Trees in Trays

When I was fourteen, my grandmother gave me a small olive tree, a few shallow pots, and a strange pair of shears she had brought back from Japan. I have loved bonsai ever since. My devotion to the craft has ebbed and flowed, dictated by the constraints of space, competing interests, and the limits of my ability to mourn trees I had poured time and heart into, only to see them depart for the great compost heap in the sky due to circumstances usually beyond my control. Today, most of the pathetic trees I still own are actually tended by my father—may God bless his hands—who did not choose this path, yet bears the burden with noble silence.

Japanese Maple (Acer Palmatum) by Walter Pall

Bonsai is, ostensibly, a simple matter: a small tree in a tray. But—and this is a significant 'but'—it is far more than the stumps of Brachychiton, Portulacaria, and Ficus that commercial nurseries thrust into gaudy ceramic pots and sell at a premium as 'trees of love, wealth, and happiness.' The real thing is a matter of feeling.

Not a bonsai

A good bonsai is meant to evoke the sensation of an ancient tree in its natural environment, all while remaining under a meter tall. How is this achieved? This is where technique meets intuition.

The art of bonsai is an ideal; it is an artificial creation whose raw material is the natural. The bonsai artist presents an idealization of nature, a desire to bring the power of the wild to its highest expression. I can guarantee that there is hardly a bonsai grower who can look at a pine tree from a distance without mentally calculating which branch to remove to highlight the structure of its limbs, the curve of its trunk, or the gnarled character of its roots, pushing the tree toward its full aesthetic potential.

I have heard far too many claims that bonsai is a form of plant cruelty because it involves frequent root pruning and the shaping of branches through bending and wiring. This is entirely baseless and stems from a total misunderstanding of plant physiology. It is no more cruel than mowing a lawn or pruning a deciduous orchard.

In fact, with proper care, bonsai trees can flourish for centuries, often outliving their counterparts in the wild. Maintaining one is no small feat; it requires frequent watering—sometimes three times a day during an Israeli summer. It demands constant attention to the tree's vitality. The plant maintains its vigor largely due to regular root pruning, which allows it to rejuvenate and grow the new rootlets essential for absorbing nutrients and water. This pruning occurs every one to five years, depending on the species. It is a thrilling and moving pursuit, but it requires a constant vigilance and uncompromising care that is not for everyone.

Japanese White Pine (Pinus parvifolia), approximately 400 years old. It survived the atomic blast at Hiroshima.

History:

The art of bonsai began in China, likely when physicians and monks carried medicinal plants in earthenware vessels. Over the years, these plants became woody, taking on a sturdy and, well, tree-like appearance.

Over time, the aesthetic value of these woody plants was recognized. They began to be cultivated for pleasure rather than just their medicinal benefits, and their cultivation was no longer limited to healing herbs.

The Chinese style of bonsai, originally called penzai (盆栽), remains somewhat wild and naturalistic to this day—though again, it is naturalistic in the idealized way the Chinese perceive nature, reminiscent of their ink wash paintings.

From China, like many good things, the art migrated to Japan, where it underwent a local, formal, and sometimes rigid refinement. Today, one can speak of distinct categories used to judge trees in exhibitions. These categories are based on styling, such as 'formal upright,' 'informal upright,' 'cascade,' 'semi-cascade,' and 'group planting.' There are also size categories, ranging from tiny trees that can be held between two fingers to large trays requiring two people to lift.

Among the most beloved species for cultivation in cooler regions are the Japanese Maple (Acer Palmatum) for its red foliage, the Black Pine (Pinus Nigra) for its short, dense needles, the Chinese Wisteria (Wisteria sinensis) for its clusters of purple blooms, the Plum (Prunus), and my personal favorite, the Ginkgo Biloba, whose beauty is indisputable.

Ginkgo Biloba. Source: bonsaitreesandpots.com

In the sweltering Levant, there is unfortunately a certain difficulty in growing many species originating from temperate zones. While some can be managed, they require special attention and rarely look their best. However, there are local species that thrive in Israel. The Olive (Olea europaea) is wonderful raw material in terms of resilience, trunk texture, and foliage. Local oaks, such as the Tabor or Boissier oak, can also serve as beautiful material, though the Common Oak is somewhat sensitive to root manipulation. Other suitable species include the White Mulberry, Carob, Tamarisk, and of course, the hardy varieties of Ficus, which can survive even the worst gardener.