Of Art and Bonsai Techniques
On hedge pruning, the Japanese method and other controversial topics in bonsai apprenticeship
In a November 27, 2019 podcast, Bjorn Bjorholm takes stock of the hateful or aggressive messages he has received about a topic that fascinates and divides bonsai enthusiasts: the hedge pruning technique. More implicitly, it opposes proponents of this technique, promulgated primarily by Walter Pall, who promotes it in its communications and is repeated on various specialized websites, particularly in North America.
I would like to comment on that — not so much about the particular technique of hedge pruning, but about the three implications that flow from it:
1. A degradation in the attitude of the bonsai community.
2. An illusion of auto didacticism — from the respect of the Sensei and its method toward the quick gratification of self-proclaimed experts.
3. The impoverishment of discourse and aesthetic reflection.
A degradation in the attitude of the bonsai community
The bonsai community is expanding considerably around the world. The advent of social media, blogs and YouTube channels has had a double effect.
On the one hand, an extraordinary and free access to a deep, information and training resources. When I started doing bonsai in 1999, I could only, to train and improve myself and my practice, access masters or magazines. I found some “Bonsai Today” or Japanese magazines at the Montreal Botanical Garden Library. Some self-taught enthusiasts animated the community and passed on their knowledge. It was magic and a tad mysterious.
Everyone understood the time, training and refinement this art form took. Most importantly, it took a lot of humility. The characteristic spirit of the time was based on strong mutual aid, a real effort of interactive improvement. The comments and the people were always positive and fiercely encouraging.
On the other hand, alas, as in other sectors of online life, the immediate accessibility to knowledge has created two perverse effects: the impression that everything can be learned and controlled by Youtube and the possibility of expressing opinions on everything.
We are left with a general degradation of tone in the debate; from the exchange of ideas between knowledgeable people, we slip into verbal brawls between motivated neophytes. The forums are full of trolls, in bonsai as on sports and politics websites. The sad thing is that the opinion of real and venerable experts is relegated to the same level as that of beginners. This is the main difference between critics and stage managers.
An illusion of auto didacticism — from the respect of the Sensei and its method toward the quick gratification of self-proclaimed experts
Bonsai as an art form does not differ from other arts and by extension, from any form of human activity requiring many years of improvement. Here are many examples.
Medicine requires more than a decade of training for the best minds in our societies. Yet, a growing number of patients self-diagnose on Google, yet will argue with their specialist. Rather than calmly discussing the well-being of the patient, the meeting turns to confrontation and pedagogy, because the specialist must first convince his patient of his competence and only then process toward the core purpose of the meeting: healing oneself.
The classical piano requires at least 10 years of sustained practice and weekly private lesson to master the great oeuvres of the repertoire. However, many musicians with whom I did my higher studies in music must now correct, sometimes deconstruct, techniques learned on Youtube to “save time”. To this day, no single individual has ever come close to make it to a mere price at a piano contest self trained. It just doesn’t happen.
Tennis or golf are sports requiring absolutely perfect techniques to not only get on the tour but to stay healthy. However, my friends at the Canadian Tennis Center in Montreal are increasingly confronted by parents who are frustrated with the “slowness” of the process — they want their children to win Wimbledon at age 15, and have collected examples of best practices from around the world, which could move them faster. Most of the time, the kids hurt their tiny bodies and end their careers abruptly.
This attitude, which claims to be able to go beyond rigorous and demanding training, is a form of intellectual fraud, but it is not peculiar to the world of bonsai. In all spheres of our society, we see the emergence of these motivated or anxious people, always in a hurry, often very intelligent, who do not have the modesty, the patience or the humility to follow courses that are nevertheless required in many sectors.
For example, obtaining a PhD is neither easy nor quick. It is a title conferred by a credible and recognized institution: the University. In addition, they are not all equivalent; all degrees are not equal. Getting a Ph.D. from Harvard, which has 63 Nobel Prizes since 2001, obviously gives moral authority to its holder. There is something indecent to claim to debate as equals with such luminaries after watching some clips on Youtube or read some articles on Google Scholars on their field of expertise.
Obstinate a piano teacher on a technique when this person has traveled the world and played in the biggest concert halls, insult his tennis teacher who represented Romania in Fed Cup or refuse a treatment prescribed by his doctor on the basis of some readings seem to me a damaging behaviour.
On the one hand, in addition to scorning the individual, this attitude despises the institution. The pursuit of excellence implies a method and a time that oppose shortcuts and simplism. On the other hand, it reduces the value of the work and the Art of the Masters and assumes that all opinions are of equal worth.
My position is often opposed to Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hour rule in Outliers, but this rule only works in cases where structures are strict, such as classical music, chess or tennis. In other words, the number of years of practice applies if one admits that the Art of bonsai meets a set of rules and strict techniques. If the bonsai is not a form of art and is a “potted tree”, then of course all the techniques are worth it.
One institution’s reputation (winning Wimbledon, playing at Carnegie Hall, getting a PhD, etc.) comes from the rigidity of its filter. The aesthetic power of certain forms of art, or the admiration for great human accomplishment, comes from the fact that they have succeeded in spite of the filter, the demanding grid of selection. If everyone wins Wimbledon, it loses all interest. If everyone can get a PhD on Youtube, it’s worthless.
I understand that today, having millions of subscribers on social media has value. This is the big dilemma in the art world today: is artistic value measured on the basis of copies sold or on aesthetic criteria and some mastery?
Personally, I am captivated by what I am not able to do. For example, I cook very well, in the sense that I can succeed any recipe of a book and even, to improvise good tasty dishes. I am a “cook”, but I would never pretend to be a chef.
From Sensei to “autodidactism”
Why piss off for 6 years with a Sensei in Japan before being a professional? It’s so much faster to do everything yourself! After all, you can do everything on Youtube, even learn the trombone and renovate your bathroom!
Anyway, Ryan Neil and Bjorn Bjorholm told us on Youtube; for years, we do not do anything very interesting in Japan, and in addition our Sensei does not speak to us, we sleep in a mini apartment and we only swipe the floor without being paid.
Why go study cooking in Paris with a Michelin-starred chef instead of watching Gordon Ramsay, we can achieve anything we want? It’s hell, a kitchen in France. Everyone screams on anyone, we suffocate in cramped kitchens for endless hours. No, seriously man, cooking schools and hospitality institutes, it’s a waste of time. We go straight and we open a French restaurant.
It is amusing to read criticisms of the rigidity of Japanese bonsai masters or French chefs. Hermetic environments, closed, authoritarian and despotic personalities. They always come from those who have never been there.
Like stage managers who know better than the head coach what to do to win the Stanley Cup, but have never been able to break into the junior ranks.
Bonsai in Japan is an institution, like cooking in France. It is demanding, difficult and extremely competitive. It’s serious. If I were a young Japanese hockey enthusiast and wanted to live my dream and achieve excellence, there is only one choice: play in Canada. It’s the NHL or nothing. A young ambitious cook goes to Paris. A ballet dancer to Moscow and a pianist to Berlin. Learning to cook online and hoping to win a Grand Title of Pastry in France is a joke.
Learning an art, or achieving excellence in any field, seems to me to be the combination of three factors:
1. A recognized Master;
2. A demanding environment;
3. Long years of practice and development.
This is why I have always been unimpressed by the mere argument of time spent practicing art. Making me say “I’ve been doing this for 20 years” has never impressed me. Especially if you spend 20 years wrongdoing.
The impoverishment of discourse and aesthetic reflection
We are living an interesting time with regard to the discourse on Art, the criticism of Art and the aesthetic value. I have a higher education in classical music (Conservatory in classical piano, composer graduated from the University of Montreal), my brother has a theatre company and goes around the world with his shows, being a reference in the theatre of objects, and of course, I remain very interested in the artistic thing — bonsai being my current mode of expression.
Art criticism has been slipping for the last 20 years from a tight, structured, evidence-based discourse to succinct, universal, and impulsive coverage.
During my studies, rarely a critic of music, painting or theatre was satisfied. And these critics knew their business! Partition by hand, Claude Gingras could justify why the tempi were too slow. Robert Lévesque could explain why such staging of Becket was missed, and so on.
It was hard for the artists, sometimes devastating. But apart from some slippages, the critics were right because based on Art. We debated the aesthetic choice, the position on interpretation, sometimes the techniques.
Today, critics have become either pedagogues or mascots. We take half of the 700 words allocated to explain the work and the other half to say how extraordinary it is. Criticism has become promotion. “Go see that, it’s beautiful. It threw me to the ground”. Well you know what dude, I absolutely do not care about your emotion.
The discourse on art is increasingly occupied by neophytes, self proclaimed specialists with questionable writing (and thinking ) skills, which ultimately considerably impoverishes the debate. The aesthetic bases are too important between artists, who make art, and commentators, who have become generalists. I repeat myself, but it’s important: all opinions are not equal.
It is therefore necessary to clarify my thought on the arguments raised at the beginning of the article.
A bonsai professional is a person who makes a living with bonsai. This person may or may not be a Sensei. A Sensei is a Master. A reference, a guide and a curator who can hand the “savoir faire” to its pupils. He may or may not be professional (i.e. earn lots of money with bonsai), but he has the particularity to have been trained rigorously by other Masters, and to be recognized by his peers. He has the “badge”. The transmission of art is important.
Ryan Neil, Bjorn Bjorholm, Matt Reel or Michael Hagedorn are Masters. They are also pro. Unlike other pros, their successful passage between the narrow grids of the Japanese formation gives them a credibility and a moral authority that some Western professors just do not have.