Black Pine Progression - Part 1

Black pine, often called Japanese black pine (Pinus thunbergii), is a traditionally-preferred species for bonsai use. It is native to coastal Japan and South Korea and is known for its tolerance to salt spray, so it is often used in landscaping where that is an issue. In bonsai use, the black pine is most appreciated for its ability to produce a second flush of growth in a single growing season, which sets it apart from other pines that will grow only once each year. Techniques have evolved for using the second flush of growth as a means of producing much shorter needles than the three- to six-inch foliage typical of black pines growing in the ground.

The particular black pine specimen we look at now was part of the original donation from the Staples family in Butner, North Carolina, which started the Arboretum's bonsai enterprise in 1992. Any bonsai will naturally change over the course of decades as the plant grows and matures, but this pine has also evolved in accordance with changes in the way bonsai is thought of and practiced here at the Arboretum. In that regard this tree can be viewed as emblematic of our bonsai program and the philosophy behind it.

Here is a picture of the pine as it was when we received it:

I should clarify my prior statement by pointing out that all the bonsai in the initial donation were received in an unkempt condition, many of them in decline, due to unfortunate circumstances for which no one should be held to blame. The above picture actually shows the tree after it was cleaned up, trimmed and repotted. Even with the benefit of that recovery work this pine still showed evidence of having been grown in poor conditions, probably with too much water and too little sunlight. What design development it might have had at one time has, at the time of this photo, been lost due to neglect.

The first order of business was to recover the health of the tree. This was accomplished by giving it full sun exposure, careful watering and good fertilization, with no pruning or any attempt made at restyling. Toward the end of the first growing season in 1993, the tree looked like this:

The next available image is from two years later, in 1995:

The tree shows much better health at this point, as well as evidence of some training to define branch structure. Work has also begun on continuing the line of the trunk and creating a top. I had become unhappy with the base of the tree because it lacked any visible surface roots on the right side. My response to that perceived problem was to do an approach graft on that side, using another, younger black pine, and that second tree is visible in the photo. The idea was to get the young tree to graft to the larger one down low at the base. Then, once that occurred, the upper part of the young tree would be removed, leaving only its lowest portion as an addition to the larger tree's base. I must have read about this somewhere, but I hadn't tried it before.

In this 1997 image the tree has been drastically thinned out and wired up:

As I look now at what I was doing, I think it was unwise to have continued the zig-zag pattern of the trunk line in such a geometrically predictable way. Also, the branches are shown to be fully wired, but their shape is rigid and their placement predictable. In my defense, I was learning as I went and the books I was reading seemed to suggest that this was the correct thing to do. It's not necessarily a "bad" look, but it seems obviously contrived in its appearance to me now. Note, too, that the upper part of the approach graft tree has been removed, leaving behind the base and its roots to help fill the void on the right side of the larger tree's lower trunk. Unfortunately, in time it proved that the graft did not take and this attempt at improvement was a failure. Again, I was learning as I went, and no true learning takes place without mistakes.

The next picture I made of this tree wasn't until 2003, enough time for noticeable change to have occurred:

Black pines do not grow as vigorously as maples, for example, but they are nonetheless strong growers when healthy. This one filled out in the course of six years, although it also looks to me like it was getting only minimal refinement work during that interval. Part of the reason it may have been a little neglected is that the other more vigorously growing trees demanded more attention. They get noticeably overgrown more quickly and that prompts the grower to spend more time with them in order to keep them looking good. Pines are more in the slow and steady mode of growth, which can lead to their being overlooked until the accumulation of growth over an extended period finally becomes noticeable. This dynamic can be exacerbated by having a large collection with a great variety of species — which we do.

Three more years passed before I again photographed this black pine, another indication of its status as a somewhat overlooked member of the collection. But this image from 2006 shows it on display in the brand new bonsai garden, so I must have thought something of it:

The tree in this photo has filled out to the point of being overgrown, the foliage appearing way too big and heavy. As I see it now, the tree looks like nothing so much as a caricature of a classical black pine bonsai, one that might be pictured in the pages of a Japanese book or magazine. That is to say, it looks like it's trying to be something it's not and can't come close to measuring up. An embarrassing admission since I'm the one who shaped it that way.

Ideas change over time. My ideas about shaping bonsai have changed a great deal in the years since the photograph in the garden, but they were already beginning to change at that time. I remember feeling more and more dissatisfied with this pine, with its zig-zag trunk and rigid limbs set in a predictable pattern that looked nothing at all like any pine tree I had ever seen in nature. It took a long time to build that bonsai, however, and to change it would require some drastic alterations that would likely set the tree back a decade or so. Whenever considering such a move you have to question if the end result would warrant the effort. Every tree has a certain limited capacity for perfection. By that I mean any given tree can look only so good, can get only so close to what might be thought of as ideal. It's the old "can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear" syndrome. Then, too, people have limitations themselves, so the appearance of a bonsai is constricted on one side by what is possible for the tree and on the other by what is possible for the person shaping it.

“Every tree has a certain limited capacity for perfection. By that I mean any given tree can look only so good, can get only so close to what might be thought of as ideal.”

By the way, I had arrived at an alternate solution for what I had perceived as a problem at the base of the tree on the right side. After the approach graft failed, I decided to accept it the way it was and not feel bad about it.

Having said all that stuff about recognizing limitations and being accepting, I add that neither is it a virtue to be complacent. In November of 2008 I brought this black pine into the shop and spent some time with it. Though working on it only a few hours, I had spent the better part of two years looking over the tree and thinking about other options. (Another old saying — "measure twice and cut once" — might be good enough for carpentry, but in bonsai the stakes are higher.) In addition to a thorough reduction of the overall foliage mass, this redesign session resulted in the top of the tree being thinned out considerably and the first branch on the right being removed entirely. All remaining branches were wired and shaped so as to introduce greater movement in them, while fighting against their tendency to ascend at the tips. Mostly I was aiming to shake things up with this bonsai, to see where its limitations, and mine, might be. One thing I knew for sure — this black pine was done trying to look like the ones in the book.

To be continued …