In the late summer of 2010 I collected this Mountain Hemlock, Tsuga mertensiana, with my friend Anton Nijhuis in Canada, and potted it in a strange box that was sort of cantilevered up because the tree had been prostrate, growing through the mosses on bedrock. Digging through the moss uncovered a rather curious twin-trunk base that seemed like it would have to be styled in an unorthodox way, so naturally I wanted it. A year and a half later the box was full of roots, and the time seemed right to complete this weird idea of mine.

I’ve always wondered about alternatives to stone and prefab slabs. They tend to crack or break just when a show is just being set up; their timing is truly impeccable. Also, a bit ironic given that I used to be a potter, I’ve been drawn to the idea of making nearly invisible platforms, in place of a ceramic container. In other words, something supporting the tree that is really not an element in its presentation. So the idea of an inconspicuous, impervious, strong support had me pondering for a while.

Like many of my creative endeavors, I quiz everyone I know. ‘So, I have this idea… how would you do this if you wanted to do that?’ And you end up with a collage of ideas that you edit and orchestrate into a complete vision, sort of like an orchestra conductor or movie director must do I suppose. With an assortment of weird tools, bolts and ideas the March Seasonal students and I spent more than a day cobbling the thing together, and it was great fun—- Thanks Roger, Gary, John and Konnor!

Mountain Hemlock before styling.

Styled, but before the potting experiment...

Right side view---tree swoops far to the rear before coming forward.

A full box of roots in 100% pumice, one and a half years from collection.

Tree out of the box in position on the nylon board, with a sketch of the platform design in ink. The fragile rootball is held together with cheesecloth. Lots of moving around at this point with an unwrapped rootball would have destroyed it. Gary or Roger's legs, I think... sorry guys, I am not attentive enough to identify your boots or belts. Thanks to both of you, though! There was a fair bit of holding things in position that day.

Konnor Jenson, my intrepid periodic apprentice, filing the edges of the board. Sporting a knit hat, he looks like a diehard Portlander!

The plan to hold the leaning muck wall in place. We did not take a shot of the twine that we wove between the chopsticks, offering a bit more support. The bolt heads you see are the top side of our levitation idea, with round end caps underneath serving as inset 'legs'.

Mossing the surface; disembodied nose courtesy John Kahlie. He passed the mossing test with flying colors and will be relieved to move on to lichen in the next Seasonal... Just kidding, John!

The final design. The small accent plants near the base are heather and a curious evergreen penstemon, for those interested in the smaller elements. The moss may eventually grow over the edge of the platform, hiding it, at least that is the hope. This tree had an odd bend in the right smaller trunk, and I thought the addition of a cantilevered wall on the right side would marry well with that, sort of like a second bad note hit in a jazz piece that you think, 'Huh, that guy must have intended that, so maybe it works.' Opinions? Please let me know. In any event, this tree needs filling out a bit. The buds are swelling well in my greenhouse and it will be in there another month under a misting apparatus. Just like it got naturally on Vancouver Island...

Also, take a look at what Jonas is doing with another hemlock at:

http://bonsaitonight.com/2012/04/03/mountain-hemlock/

Euonymus is a popular genus for bonsai. The burning bush, Euonymus alata, is not a commonly used species, however, and I was excited to give it a whirl. This photo essay was taken in the creation of this bonsai during the Winter Seasonal of 2012, in February.

The Euonymus after growing in an Anderson Flat for a few years. This photo was taken the day of styling, in February 2012.

The stalwart Howard Griesler of Chicago working with the flex-shaft grinder to bring down the large pruning cuts. (Howard is a foodie and loves our eclectic Portland restaurants...)

The redoubtable John Denny from Iowa working on the rootball. (John is a master brewer, and typically makes sage comments about the local micros).

Both gentlemen washing the rootball of some mucky old soil. I stood far away.

The prepared rootball drying a bit before potting.

Pot prepared... for this tree we used a simple mix of 50% akadama/50% pumice. This is not a perfect pot for the tree, but at least it fits. I'm sure there is a colorful glazed pot in its future, perhaps a dark blue or green.

Right about this time Howard's glasses broke. This was our solution---toothpicks from the kitchen deftly wired into place. It is rare to find an opportunity to wire outside of bonsai! One must take them eagerly whenever they arise.

The final result. It needs a stupendous amount of development, but it's an unusual species for bonsai and I'm curious to see where it goes. Certainly it will give the Japanese maples a run for their money in the fall with its vermillion foliage.

Many of you may remember this Foemina juniper from old photos of California bonsai shows, or even last year’s Bonsai Statements magazine. It has a thirty-year history as a bonsai, created in California by the eminent Shig Miya from an air layer. Mr. Miya grafted the only branch at the top of the tree.

Deciding on this aesthetic shift for Mr. Miya’s tree was derived from a simple conversation about its possibilities with my client, who had purchased the tree several years ago. We were both eager to try a new form. My client is very interested in preserving old bonsai created in the States, but he also likes adding new twists to old things. I think bonsai develop an indefinable flavor when they’ve been worked on by multiple artists.

I am not a proponent of keeping bonsai as they are, indefinitely, in perpetuity, as a form or creative idea that was locked into place by the first artist. Bonsai are BONSAI precisely because many people, hopefully, lend their artistic stamp to it, and the bonsai change and morph over the decades. This is what makes a bonsai different from a novel or a painting. I know this is an issue of some contention particularly in public bonsai collections, where, understandably, there is an effort to retain bonsai looking like they did when donated. This presents great difficulties, however. It seems to me that if a bonsai were, to use an extreme example, to lose an important branch, then to have it remain locked in its old form even though visual balance has been lost would be to allow it to devolve into bad bonsai. And bonsai change without asking for our approval, too.

I think the only rule is to be continually seeking to find balance within the tree, within the design. And everyone’s sense of balance will be, naturally, a bit different.

The Foemina juniper on the Sept/Oct 2010 cover of Bonsai Statements.

Photo of the Foemina juniper from a show a few years ago, in the original design.

Current design, fall 2011. The lower right jin may be shortened in the future. My feeling was the apex should be lower than the top of the trunk, and that the cascading branch was too long. I hoped these changes would highlight the massive, straight trunk. And I wanted to see more integration of foliage and trunk, so that it appeared more as one unit. It needs perhaps a bit more growth to complete that last goal. Please comment freely and honestly!

One of it’s few defects is a strong root on the right. I’ll have to discuss this with my client, but I may split it and lower it, at the same time raising the entire tree by half an inch next time it’s repotted. That way I hope to expose some of the other nebari roots and make them all at about the same level. Did that make any sense? Splitting the root will make two roots…and easier to lower.

Anyhow, here’s the tree as it looks this fall:

Seedling Japanese white pine, shikoku variety, before rewiring in fall 2011.

After wiring. The shoots still show quite a bit of strength so it will not be repotted for another year.

I’ve been surprised how well Ponderosa develops here in the Northwest. When I first moved here in 2006 I assumed there would not be enough sun to really get the budding and shorter needle growth on these pines, but having worked on a few now over a few years I have another opinion. This one will need only another three years or so of growth before it feels settled into this new styling.

Ponderosa pine before wiring

And after styling. Tree is tilted to the left to prevent vertical/horizontal sections of the trunk, and to create better drama in the flow to the right. Apex needs several years of growth to fill in.

Spruce is a very popular tree for bonsai in Japan. The vigor and tenacity as a potted tree is equaled by few genera, and the serene, quiet feeling of it is greatly appreciated over the water.

As the tree looked after initial styling and 'potting' in 2009. Stubs were left on cut branches to control some bleeding of the sap.

In September 2011 before rewiring. In 2010 I planted some 'Kokinsai' azalea to the rear, which is a dwarf azalea.

As it looks now following rewiring. There are still thin areas, particularly in the apexes. Spruce develops rather rapidly, however, and I think in about three years this should look more mature. It's starting to look 'quiet'. Halfway there! Although we could argue whether there is ever a 'there' in bonsai.

This was a day’s work. Curious tree, I think it is rather Chinese in feeling. I still remember working on it, snapping off the jins to create natural, un-carved deadwood. They were so dry they sounded like firecrackers. Made Boon a bit jumpy, I think. And I still have the shirt I wore that day…

This is a Western juniper, which is a fast developing, very strong species. Like most junipers there is some variability in the foliage habit, whether it is loose and leggy or tight and refined. It does tend to grow the preferred scale foliage as a bonsai. Its best characteristics are a beautifully colored underbark, which is rich brown to salmon color, and very strong roots and shoots.

A few years after collecting from Idaho

I still think of it as the 'Chinese' juniper... That lower right branch that curls in and out was a great gift of nature.

It was growing wildly and moppish when I bought it in 2008, and was styled in 2009. When wiring spruce, be careful to spray the foliage with water first. Otherwise many healthy needles might simply drop off, which really weakens a tree. Ezo spruce is especially sensitive to agitated needles; hydrating them first makes them more durable.

I like the calm, peaceful feeling of spruce. (They smell nice too!) This one would look good in a tokonoma display, maybe with a water stone to suggest a serene high mountain lake. Or, for the ironically inclined, a small figurine of a panting, exhausted hiker, leaning on a stick…

The Engelmann before work, 2008.

An early shot of the styled tree, October 2009, 31" high.

After a two years of growth, August 2011. The plywood base is temporary... I'm considering leaving this without a pot at all, just a solid root ball with, eventually, a hidden support underneath. Something my Seasonal students will play a hand in...

View of mature bark, lichen, and nebari.

An evergreen penstemon serves as an on-board accent. This one is native to the Cascade Range where the Engelmann lives. Small purple flowers come in late spring.

Same day, different lighting. Interesting how the character of the tree changes with the lighting, yes? This photo is very close to the natural blue/green of the foliage.

He’s done very well maintaining this tree, and even in the low-sun area of the Puget Sound the tree is ramifying beautifully. With time and further ramification the needle length will shorten a bit.

The pine in its box, 2007. It was collected by John Muth several years prior to this photo.

After that first morning's work in 2007.

After a bit of prepping in August 2011. The 'tail' that juts from the right of the trunk is optionally removable. The pot is not right, it's a training pot and is a bit heavy. The nebari has yet to be fully exposed, which is fantastic. We're waiting expectantly to fit it into a shallower pot that just arrived. Spring, hasten!

It really did look unpromising at first, but I’m proud of my student’s work. They made a significant bend in the main trunk in hard dead wood—which originally was as straight as an arrow—and wired the top branches. Then this spring we repotted it into the bonsai container it is shown in. We tried a few display options and possible companion plants in our summer Seasonal last week (July 2011), which included several of the students who had seen it through from the beginning.

It was a lovely transformation, this tree, my student’s efforts. They brought what was nothing much to something of note. Rilke says something appropriate in his Letters to a Young Poet:

“If you will love what seems to be insignificant and will in an unassuming manner, as a servant, seek to win the confidence of what seems poor, then everything will become easier, more harmonious, and somehow more conciliatory, not for your intellect—that will likely remain behind, astonished—but for your innermost consciousness, your awakeness, and your inner knowing.”

The Sierra juniper at it's first styling, just after making a bend in the trunk. May 2010. The long jin on top was later removed.

25" high. July 2011. Tricky to get the lighting right in a photo that will express the back and forth movement of the simple trunk. I've never been satisfied with images of bunjin, which require the viewer's presence for a sense of scale, subtleties of movement, and evocativeness. To critique this, I think the apex could be smaller and more compact, it seems a bit loose and rangy for the thin trunk.