Being a bonsai

    The most erudite voices say that the millenary green art of bonsai consists of concentrating all the strength and wisdom of a large and ancient tree in a very small one. The result is nature's own revered beauty; beauty that is only bestowed with the time of life.

    There are many types of trees of different beauty, with trunks and crowns of shapes and sizes that defy reality; or with colours, flowers and fruits that make one believe that few things can be as captivating as that small tree. For all this, each one means a singular care that in the end gives a marvellous result.

    In terms of size, there are many names. One can speak of the "Shito", the smallest and almost branchless; of the "Mamen", whose name means "that fits in the palm of the hand"; of the "Chumono", which are the largest bonsai, or of the "Omono", the kings of bonsai. 

    Their forms, full of simplicity and sensitivity, are not far behind. Each bonsaist wants them to tell a story that is given to them; an identity. One speaks of "Hokidachi" when its harmonious crown of thin, unruly branches and deciduous leaves rises in the shape of a dome towards the sky, as if to sweep it away from the storms, the winds and the clouds that rarely lash it. 

    Then, like its counterpart, there is the "Kengai", whose trunk slides down, like a waterfall cascading from the top of a mountain. Almost like a survivor of snow or rocks. 

    A similar story is told by the "Bunjingi", whose bare, barkless trunk rises to the top to survive among the rest, growing a crown only at the highest part, where the light can reach it. And the "Fukinagashi", marked by the constant wind and leaning to one side, which means that its growth is only possible in one direction, is another example of a survivor. 

    There are so many styles of bonsai, so many meanings, secrets and stories, that to tell them all would be like narrating a book of endless life; for each bonsaist, for each bonsai, there is probably a story to tell; almost like an immortal legend that is born from the seed, the cutting, the layering, and that little by little, from its small pot, takes the form that its artist believes it should have throughout its hundreds and hundreds of years. 

    No one can deny the beauty and balance of bonsai, nor that sense and philosophy that has accompanied human beings and their wisdom for so long. And yet, when it comes to coining the same laws towards the huge lush forest that is mankind, in many cases it exerts the force of deforestation. 

    Human beings being so diverse and unique, with so much strength to grow and love, almost like a tree, often this very diversity makes them want to be moulded into a small pot, like a bonsai. It is said that it is to show all its gifts from its small immensity, but what pot so small and solitary allows it to grow freely? It is given the shape that someone else decides is beautiful and over the years it moulds itself to that reality. 

    They grow like the Hokidachi, like the Kengai, the Bunjingi or the Fukinagashi; deprived of the forest, of the light, of the wind, of their freedom, of their true form, of their feeling, of their life. 

    But even so, the tree turned bonsai has the strength to rebel and break the pot when the artist is not an artist, but responsible for its repression. 

And this space aims to break these pots. 

-XxX-

(Fragment extracted from the prologue of the book "Ars Amandi", written by me together with Gabriela Diana and Florencia Dos Santos)