I like the new version of the Chinese quince. I like the way it's shaping up. It is true enough that the only finished bonsai is a dead one, but with this bonsai we are talking about a specimen that is still in a state of intentional design transition. The quince hasn't been on display in the garden for more than five years. That by itself is an indication that the tree is not deemed showable — not ready to be presented to the public as a fully realized bonsai.

It's close, though. If the quince has its usual outstanding autumn color display, it may find its way out to a bench in the garden later this year just so people can enjoy the bright red leaves. Handling this specimen in such fashion would be similar to when we put out a blooming azalea simply for its floral display. Otherwise, what our Chinese quince lacks is just a little more time to develop into its new form. The tree is actively growing now as I write this in mid-July, and could very well have yet another flush of growth after the new shoots being produced now are pruned back. That might be enough to fill out the canopy of the tree to an acceptable degree. We will see about that.

Here is a detailed, in-the-round sequence of photos showing the quince as it currently looks (click on any image for full view):

A concept I have come to embrace is that a bonsai should be styled so that it looks as good as possible from all perspectives. There will likely still be a particular view that the person presenting the bonsai thinks is the best way to see it, and that will be how the tree is shown. On another day, however, the tree might be more appreciated from a different perspective and that view will take a turn being the “front.” A round pot facilitates such flexibility. When I look at the above images, I see multiple acceptable ways to present this bonsai.

The style of the current pot, a fine piece of work by Minnesota potter Sara Rayner, works well with the quince as it now looks. To my eye, the size and shape of the pot acts as a counterbalance to the canopy of the tree, mitigating the top-heavy feeling I thought this specimen had before. The pot also makes the idea of having greater interest in the ground plane — the shrubs and stones that used to be part of this specimen’s identity — no longer practicable. Those embellishments are not as necessary now, anyway.

A friend commented to me in private that they thought the problem child Chinese quince was getting "outsize consideration" in this series of Journal articles. It's hard to argue when my original intention was that this specimen would be covered in a single entry. When working on the initial entry it became apparent that there was enough material for two entries, and when working on the second it proved necessary to have a third. Like a scene out of the movie Groundhog Day, the same thing happened when I was writing the third entry. Readers should have no fear that a fifth entry will be forthcoming.

A fact that hadn't been so obvious before gradually became more evident to me while revisiting the history of this tree. Our Chinese quince bonsai seems to have served me as a personal gateway to naturalism. Naturalism in this context refers to a bonsai style, just as classical, neoclassical and modern are also bonsai styles. Most bonsai people I know either don't think these stylistic categories are true or don't think about them, period. This subject will receive more scrutiny in the future, but for now it will suffice to state that this particular bonsai curator thinks naturalism is a thing. Years of working with our Chinese quince bonsai helped me get there.

To begin with, when I first designed this bonsai I was observing the natural example and trying to communicate what I saw. That is the very essence of bonsai naturalism. Because I was in effect scabbing-on naturalistic elements (ascending branches and a longer, thinner trunk line) to a classical bonsai design scheme, I ended up with a hybrid form. It wasn't a bad effort, but it wasn't a satisfying one, either. I later came to realize I had unwittingly undermined a carefully construed compositional construct. Classical bonsai design takes a tree out of its natural context and isolates it, but the proportions of the tree are manipulated in order to allow the subject to stand on its own and be compositionally sound. The tree I made out of the Chinese quince was a legitimate interpretation of a tree in nature, but it was not compositionally sound. It did not stand comfortably on its own. I tried to mitigate the problem by providing more visual interest in the ground plane, once again taking my cue from observation of nature. This was only somewhat effective. I finally decided to remove a large portion of the tree's canopy and rebuild it.

By the time of the drastic pruning back I had come a long way in my understanding of naturalistic bonsai. Some of what I learned came from conversations with two of the premier naturalistic bonsai artists — Walter Pall of Germany and Dan Robinson of the United States. The rest of my naturalistic bonsai education came from looking, thinking and doing.

I learned how to design bonsai from the ground up using only naturalistic principles, and now I would not choose to do bonsai any other way. It was too late to do this with the Chinese quince. Instead, after carving away a large chunk of its original structure, I regrew the tree following the mechanics of tree biology. Trees in nature are frequently messed up. That is to say, they start out with one structure and then a natural occurrence causes great damage. Sometimes the tops of trees are torn off in hellacious storms, or every limb is removed and nothing remains but a trunk. Sometimes such cataclysmic events result in a dead tree. Often enough, devastated trees survive and over time rebuild themselves. Trees have been biologically equipped by evolution to do just that.

When I removed the upper portion of the Chinese quince, I was playing the part of a cataclysmic event. With a saw and cutters I provided the stimuli that prompted the tree to send out new parts with which to rebuild itself. (Even describing what happened in such a manner is a product of naturalistic thinking!) The artistry involved comes with a human taking what the plant provides and fast-forwarding the sequence of events to tell a story of what happened after the cataclysmic episode: A terrible storm... great damage... the tree struggles to survive. New shoots sprout out of old wood, the sprouts elongate, they move toward the sun. Over time the sprouts lignify, attain greater heft, becoming branches. Ceaselessly tracking toward the light, they move up and down, back and forth, this way and that, building structure as they go. Other events cause further damage and the replacement limbs grow replacement limbs of their own. Years go by and the tree gradually rebuilds itself, creating new form, taking on a character that reflects the struggle of life. That is exactly the story I've been working on for the last five years with this Chinese quince. It's a story about the experience of a tree in nature, based on observation of trees in nature. Seems natural enough to refer to it as naturalism.

Oh, there is so much more to say about all this. We will get to all of it in future Journal entries, eventually. I suspect at this point you have heard enough about the problem child Chinese quince.

It's not possible to know what other people think. Even if someone tells you what they're thinking, they might accidentally (or intentionally) misrepresent themselves or you might misunderstand what they're trying to say. People often withhold their opinions. Then you can't be certain if they say nothing because they aren't thinking much about the topic at hand, or they doubt their own idea, or they are simply being polite and seeking to avoid conflict.

For instance, I do not know what other people think about the current version of the problem child Chinese quince bonsai as compared to its original incarnation:

Certainly, the appearance of the tree has changed considerably. I have no idea what the better or worse? determination might be if the matter were put to a vote among people who care one way or the other. I expect there would be people on either side of the question because viewpoints vary on just about any topic brought up for discussion. The question of like or dislike? is, by its nature, subjective.

What do you think?

The Problem Child - Part 4