How did you get started? The two major themes of my life have been a fascination with the natural world and art, or more accurately, a desire to create things that possess the quality of beauty, whatever that is. I got hooked on growing things in my early teens. Cacti, air plants, insectivores and just about anything else with an unusual or interesting appearance. My first experience of bonsai was through watching the Chelsea flower show on TV in the late seventies and I still remember being enthralled by the images of miniature trees. I guess these may well have belonged to Peter Chan. I hadn’t really thought any more about them until I came across a bonsai book written by Paul Lesniewicz at my local garden centre. Thumbing through his book I realized that bonsai was a combination of both of my favourite pastimes and I pretty much decided on the spot that this would be a good thing to spend my life doing.
Beech This tree began as a very poor piece of material but is now one of my best trees. The pot is by John Pitt
How did you learn about bonsai? Initially I bought and read, cover to cover, every bonsai book I could get my hands on. These included books by Peter Chan, Ann Swinton, Dan Barton, Peter Adams, Harry Tomlinson, whose trees I particularly admired and John Naka. I joined the Bristol bonsai society briefly in the late eighties but at the time it had around 270 members and the meetings were, by necessity, rather formal and so I drifted away. I do remember Dan Barton being very encouraging, and I am still grateful for the determination this gave me to persevere at a point where I thought I might never get the hang of it. At that time I was in my early twenties and struggling to keep my trees alive and healthy due to the demands of my other commitments, mainly girls and alcohol. Trees in pots I discovered, were not nearly so forgiving of neglect as cacti and air plants. Much of the material that passed through my hands in those early years proceeded swiftly on to the great forest in the sky. Who was your teacher? I usually say that I am self taught, mostly through a great deal of trial and error. A painfully slow process, but it has led, I think, to my trees being relatively unique. To begin with I was very reluctant to allow anyone to see my trees until I felt they were good enough to merit some attention. So for almost twenty years I avoided showing my trees to anyone. I don’t suppose I am the only person who does not relish the thought of having my much-loved bonsai pulled apart aesthetically after devoting years of time and energy to their care and training. And bonsai enthusiasts are quite a tough audience. This is not a complaint. Although I doubt I will ever accept criticism kindly I have learned to use this character flaw on my part to my advantage. The knowledge that any unharmonious arrangement of foliage, unconvincing branch-work or ugly focal point will be pointed out is quite aggravating, but it can also be as effective a tutor as any harsh master might be. I have an informal rule I like to follow. If three separate individuals make the same identical criticism of one of my trees then I will consider doing something about it. So I guess you could say I have been tutored to some extent by the bonsai community as a whole.
Boulevard This tree is an attempt to recreate a giant redwood
Do you belong to a bonsai club? These days I belong to the South Devon bonsai club. It is fair, and hopefully also polite, to say that there is probably several centuries worth of experience within the club. Even after forty years of growing bonsai I learn something new every time I go. The value of the bonsai that are grown by enthusiasts at a club level is not fully appreciated. I find it fascinating to see and discuss trees with other members and to discover how a tree arrived at its current form, often over many years and frequently via an unintended path, the end of which is still ahead of it. I think this continual balancing act between intent and accident is what makes bonsai really interesting and what sets it apart from other arts. When working with a living medium the outcome of our efforts cannot be known with certainty. Those who grow bonsai this way, over many years and simply for their own satisfaction, free of the necessity to make money from their work, practise a form of bonsai that is probably truer to its likely origins among the Buddhist monks of the East. Your thoughts on bonsai or dreams? Bonsai appeals to all kinds of people of all ages who may not necessarily have any desire to own one, they simply enjoy seeing them. I think bonsai has a much larger potential audience than it currently reaches. I am a creative, I flit from one project to another like a butterfly from flower to flower, I do not possess the necessary commitment or endurance to organise a big show. But if I did I’d organise a ‘Mini Worlds’ exhibition which might include bonsai alongside, model railways, dolls houses, miniature artworks, landscapes in fish tanks and all manner of other tiny pursuits. I reckon you could easy fill the Birmingham exhibition centre with people who would like to see that. I feel that bonsai takes itself just a bit too seriously sometimes. Do you consider Bonsai an art form? I’m an artist, I practice bonsai as an art and so for me it is an art. But like ceramics it can also be regarded as a craft. The mass produced, formulaic bonsai sold by garden centres are certainly not art, they are as far from the creations of Sandro Segneri or Kevin Wilson as a tea cup is from the works of Grayson Perry. But Grayson Perry and the machine that made the tea cup both do ceramics I believe the central focus of bonsai as an art should always be to try to encapsulate the gravity and magnitude of a huge ancient tree in miniature, but at the same time I don’t see why we shouldn’t also push the boundaries a little. Bonsai translates simply as tree in pot. As long as it is comprised of a woody plant in a vessel of some kind, for me, it’s a bonsai.
Yew Graveyard yew trees are one of the UK’s best sources of inspiration
Do you have a favourite species or size? When asked if I have a favourite tree or species I always reply that my favourite is variety. My bonsai nightmare would be to live in the tropics where bonsai often grow and require the same treatment all year round and then to own only fig trees. I think that scenario would quickly become very tiresome to me. I grow a wide variety of species in many styles and enjoy the challenge of working with different species. I have tried to make bonsai out of some unlikely material. Mostly these are duds but they still have a place on my benches and I always learn something from the attempt. In terms of size, the majority of my bonsai are between 60 and 90cm. I am attracted to this scale for two reasons. My bonsai have to be of a size that allows me to include sufficient detail and creative appeal and also of a weight that I can comfortable lift by myself. I regard growing really big bonsai as a kind of cheating as this largely avoids having to learn one of the most basic skills of bonsai, miniaturisation. Isn’t that what its all about? On the other hand I have never been interested in growing shohin or mame. For me, trees of this scale simply lack sufficient presence to hold my attention for long, however beautifully executed they may be.
Carved trunk The form of a church yew has invariable been subject to human intervention, sometimes over thousands of years. The carving of this trunk hints at this fact.
Why do you practice bonsai? I’ve dabbled in a few creative arts, horticultural curiosities and other practical skills during my lifetime but bonsai has been the only constant. The one thing that has always re-captured my attention. It is partly the continuous seasonal change that a bonsai undergoes and the potential for endless improvement in a tree’s image and even, I sometimes think, the setbacks and disappointments one must necessarily experience when growing bonsai. These things continually renew my enthusiasm for the art, but the simple truth is that I still practice bonsai because I have become attached to my trees. After forty years in my care, often from seeds or match thick cuttings, they have become like old friends whose continued existence I am responsible for. As my living creations I find it very difficult to part with them. They will always be works in progress. It is this more than anything else that has kept me on the hook for so long. However I am finding, as all life long bonsai buffs surely must, that I am confronted with the cold hard fact that whilst they continue to grow bigger and heavier, I am beginning to shrink. Recently, reluctantly, I have begun to think I may even have to start growing shohin………... Or maybe chuhin?
Do you have a favourite bonsai? No, but I’d say that you could tell from the positions of trees on my benches who’s currently in favour and which I’m trying to hide
Do you have a favourite potter? I don’t have a favourite potter, for me its just about getting the perfect tree pot combination whilst also trying to avoid making the obvious choice. Even to me this sounds a bit daft as the obvious choice is most likely the best pot for the tree. But I simply can’t ignore the urge to explore new ideas and come up with novel combinations and this creative bent in me tends to override the sensible option. The result is that of the 30 or 40 presentable bonsai that I own only around half a dozen are in pots that I am completely happy with. One of the best things about bonsai in Europe is that we are willing to be inventive in our choice of pots. I learned to make pots myself almost 30yrs ago but until now I have not lived in a situation where I have been settled enough to really get stuck into making them.
Haw This pot by Dan Barton is a perfect match for the tree
What mistakes have you made? I’ve made too many mistakes to count but the things I got wrong are as much a part of the current appearance of my trees as the things I did right. In fact, if it weren’t for the occasional cock-up with a chisel or horticultural disaster I suspect my trees might be quite bland. It is the solutions we find to the mistakes we make that become the story of the tree. Over hundreds or even thousands of years a wild tree is subject to countless attacks and misfortunes. Having endured them all, each of these unfortunate events is recorded within the structure of the tree and it is ultimately this that provides a great old tree with its unique form, its presence and its soul. The same is true for a bonsai. Short of killing your tree there are no unmitigated mistakes, only unexpected opportunities. Have you experienced bonsai abroad? I have had very little experience of bonsai abroad. However I do have some experience of wild trees abroad. I have always made a point of visiting old trees wherever I have travelled. I have had the privilege of seeing some of Africa’s huge baobabs, climbing a 230ft karri in Australia and standing amongst the giant redwoods of North America. These are some of my most cherished memories. Can you recommend one or two bonsai books? The book I found most useful when I first got started was called, The Essentials of Bonsai. It was a translation of a book written by four Japanese authors if I remember correctly. I highly recommend this book if you are just getting started and are actually still able to get it. Its the book I always loaned to people I met who wanted to grow bonsai. Unfortunately I loaned it to someone, I have since forgotten who, and have never seen it again. The other book you’d have found my nose in over and over again was John Naka’s, Bonsai Techniques I. John took his inspiration directly from nature rather than from other bonsai trees. An approach I have always admired.
Aborigine This tree was styled as a result of a visit to Australia which involved some long walks in the woods. In Australia trees are burned rather than weathered but the results are equally spectacular
What is your best achievement? I’d say the thing I am most proud of is having developed all my trees from scratch. I have never been able to afford to buy a bonsai I liked and I simply wasn’t interested in buying one I didn’t. So I used whatever material I could lay my hands on and just kept at it. I have never exhibited my trees to win prizes as I believe formal judging tends to restrict innovation and discourage creativity and inventiveness. But it does feel good to get a bit of recognition from time to time and I value most highly the people's choice awards as this seems a more democratic and less predictable way of measuring an art, if we must. Do you have any future ambitions or goals? In the long run I would like to expand the perception of what it is acceptable to exhibit at a bonsai show. I’m working on some original pot designs and new bonsai styles that depart a little from the accepted forms of bonsai but they’re not quite ready to show anyone yet. If you are going to present people with something novel it must I think be executed to the highest standard one is able to achieve and with bonsai this takes a long time. I’m also in the process of writing a book focusing on some of the 30 to 40yr case histories of my trees and creative innovation in bonsai.
Haematite This tree bends the boundaries of bonsai a little. The idea was to create something that might have some sculptural value after the demise of the tree
Over the years what has been your favourite bonsai show? The show I never miss is the Winter Image. It began as the Swindon club’s annual event, originally intended to show off the fine quality of the deciduous trees developed by its members but it has slightly reluctantly become a national show. It's been running for as long as any major show and I think the guys who have kept it going for so many years at no benefit to themselves and in spite of a few setbacks, deserve a good slap on the back.
Juniper This tree is a tanuki. All it cost was time. About fifteen years worth of it.
Do you have any other interests or hobbies? I have been an environmentalist for most of my life and I spent a few years living in trees or in protest camps during the 90’s. These days I’m involved with some more positive projects. I organize a walking group where people can meet and share their knowledge of the natural world with others and I’m also a keen advocate of the quiet revolution that is presently going on within our gardens. Once my work mostly involved paving over the soil in some way or other, now I get asked to build wildlife ponds or living roofs and help to re-establish native flowers in peoples gardens instead of calling them weeds and trying to poison them. Witnessing this change in peoples thinking gives me a little optimism for our future.
Willow This is my weeping willow as it looked when shown at the Noelanders Trophy over ten years ago
Willow This is the same tree in 2022. It has undergone more transformations than any tree I own having been with me for forty years
What is it you enjoy most about bonsai? Bonsai is a dynamic art practised through time, not just a three, but a four dimensional art, it is a feedback system with an indefinite goal. Or to put it less cryptically, by trying to make art using a living medium, in this case a tree, we cannot know exactly what it is we are going to create. We are not fully in control and whatever we do create is but a fleeting image. In time the tree outgrows our designs and we must grow with it and reinvent our bonsai time and again over the course our lives or be left behind by them. Bonsai continually challenges us to find solutions to new problems. At its best bonsai is a kind of conversation in form. A question may be asked through the removal of a branch or by the thinning of winter buds, etc. and the tree answers by developing new growth in response to our actions. We observe this response, refine our actions accordingly and communicate our intent to the tree with a pair of scissors. I sometimes describe bonsai as a long silent argument with a tree. It is by means of this conversation in form that a bonsai’s development proceeds, creeping ever closer to some hazy unattainable idea of the perfect embodiment of an ancient tree. Bonsai is a process not a product, a direction not a destination. Getting your head fully around this concept is perhaps the hardest part of bonsai. Achieving it can help us to develop patience, perseverance, tolerance and reverence for the fragility of life, among other things. This I suspect is what interested those Buddhist monks who first practised it and it is this that I most enjoy about bonsai.