continue until almost the end of autumn. This will help our bonsai to survive the winter.
The food collected from the sun is transformed and treated to produce sugars and other substances necessary for their life. This is known as elaborate sap. Trees break down chlorophyll into different elements and store them together with sugars in the roots and the trunk. These reserves will be used in spring.
At this point, when the chlorophyll decomposes, the leaves begin to lose their green colour and, according to the existing pigments, they change to red, yellow or orange. Once the substances of the leaves have returned to the trunk, a layer is created that closes the union of the branches with the leaves, and they fall off.
Once they have reached the peak of storage, photosynthesis begins to be unnecessary, and the leaves begin to be dispensable for many deciduous trees. It is at this moment, that we begin to observe the fall of the leaves of the trees.
Not all trees lose their leaves. Evergreen bonsai use other methods to prepare for winter. Conifers use their resin as an antifreeze, covering the surface of their leaves with that wax and forming a hard skin with deep stomata. This cover help them avoid water loss and better protect themselves from the elements of winter.
Autumn is a time of little growth for our bonsai, that is why we must take advantage to do some work that will improve our tree substantially. We can perform a detailed wiring, work on or clean dead wood, we must continue fertilizing, and even, if necessary, transplant. We explain all of this below.
Fertilising in autumn helps to charge the trees with energy, so that they can sprout strongly in spring. Trees begin to sprout, consuming the energy they accumulated during the previous season. In this season it is very appropriate to use an organic in-depth fertiliser.
Choose a fertiliser that has phosphorus and potassium, but with low nitrogen. A greater contribution of phosphorus (P) and potassium (K) in autumn gives the tree the opportunity to collect energy and reserves for the next spring sprouting.
At this time, a transplant (emergency or pot change only) can be performed, only if the tree cannot wait until spring. To perform it, I recommend removing the minimum of the roots and not cutting any larger roots. Leave the rest for the other transplant in spring.
Autumn is a good time to redesign your bonsai. Plan what branch you are going to cut in spring or what new trunk position you are going to use. You can make use of pencil and paper and draw your new design. Since the tree is devoid of leaves (deciduous), designing will be easier.
As we have explained in the article, autumn is not only a beautiful time, but is also very important for works and care for your bonsai. So, get your wires, wire cutters, gouges and your autumn fertiliser, since there is still a lot of work to be done at this time of the year.
In Shinto, which lies in every aspect of Japanese culture, each object has its own Kami, the soul of things created. The art of bonsai is the result of observation, learning and meditation. Zen aims to discipline the mind until it becomes the owner of its own self through internal contemplation of its own nature.
The world is the trilogy of earth, man and God, which is why the triangular shape of some bonsai is just its perfect representation. The lowest part being the earth, then the man and the third one is God, or the gods (as I prefer to conceive it).
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