Glider

I agree very much with Lehket.

I think This is an interesting post. Here are some of my thoughts:



I think there is often perhaps some confusion between the object (the tree) and the subject (our ideas concerning trees). When we view an object such as a tree, we are usually dealing with the projection of stereotypes or, more accurately, ‘schemata’. The tree, objectively, looks like a tree. It only looks like a bonsai to someone with a schema for bonsai (i.e. a preconceived cognitive ‘template’ of the defining characteristics and form of a ‘bonsai’). With no a priori knowledge of bonsai at all, it would just have looked like an odd shaped tree; perhaps a caricature of a tree.

Having been exposed (probably many times through various media) to images of ‘bonsai’, often stereotypical (e.g. Karate Kid et al.), we develop schemata for the stereotypical physical attributes that make up a ‘bonsai’. Then, if we see a few or more of these attributes reflected in a tree in the wild, it simply evokes our schema for ‘bonsai’.

So, in essence, what we have is a tree in the wild that coincidentally possesses a few or more of the attributes that evoke our schema for bonsai and so the label ‘bonsai’ is applied.

I think this tendency in humans to develop schemata (which is a perfectly natural psychological characteristic not limited to humans), is more of a hindrance than a help in many cases, particularly when it comes to the more subjective areas of life, such as bonsai.

As you know, bonsai means literally ‘tree [in a] tray’ or something close (I don’t speak Japanese), but, in my opinion, that’s all it should mean. However, to many, the word ‘bonsai’ actually evokes images (schemata), where the English term ‘potted plant’ evokes no such vivid and concrete preconceptions.

Many who come to bonsai do so having developed such schemata and so have certain a priori precepts concerning what a bonsai should be (i.e. what a plant needs to look like in order to qualify as ‘a bonsai’). Then, if they’re anything like me, they will waste a lot of time in the (often brutal) process of trying to get a plant to conform to these preconceived notions of what it ‘should be’. In my experience, real learning begins with ‘unlearning’ what one believed one already knew (in this case, the schemata evoked by the term ‘bonsai’).

I think to view a ‘wild’ tree and think “That looks like a bonsai” suggests the existence of these precepts. It would perhaps be better to be able to view a ‘wild’ tree and think “that tree has a pleasing form that I might like to reflect in my bonsai”.




I don’t think we do grow miniature trees in the form of full sized trees. I think it’s more true to say that we grow trees that represent full sized trees. As John Naka said, “don’t try to make your tree look like a bonsai, try to make your bonsai look like a tree”.

Obviously, if we concentrated on size alone and just attempted to miniaturise trees to scale, it would present insurmountable problems (e.g. leaf size, bark texture etc.). So, we concentrate on proportion and perspective rather than scale and use visual tricks to confound the viewer’s subjective senses of proportion and perspective.

For example in bonsai, whilst the wider base of the trunk may move away from the viewer, the thinner, higher portion then sweeps forward towards the viewer. If you stand in front of a large tree with a straight (vertical) trunk in the wild, as your gaze moves up the trunk, the same thing appears to happen; the base appears a lot wider than the trunk higher up (even though the trunks of wild trees are often parallel) and seems to move away as the higher portion appears to loom forward over you. This is a trick of perspective that when physically recreated in a small tree suggests a much larger tree.

Along with tricks of perspective, like caricaturists, bonsai artists try to enhance those stereotypical elements in a bonsai that suggest size, proportion and age; a trunk flare that would rarely be found in nature (but that due to perspective makes the tree appear large), a gnarled bark, downward sweeping branches, rounded apices and so-on; characteristics that are found only in older, larger trees.

Bonsai really is an art of illusion. These tricks of perspective and caricature are used to make a relatively young and comparatively very small tree appear much older and larger. These techniques are basic to most and come even before other techniques peculiar to different styles and that evoke the environment surrounding the tree and the life history of the tree (cliff face, mountain top, open field, windswept ridge and so-on).

The end result in good bonsai aims to evoke a viewer’s schema for ‘tree’ (and often, it’s surroundings too) rather than their schema for ‘bonsai’, by presenting in artful harmony the basic representative characteristics of a ‘wild’ tree. The result is a subjective representation of a tree that allows the viewer to suspend easily objective disbelief and to slide easily into the illusion of a tree.




These rules are not really based on replicating a full sized tree in miniature, rather they are based on representing a full sized tree in miniature. I think there is a difference.

Defoliation, for example, is done to increase fine ramification and to reduce leaf size and also increases the overall number of leaves (due to the increased ramification). However, there is no way anyone could ever expect to get leaf size to scale on any bonsai. But that’s ok, because that’s not the objective. The objective is to present a few of the attributes that evoke the viewer’s schema for ‘tree’.

One of the characteristics of a ‘wild’ tree is that it has ‘many’ leaves. Another characteristic is outline. ‘Wild’ trees generally have a clearly defined outline (silhouette). In bonsai, defoliation decreases leaf size and increases ramification and overall number of leaves which together fulfil the ‘requirements’ of the ‘wild tree’ schema: ‘many leaves’ and ‘definite outline’.

So, the leaves on a bonsai don’t have to be to scale, they just have to be small enough to define an outline and numerous enough to suggest ‘many’ in the mind of a viewer. Larger leaves break up the outline and so break up the illusion. Even one incongruous large leaf on an otherwise well groomed bonsai makes it very hard for a viewer to accept the illusion, as those who have ever grown a sacrifice branch on a more mature bonsai will tell you.

I don’t really feel it has much to do with cultural or spiritual factors. Crossing branches in bonsai ‘jar’, whether one is Japanese, English, American or whatever.

I think it’s down to proportion again. A large wild tree can be beautiful and have crossing branches. But a large wild tree is large, and is not trying to represent anything other than what it is. It simply ‘is’ (and therein lies its beauty). However, a bonsai is trying to represent something. Moreover, it’s a lot smaller.

Even in wild trees, crossing branches, frog-leg trunks and so-on can appear ‘ugly’ to human sensibilities if these ‘flaws’ are large enough to impinge upon the overall impression. These elements make much more of a visual impact in bonsai than they do in the wild as bonsai are significantly smaller.

Moreover, as the idea of bonsai is essentially to get the viewer to ‘buy into the illusion’, we aim for flow and harmony. Primary, secondary, tertiary and quaternary branches all ‘flow’ along the same lines away from the trunk line. As long as the eyes of the viewer are allowed to flow with them, the illusion will hold. Where one branch or twig suddenly changes direction and moves towards the trunk, the viewer’s eyes are halted and the illusion is broken.

There is arguably no such thing as a perfect bonsai (it’s too subjective for ‘perfection’ to be a realistic objective anyway), but a lot of the cunning and skill in better bonsai is involved in hiding, including or, in some other way, dealing with the flaws inherent in most bonsai in such a way that they do not jar the eyes of the viewer and break the illusion. Thus, arguably, any bonsai in which the illusion of what it is trying to represent holds together for each viewer, is a perfect bonsai.

I think the no-moss-on-the-trunk thing is more a horticultural guide than aesthetic. Too much moss can inhibit ventilation and watering anyway, but moss growing up the trunk can do odd things too. It can turn the bark soggy and when the moss is removed, the bark below can fall away and what’s under it looks noticeably different to the bark higher up the trunk (and will do for years, depending on the type of tree).

Moss also provides a good hiding place for all sorts of insect larvae and non-beneficial fungi that can harm the tree, particularly if this ‘nasties nursery’ is held against the tree itself. On the more aesthetic side, if your tree has a good nebari, why obscure it with moss?



Summary (The Psychobiological Theory of Bonsai):

The function of bonsai techniques is not to create a miniature replica of a tree in the wild. It follows then that the ‘rules’ of bonsai were not formed with that objective in mind either.

The human senses are quite lazy and are very easily fooled. We say that there are many beautiful trees in the wild, and this is true, but there are many more that are not so beautiful (i.e. not rewarding to look at).

However, we don’t tend to notice or remember the not-so-beautiful ones. They get consigned to long-term memory without recall traces along with so many other mundane features of our immediate environments all the time (what colour is the front door of the house directly opposite yours? How many windows does the front of that house have?).

We tend to notice the more striking trees and those that we find pleasing (but which are arguably the exceptions to the rule). Moreover, as we find them rewarding to look at, we are much more likely to remember them.

Note that here I’m using the term ‘reward’ in its basic, biological sense, i.e. as providing pleasure by increasing activity in dopaminergic systems making up the reward centres of the brain. ‘Reward’ is an emotional response to a stimulus, mediated by the limbic brain, and is an extremely powerful reinforcement for behaviour (addiction is based upon the artificial activation of the neurological reward centres).

Those trees that we find rewarding to look at and so remember are the trees that we are trying to represent in bonsai, simply because they are rewarding to look at. Indeed, our initial (preattentive) evaluation of a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ bonsai is an emotional response. The intensity of that emotional response is directly related to the degree to which we find looking at it rewarding and is what determines the largely subjective difference between a ‘good’ bonsai and an ‘excellent’ bonsai.

The ‘rules’ of bonsai (or Penjing or hachi-no-ki or whatever you wish to call it) have been formed over hundreds of years with the aim of identifying those features of natural trees that provide the most reward. They show us how to represent those features and combine them harmoniously in a small tree in such a way that looking at it produces the same rewards, or even a more ‘pure distillation’ of them, in a tree small enough that we can have many of them, close to us in our own gardens.

Many of these rules are based upon the manipulation of rules of perspective and illusion. Look for example at the manipulation of the rules of perspective in da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper’. In bonsai, we manipulate the rules of perspective in similar ways in order to achieve effects that trees of bonsai size could not naturally show. This is evidenced by the fact that you never see trees in nature with the same proportions as a bonsai (e.g. 6:1 trunk calliper/height ratio) in the same way as in nature, you would not be able to see the table top in the last supper. The trunk ratio ‘rule’ in bonsai (and it is only a rule, it does not have to be exact) is a manipulation of perspective designed to fool the viewer into the illusion that they are standing close to the base of a large trunk that is growing up and shrinking towards vanishing point in the distance.

The trunk taper/calliper rules exist because it is very rewarding to look up at a magnificent mature tree, where looking at a little sapling is less so.

There is a current movement towards more naturalistic forms in bonsai led by people like Walter Pall. I have absolutely nothing against this at all. I quite like the naturalistic lines of trees I see in the English countryside. Nonetheless, even Mr. Pall will still utilise ‘rules’ in the development of these naturalistic trees. To abdicate all such rules completely would result simply in free growing saplings, shrubs or stumps in pots. In order for the trees Mr. Pall creates to be rewarding to look at (and they are), some basic rules of form must have been followed.

If a tree is not rewarding to look at then as a bonsai, it is utterly pointless. It does not serve the purpose for which it was created. For example, in an old post Walter Pall posted a picture of a gnarly old oak that he initially called ‘ugly’ but then in the post, he reflected on the merits of the tree upon closer examination. My point here is that subjective terms like ‘ugly’ and ‘beautiful’ are secondary adjectives used to try to put into words the degree of reward we feel from looking at a thing. In this case, although initially considered ‘ugly’, Mr. Pall found some reward in looking at the tree. Thus, ‘ugly’ can also be rewarding, which illustrates nicely the weakness of these subjective adjectives and that reward is the primary ingredient of a ‘good’ bonsai.

So, in essence, the ‘rules’ of bonsai exist simply to allow us to, or to show us how we can represent (rather than replicate) in our trees, the most rewarding characteristics of trees in nature, through the manipulation of rules of perspective and proportion and illusion. Ultimately, reward is the driving force.



NB The degree to which the views presented here are representative of the actual views of the author is inversely related to the degree to which they are likely to get him into trouble.

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Experience is knowledge gained immediately after it was needed.