Here's what Michael Hagedorn wrote about this tree.... "My teacher’s juniper from the 2010 Sakafu show has been my favorite since it first came into his studio in 2006, and I was in my last year apprenticing there. The delicacy and naturalness of this meter-high tree has always left me spellbound.
"He had clients calling him nonstop asking about it, one of them was so insistent he called a couple times a day, wanting to buy this tree. But Suzuki was determined to save this tree for the Sakafu, and waited and trained it four years before entering it in the professional show. Some of you may remember this tree from photos in my book Post-Dated: The Schooling of an Irreverent Bonsai Monk."
This interview first appeared here on Bonsai Bark in February, 2009. I've added some photos and captions, but otherwise, it's exactly as it appeared then. Including my introduction...
In my last post I wrote a review (Bonsai Bark, February, 2009) of Michael Hagedorn’s Post-Dated; The Schooling of an Irreverent Bonsai Monk, a book I consider to be an important and unique contribution to English language bonsai literature. You could say that Post-Dated is in fact literature, as distinguished from the how-to genre that most bonsai books fall into.
In addition to being a very accomplished writer, Michael Hagedorn is a first rate bonsai artist. His work appeared in the Kokufu show in Tokyo (Kokufu is the pre-eminent bonsai show in Japan) in 2004, 2005 and 2006, and Mr. Suzuki (Michael’s teacher) honored him with the opportunity to wire two trees that went on to win a Kokufu Prize and a Prime Minister Award.
Still in print and still a great bonsai read
Interview with Michael Hagedorn...
Wayne: Why Post-Dated?
Michael: Post-Dated is a title that the reader will only understand on finishing the book. The last chapter gives a clue to its choice.
What do you think is the most important thing you learned in Japan?
I came to believe that bonsai was unlike any of the other creative expressions I’d explored before. It was not modern art. It was not individualistic. It assumed collaboration: by default, with other artists, through time. It was collaboration with a living thing. It was collaboration with a tradition. This was all new to me and, honestly, disorienting. But I came to love it and find a lot of excitement and joy in being a part of that larger surround. I guess anything where we feel part of something larger is a valuable thing, and studying bonsai in Japan was that for me. And I think all bonsai activity has that potential. There, here, anywhere.
Can you say something about Japanese and North American bonsai; the relationship and how it is evolving?
There will probably always be a parent/child relationship there. In that sense Japan is the parent of any country that is interested in bonsai, as China was to Japan long ago—and ‘overtaking’ Japan is unlikely. Bonsai work in Japan is probably evolving faster than is generally known. They are very inventive, and seem to have the best balance of holding on to things that worked well and keeping an eye out for some new way. For a traditional art this attitude works better than our ‘throw out everything with the dishwater and start again’ impulse. And so I see their work progressing steadily whereas our progression is more erratic and dependent on individuality more than community. But I’m generalizing too much. The bonsai community in North America is coalescing, and that is very positive.
A cellphone shot of a photo of Michael in Post-Dated
Do you think a distinctly American style is developing?
I do not see this, unless one can call a group of individual styles a group style. I don’t. There is an impatience I think for us to see this sort of thing. We are used to being leaders in so many fields—medical, university, technology, etc.—that it is almost a reflexive that we should assume a singular voice in bonsai too. But our work in a ‘tradition’ does not seem as strong as our work outside of one. Perhaps it’s our social structure, or maybe what we value: eclecticism.
Would you like to go back to Japan and study some more. Perhaps with another teacher?
I will be returning to study with my master, Shinji Suzuki. In bonsai one does not generally study with more than one teacher, that is, if you have studied at length with that person. A month here and there has been done by many people, Europeans in particular. But once you start calling a teacher ‘master,’ things change. That is a very special relationship that is broken by studying elsewhere. Your master becomes responsible for your welfare, and you can see how that sort of thing can get confusing for a culture centered on relationship hierarchies. Who is responsible for so and so when they are studying with everyone? So they prefer to keep it simple.
Shinji Suzuki, who Michael refers to as his master (see just above)
Tell us about your teaching these days. What do you enjoy about it? What don’t you enjoy? Are you working mostly with more advanced students? Beginners? A mix?
Ah, it’s a wonderful challenge. I like the diversity of people who seem drawn to bonsai. And it is gratifying to see students get excited about taking things to another level. I’d say the only hard part is teaching in a workshop type of situation where the concept of a ‘good tree’ is difficult to teach. It is almost like trying to understand Michelangelo’s ‘David’ from photos. I was thirteen when I saw the ‘David’ in Italy and discovered that it was huge. He had made his David be a giant, the real Goliath. I would have never gotten that by looking at a photo, but it hits you in the gut when you’re there. Not book knowledge. Likewise, we can’t really learn the essential points of bonsai from reading, and we can’t learn what a good tree is by seeing a photo or talking about it—we have to see it in person. So I’ve been changing my style of teaching a bit. I prefer to be teaching the way I learned at my master’s place, by standing in front of a good tree. I think this is the best way to learn. We learn ten times as fast. So I am working on gathering a ‘teaching’ collection so that I can teach from my backyard.
I work with both beginners and advanced students. Some of the advanced students end up becoming beginners again, as my techniques are new to those who began bonsai by reading about it. There tends to be a lot of starting over with my students.
Michael with one of his Seasonal students
Do you collect wild trees? Any advice if you do?
I do collect. And I would definitely advise studying the techniques of taking wild trees with a very experienced collector who has a high success rate. Studying this seriously is better than learning by mistake and experiment—enough have done that already!
The tree pictured below is Sonoran scrub live oak (Quercus turbinella). Michael says of this tree...
I collected this oak from a mountain range in eastern Arizona in 1999, at around 5,000 ft. It was growing much like old pines or junipers along rocky breaks, in a ‘captive root’ situation. There were fine roots in a pocket of soil on bedrock. I cut the anchor root, lifted the tree, and it went into a small box. The oak from the start was very vigorous, and one or two years later was in a bonsai pot. The photo is from 2008, prior to its trip to the National Bonsai Show. Accent is a small sculpture that I made in college. The container is from my past life as a potter. To see more of Michael’s trees, visit Crataegus Bonsai.
Michael's Sonoran scrub Oak in pot that he made back in the days when he was a potter
What are your favorite trees to work with? Have you done much with local varieties?
Mostly working with native trees now, at least in the conifer group. In Japan I used to get out of bed in the morning for Japanese maple and stewartia, and I still work a lot with those. I like juniper quite a bit too, for its abstract qualities. Otherwise, as a rough sketch, I have Engelmann spruce, mountain hemlock, and various native pines and junipers in my backyard.
Do you still make your own pots?
Have not made any since returning from Japan. Still, I often see a tree in my backyard and think, ‘What if I had a pot like this…’ so it might come back in a small way, someday.
Do you have plans for any more books?
Yes, I’m working on something now, not stories and essays this time but about bonsai. Still too early to say what it is exactly, but I’m writing.
You have a chapter entitled “Through a Wash of Zen” that I enjoyed very much. My assumption is that to write this, you must practice Zen. Am I correct in this assumption?
I did meditate some in Japan, but am not a Zen practitioner in any consistent way. It did prove to be a useful tool in that stressful environment. Japanese culture and Zen seem well suited to one another…
Do you miss Japanese food?
Some things. I really miss the bento box we got every noontime. It came on a tiny truck that would be outside the studio about 10 every morning. I still remember the oscillation of that truck, and running out to meet it. The bento was perfect: a good portion of rice, some fish or meat, and a cornucopia of vegetables. It was just the right size and impossible to overeat.
The Japanese actually did many things intelligently this way, for example, there was no super-sizing of portions in the fast food restaurants (which are popular.) I was not a Japanophile, loving everything about Japan, but many things they did admirably. Food was one of them. And yet some of the crazier stories from my apprenticeship seemed to be about food. If raw horse is not your cup of tea—well, it was not mine either—but if you’re curious about that culinary adventure, it is detailed in Post-Dated.
Before he apprenticed in Japan, Michael studied with Boon. When this photo was taken (circa 2001) only one of them was a first rate bonsai artist and teacher. Now all three are. From left to right, Jonas Dupuich, Boon Manakitivipart and Michael Hagedorn
To see more of Michael’s trees, his photos and his writings visit Crataegus Bonsai