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One of the most popular exhibits at the recent Bangor Garden Show was the Bonsai Society’s display of miniature trees and shrubs, pruned and trained to near-perfection and potted in elegant Japanese vessels. Considering America’s general ignorance of most aspects of Asian culture, I find the almost universal interest in this ancient art form — also practiced by the Chinese, who call it Pen Jing — surprising. The recognition and acceptance factors of Bonsai are on a par with Chinese egg rolls and Honda Civics.
I remain woefully undereducated on the horticultural aspects of Bonsai, but as a professional plantsman, I reckon I’ll have to look into the matter soon. The aesthetics of Bonsai, on the other hand, have never been lost on me, and as I gazed approvingly at the display in the Bangor Auditorium, I could feel my interest growing. One aspect in particular fits in with the topic of today’s column.
Asymmetry is used to very great advantage in Bonsai, as evidenced by one of the larger specimens at the Bangor show, an ancient-looking spruce grown at a rakish angle, its branches hanging precariously over one edge of the pot. There was absolutely nothing symmetrical about this plant, yet the overall effect was balanced. Even more, there was an excitement about the lopsided subject, and a certain drama, that could have been achieved in no other way.
The Japanese do not confine their appreciation of asymmetry to potted plants. Their landscapes and gardens are famous for their use of weeping trees and shrubs, which lend an air of the contemplative and occasionally even the melancholy to plantings. The best weeping subjects are those whose trunks lean dramatically to one side, supporting, in cantilever fashion, the pendulous branches. Less appealing — at least to this biased gardener — are the grafted specimens which look a little like inverted floor mops.
Of course, the ideal setting for a dramatically asymmetrical dwarf conifer is on a promontory jutting out over a tranquil lake or stream, or perhaps on an island in a sea of raked sand. But we don’t all have or necessarily want Zen gardens in our backyards. Still, asymmetry has its place. By boldly placing a strong subject — weeping or upright — to one side of the garden or yard, one can gain a lifetime of visual interest.
On a more domestic note, it’s worth mentioning that potted plants don’t have to obey any rules of symmetry to be interesting. I am frequently amused by shoppers at our greenhouse who carefully select the most perfectly shaped hanging fuchsia or ivy geranium, only to hang it in the corner of the porch or against a wall. Much better to have a lopsided plant in such a setting. Even a hanging plant that is visible from all sides can be more appealing if it spills dramatically over one side of the pot.
The key to successfully using asymmetrical plants in the landscape is balance. Any specimen that leans or weeps to one side confers a certain motion to the visual sweep of the garden. To balance this, one can juxtapose another plant or a stone or garden ornament against the implied direction of motion. Alternately, one might place a balancing element on the non-leaning side of the asymmetrical subject, giving the visual impression that it is in no danger of uprooting itself.
When considering the introduction of slightly unorthodox plants of any type into one’s garden, there are two pieces of advice I can offer: be bold and BE BOLD.
Michael Zuck of Bangor is a horticulturist and the NEWS garden columnist. Send inquiries to him at 2106 Essex St., Bangor, Maine 04401.
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