This article was originally published on the ABBA website quite a few years ago, right at the start of my time at Shunkaen back in 2003.  Some of the views expressed are slightly naïve, but some I still hold today.  An interesting look back at the beginning of it all...


Page 3 ...

What do I do?

I am often asked “So what do actually do? Trim little trees all day?” There is no easy answer to this. The best way is to use the Japanese word iro–iro which roughly translates as a little bit of this, little bit of that, wheeling, dealing, serving drinks, knocking down walls and driving a truck full of rubbish a hundred miles away. It is the easiest answer.

At the moment, the start of September, summer is leaving us and the promised land of autumn is looming in the not too distant future.  As I’m sure most of you are aware, there is little to do with your Bonsai during the summer, except water, feed, spray, water, spray, feed.  Unfortunately this doesn’t translate as long lazy days watching the trees slowly grow on a hazy summer afternoon not for me it doesn’t.  Since the end of June we have been doing soil work, which translates as anything and everything. Kobayashi–sensei has built an extension to the museum at Shunkaen, and we did a lot of the preparation for that, knocking down walls, painting, sawing, scaffolding, building walls that kind of thing.  Also making tables, breaking tables, a bit of farming, some highly illegal rubbish burning at five in the morning, scrap iron collecting, cutting my thumb with a chainsaw: everything involved in running a nursery basically. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed everything I did, and always worked hard, as its all part of bonsai.  It isn’t sat around all day sipping green tea, quoting Basho and meditating on the transitory nature of life (We only do that between 7 and 9 am weekdays, 8 and 10 weekends). It’s more like blood, sweat and circular saws and iro–iro.

That said, I have done my fair share of Bonsai work, especially when I first started.  It was very much a baptism of fire when I arrived, just in the middle of the preparations for Satsuki season, lots of trees needed preparing for various shows all over the country including Shunkaen’s own exhibition and
working with the trees in training.  In Japan, as all over the Bonsai world, Satsuki Azaleas have a fanatical following complete with tape-measure toting train spotting anoraks who can recognize every single variant and cross breed just by the texture of their leaves in a blindfold test.  Bearing in mind there are literally thousands of different types of Satsuki, this is no mean feat.  I exaggerate slightly, but there is a massive obsession with Satsukis and the old men fight over who knows more, all in a very subtle Japanese manner of course.

Working with Satsukis is very easy and also very rewarding; you can make something that looks quite beautiful in three or four years.  They are also very forgiving plants, they will let you bend them all over the shop, strip them naked, and generally treat them roughly; but they will withstand it, and a few months later they will be covered with new shoots, flowers and look something like you want them too.  When they are flowering, they look very beautiful and at the same time very gaudy.  I’m not a big fan, I like them, but I prefer the small flowering varieties such as Nikko, Kinsai, Korin, Kikoshi and my favourite, Hoshi no Kakayaki. These have a tiny, star shaped purple flower and are a refreshing change from the standard Satsuki shapes and flowers. They only ever seem to be styled in a bunjin style, but I think this doesn’t really suit Satsukis, but I will never convince the legions otherwise.

Aka-matsuMy work with Bonsai is pretty much everything, from major restyling and wiring to more simple, yet equally as important tasks like weeding. I have been gradually allowed to work with more and more expensive trees when doing restyling. This week for example I was told to wire and style an Aka–Matsu (Red Pine, Pinus densiflora) which had been semi–trained into a bunjin style. I was a bit intimidated at first because it had a lot of extraneous branches which gave it a very dense and heavy look. It was also very lop sided and when left standing, was in danger of tipping over under its own weight. After a few minutes of looking and thinking, I set to work with the branch cutters. After I had cut of a few major branches, the tree began to look like it should do. It took a lot of courage to do, because the tree was worth 300,000 yen, about 1700 pounds, and I was left alone to work with it, but the fact that I was, and I did, and I did it reasonably well filled me with confidence and I continued to shape it, wire it and bend it to my own personal style. I haven’t received any positive comments about it, but neither have I negative comments, and that is the main thing. Praise is a seldom given gift, but criticism is a near constant kick in the knackers.

The most important job for me and my fellow apprentices is unquestionably watering. It is by far and away the most difficult thing associated with Bonsai. It is the daily battle between life and death, and so far it has been mostly life. I have had a few close calls, and some severe reprimands because of it.  The importance of watering cannot be stressed enough, it is the fundamental heart of Bonsai.  It isn’t just a time consuming chore which has to be done, it is the time where you communicate with the trees, when you look at them closely to see how they are doing, what they need and how you can give them it.  A Bonsai can die in a day if you are careless, and that is a massive responsibility.  For me, it doesn’t matter if the tree is worth a quarter of a million pounds or just a few quid; it is still a work of natural beauty.  If my lack of care and attention causes it to suffer, then I should suffer accordingly.  Bonsai is as complex and spiritual as it is simple and natural; the reason why we do it is for the relationship that we have with nature; the care, love and artistic expression that we put into each and every tree makes it personal.  Without that love, there is nothing; and if a mistake is made, and a tree dies, you question your existence.  

Quite melodramatic perhaps, but believe me, when you are in sole charge of three hundred of the worlds best Bonsai, it doesn’t seems that way.  In the middle of May I was left alone, Kobayashi sensei was away, my senior apprentice, Akiyama–san, was at his own nursery, and I was left holding the baby.  Japan has a climate which is sometimes similar to England, and sometimes similar to the Amazonian rainforest. On one particular day, the hottest recorded day of the year, the mercury rose above 38 degrees C.  I was obviously very aware of the need for water, but sadly I didn’t give enough to some trees. One Choujubai (Flowering quince, Chaenomeles japonica) didnt get enough water and it suffered quite badly. It was in a weak condition before, and very susceptible to drought, and my inexperience and lack of care and attention cause part of it to die.  A few of the stock trees, worth about two quid, were also killed. The intense rollicking I got the next day was a massive shock to me. I seriously questioned my being here and also my dream of becoming a professional Bonsai artist.  Kobayashi-sensei pulled no punches and really let me know how he felt, the language barrier was certainly not a problem.  I managed to survive due to some kind words from my Senpai Akiyama–san, and live to tell the tale.  Since then, every day is a constant battle against the next casualty, thankfully I’m winning for the moment...


Previous page...                                               1 - 2 - 3 - 4                                             Next Page...