I not only get my kicks by painting and drawing. I do bonsai too.
Bonsai, the charming art of growing miniature trees in fancy pots, is a satisfying pastime for creative souls who enjoy growing things. Growing bonsai trees is another avenue (or perhaps a distraction?) for me to pursue my creativity which I’ve found it to be a wonderful adjunct to my art life. Anytime I need to relax and take a break from my art, or anything else for that matter, communing with my bonsai trees is as refreshing as taking a nap. Nothing quite relaxes me and revives me as time with my bonsai does.
I was fortunate to have discovered bonsai when I was a really young lad. I was barely a teenager when I first read about bonsai and saw my first black and white pictures of some not-so-great bonsai. But seeing those trees was like seeing Heaven and I would never be quite the same again!
Bonsai is a curious hobby for a young teen to pick up. But it caught me at a good time as I was a budding horticulturist with a youthful passion for growing stuff. Growing up as a country kid we had the traditional garden that we grew every year so I suppose that’s what may have started me down the road to my green and dirty thumb. The life and drama of the veggies and weeds that populated our garden plots was a sort of theater to my young and impressionable mind as I was regularly dispatched by my parents to pick something or hoe some weeds to death. Even as a kid, plants had an attraction that drew me like a bee to clover. So I could hardly be blamed when I began collecting seeds and growing them for kicks as my parents must have sighed with relief that I wasn’t getting into trouble. I discovered a joy to watching an inert seed wake up, break ground and continue the eternal cycle of life. It still thrills me today.
Like every piece of art I make, every tree I find and collect is special to me. Each has a story and sweet memories involved. For instance I have a native red maple that I’ve been pampering which I suspect originated from the red maple in my neighbor’s back yard. I found it a few years ago as a tiny seedling that was growing underneath a downspout. The red maple in my neighbor’s back yard is by far the closest red maple around and most likely the mother tree. But the amazing thing is that there’s a row of towering white pines on the property line dividing his yard from ours. How a maple seed managed to get past that I do not know and can’t even imagine. But nature somehow found a way!
My red maple isn’t terribly red most of the year and actually turns a woozy pumpkin orange in fall just as my neighbor’s red maple does. They both color up at precisely the same time and go bare at the same time which further suggests that my neighbor’s tree is indeed the mother tree. Even though it’s just all of four years old it is already a sizeable bush, even after cutting it back a couple of years ago. It’s over three feet tall with a stout trunk that’s thicker than my thumb after getting pounded with a hammer. I envision it aging into a healthy sized bonsai with a large spreading dome of a crown with several trunks emerging from the base as old maples often do. Our native red maple isn’t commonly grown for bonsai as most bonsai lovers prefer growing the Asian species of maples that are smaller trees and probably better suited to bonsai and lovely in their own right. But the artist in me sees the beauty of our common red maple too with its rough bark that peels in old age and leaves that shimmer on windy days. And the fall colors can be mind-blowing which will surely get any artist giddy.
Maybe it was inevitable but harboring a love of beautiful things perhaps made me the artist that I am today. Or by following my heart and becoming an artist I now have a greater appreciation of beauty? Whatever it is I find plants of all sorts to be beautiful even when they are the horticultural equivalent of a hobo. Beauty can be obvious or it can be unrecognizable. But it is there if we only look for it. At least that’s the common message that bonsai and the other arts teach me again and again.
One of my more unconventional trees that I’m trying to convince into becoming a bonsai is a rascal I just dug this past spring on some land my folks own. It’s a trifoliate orange, a pesky invasive species of orange that is curiously the only citrus species that’s hardy outside of semi-tropical areas. It’s an invasive species and proliferates rapidly, usually in wooded areas. I don’t know that there’s a lot of good one can say about this green devil. It really does make oranges but I’ve never tried eating one as I’ve heard it’s so sour that it’ll make your toes curl for a month after taking a bite. It’s a wickedly spikey beast with serpentine green branches that makes it look almost sinister. If you’re ever looking to make the ultimate hedge then plant some trifoliate oranges because ain’t nothing crazy enough will ever take a chance coming through it.
Maybe artists are the type who love being challenged which might partly explain why I even bothered digging up this monstrosity. It’s a pain in the butt for sure and maybe even a hazard to keep around. But, despite its faults and kooky looks, I still find the species an oddly beautiful one in its own manic way. In the wild the species are smothered in a cloud of angel white blossoms that, unfortunately, haven’t even a whiff of fragrance. In fall the leaves turn a bright lemony yellow. Combined with the green of the stems and the oranges bedecked like Christmas balls, trifoliate oranges do brighten the landscape and add to the fall decor. In winter the emerald green of the branches are rather beautiful. Even more so when draped in snow. It will be a long time before my trifoliate orange is show worthy but hopefully I can achieve it before I hit old age. I trust that I can make something special of it, even though it probably won’t follow traditional bonsai convention due to being such an unconventional plant. Being an artist means trusting your gut instincts and blazing a new trail just to see where it takes you.
One of the creative dilemmas I can’t quite settle is whether or not I should declaw this bush? The artist in me respects the quirks of the subject I’m working with. Those thorns, as unpleasant as they may be, are still a natural part of its makeup as much as my toenails and fingernails are for me. Exhibiting a plant in all its glory means showing off ALL of its unique features, thorns and all. But the practical side of me also has to ask if those thorns really add anything to the bonsai’s looks and appearance? I honestly can’t say one way or the other. In some ways I think the bonsai would look better declawed. But, then again, having those spikes out for all to see would add an element of drama that one usually doesn’t see in the tranquil world of bonsai. And I like being different and unconventional. That’s the way you’ll ever make a name for yourself. Who would’ve ever guessed being an artist would be so darn philosophical?
Lordy, I need a nap. Till next time.
As promised, here’s some of my latest artwork. This is a watercolor of a nearby creek that I visited and, just as when I was a kid, creeks still captivate me. I didn’t worry too much about the details and just did a quick down-and-dirty painting while I had a few minutes. I need to work on the lighting which would certainly improve things.
