by
Michael Rusnak
When
a friend booked a trip to Japan for his cultural studies class at Seminole State College in Florida, he
thought of me and my love for bonsai right away, and invited me to
tag along. Of course, any college study abroad class has a full
schedule of culturally important places on its itinerary, but he
assured me that I could strike out on my own on any day during the
trip. Despite my aversion to flying—and lengthy 12 hour flight—it
was definitely worth it to have a chance to go to the Bonsai Capital
of the World and see some of the great trees of Japan.
Since
we would spend most of the days in the cities of Tokyo and Kyoto, I
researched where I might find bonsai in those two areas. Internet
sites such as Bonsai Empire noted the “Bonsai Village” in the
city of Omiya, a 30 minute train ride from Tokyo, was an important
destination for bonsai enthusiasts. In addition to eight bonsai
nurseries, it now also has a museum dedicated to the art of bonsai.
The
Bonsai Village has an interesting history. After an earth quake in
1923 damaged many parts of Tokyo, including the nurseries, a group of
growers relocated to Omiya, where they could find favorable growing
conditions, good resources and convenient transportation. According
to the museum notes, 20 members formed the Bonsai Village in
1928 with four residency requirements:
1.
Possession of at least 10 bonsai
2.
Agreeing to open their gardens to the public
3.
No two story houses
4.
The use of hedge as live fencing
In
1936, the Village had 36 bonsai nurseries.
More
remarkable is the role the Village played in the preservation of the
art. During World War II, bonsai were considered a luxury item. But
the Village preserved their trees, and starting in 1946 offered
exhibitions ad other events over the next decades, including one at
the 1964 Tokyo Olympics to reintroduce and promote the art to the
world.
So
this place, the Bonsai Village Of Omiya, was the destination of my
bonsai pilgrimage.
Our
Japanese guide helped me plan my rout, which included a subway ride
to one of the main hubs where I would find a train from Tokyo to
Omyia. She also wrote out a neat little plan for me including
writing the names and numbers of the trains as well as the address of
the bonsai museum in Japanese, so that I could ask anybody for help
The
address she wrote out in to the museum turned out to be very helpful,
as one person after another pointed the way for this lost foreigner.
One woman walked with me for several blocks before she stopped and
pointed to a place where I needed to turn, and it lead me right to
the museum doors.
At
the Museum, I presented one of our Akron Canton Bonsai Society
cards, and incredibly, it wasn't long afterward that one of the
curators who spoke English caught up to me, introduced herself, and
gave me a personal tour of some of the important areas and trees in
their collection.
She
made sure that picked up a handy English version narration of the
history of each tree. She also pointed out some of the trees they
were most proud of in their collection, including a well-known quince
that was once belonged to a Prime Minister of Japan. She was very
interested in our club and enjoyed this connection. And I think she
showed more interest than the customary politeness. I believe she was
genuinely pleased to have one of our club logo pins.
The
museum had a terrific exhibit on the 1300 year history of bonsai, the
origin of the word itself, as well as the first appearances of potted
trees in artwork, and texts documenting bonsai's 700 years in Japan,
including the establishment of the Bonsai Village.
It
was easy to get lost in their collection of great bonsai, some
belonging to the museum as well as those of guest artists. The
museum has a large courtyard—like garden where many of its great
specimens are displayed. Many are so large in scale that it takes
two guys to move them. Some are more than four feet tall. You
can tell right away by from a distance that here is longevity, here
is something so old.
People
were welcoming and wanted to be sure I enjoyed my visit. Photos are
only permitted in specified areas, and while I was taking pictures of
some of those trees there, even the security guard there came over to
point out his favorite angle of a century old maple-- the underside,
looking up into the foliage where it absolutely recalled being under
a forest canopy. It also highlighted the massive fused roots of this
tree.
In
this place, aesthetic qualities of bonsai easily observed. The
tree's over all shape—foliage masses large and distinct over a
heavy trunk— catch your eye from a distance, leading you closer.
It has an allure all of its own. It is at this point that more
details become apparent. You notice the overall movement of the
trunk. Its curves and unexpected twists, as well as the heavy girth
and deep cracks and fissures in the trunk. You also see the multiple
layers of bark, like some fine pastry, layer on top of layer along
deep colors—and surprisingly gray to silver colors in the trunk.
Such things that mark their great age, make up their aesthetic
qualities.
In
contrast, the healthy and vibrant greens, a lot different greens
overlay such trunks. In addition to color, a contrast of textures
too is revealed. The foliage has a lightness of small ovals or
needles over the visual weight of the trunk. There is also a sense
of living and dead and a sense of its antiquity as bright foliage and
it shade rests over the parallel growth lines of bleached jin andshari.
This progression of the distant view of each tree's overall
triangular shape with an allure that brings you closer and closer was
repeated over and over again. It made you linger. I was truly moved.
I
couldn't help but to feel emotion at the sight of these old, ethereal
specimens. One striking species is the shimpaku junipers. This
tough species can survive on rugged mountain sides, and the harsh
environments create multiple twisted and undulating trunks and limbs.
Perhaps a harsh wind kills a piece of the tree. In its struggle to
survive, the plant pushes out buds in other or opposite directions to
seek the light and try to survive to the left or at another angle.
And so begins another turn in its movement. Over the
centuries some entire sections might die in the conditions, and many
of the shimpakus feature large, almost cork screw like dead wood
sections. These white trunk sections contrast in color with both the
dark living areas of the trunk and the species forest green foliage.
They are something to behold. Some of the trees that the
curator pointed out to me were ones that had been owned by famous
people in Japan. One was a tree from the personal collection of
a former prime minister, for example.
Another
unexpected surprise about the collection is that some of the trees
have been in training for so long that they have acquired names,
names that add a genuine sense of poetry about certain specimens with
a bit of magic or folk-lore of their own. Such names suggest
stories of struggles written in physical shapes, others celebrate
longevity, success and desire to live and survive in harsh
conditions--"Tree of a thousand ages" and "Tree of
Infinite Lengths." Another takes a named from its shape.
A large semi cascade pine called the “Blue Dragon.” In addition
to its resemblance to the creature, its colors are said to shift in
different light or if covered in rain or snow. This tree with
its strong horizontal trunk is depicted on one of the Museum's
banners.
One
shimpaku with a fantastically contorted, windswept mix of live and
dead veins under colorful foliage carries the name a “Celebration
of Clouds.”
While
nature formed many of these spectacular trunks, much of keeping the
foliage shaped--those umbrella-like or offset triangle-like canopies
and the plant health comes from the skill and vision of their bonsai
artists who work with them. It is a partnership between the
tree and the people who care for it.
Coming
back home, I have to admit many of my trees look sparse and almost
like a bad imitation by comparison. At the same time, I could see in
a few that they have more potential than I had previously imagined.
I've been rethinking the development of many of several of my own
trees, visualizing how they could also appear in a few seasons, and
asking myself what I could do differently.
This
is good for the trees as well. Our trees can outlive us. If they
become fine bonsai, the chances increase that they will be in the
possession of other bonsai people, passionate enough to learn to care
for them. After all, bonsai can be thought of as a partnership
between the tree and the people who care for it.
Asia's
bonsai tradition is old and ours is really just developing. Here in
this small city in Japan where bonsai was a part of daily life, they
have such a great collection. Seeing these world class trees made me
realize what we are working toward and the kind of quality that all
of us in our Akron Canton club are striving to perhaps eventually
achieve. Bonsai is one of Asia's gifts to the world. They inspire.
They show us what we might create here. In that sense they also
invite us to reach further into this great art form.
One of the great things that the art of bonsai does, is that it brings ordinary things up to eye level, and in that way it forces you to notice details that might otherwise be overlooked, details like the delightful colors and translucency of the foliage. The steep light angles also can highlight the textures of the trunk on the older bonsai which can be seen in some of the photos. 
