Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss: In the Fall

I laughed to myself as I began composing this first shot. I’ve been the museum for fifteen years, and seriously photographing here for nearly ten of those years. And here, in front of me, was an essentially unchanged scene that I’d never spent a moment looking at. It was too obvious, and I’ve long felt an innate resistance to making those photographs that felt “easy”. But as a photography teacher once told me, pay attention to what you’re paying attention to.

And today, those beautifully carved letters were being accented by the angular Fall light and the whole scene felt as enduring as the trees themselves. I kept the camera’s shutter open for 1/3 of a second to capture some of the blur of the foreground plant as it swayed in the cooling afternoon breeze. Its impermanence felt like a welcome balance to the stone.

In the Fall, we see those most dramatic of changes and are given the opportunity to watch as the Autumn colors spill across a tree’s canopy. Each species has its unique way of expressing its color as the leaves lose their chlorophyll. Year to year, that transition can vary based on the weather and precipitation.

I’m appreciative of the museum’s minimal design that showcase these trees in front of white, lightly textured walls, so that their texture, shape and essential nature resonate outward towards the viewer. Soon, some of these trees will be transferred to the Chinese Pavilion where they will be protected from the coldest nights of winter.

This cycle continues as it has for decades, even centuries for some trees. For now, we get to appreciate them at their most showy—resplendent in these slowing days of Autumn.

Bonsai: A Look Sideways

National Bonsai Foundation Board Member and professional photographer, Stephen Voss, brings us his latest photo blog.

Revisiting the same subject over many years time allows one’s appreciation of it to deepen and be imbued with complexity and nuance. But sometimes, we will glance over a tree, having seen it many times before. I’ve sometimes found myself struggling with how I might photograph these trees after having done so many times in the past. Sometimes, changing your visual tools can be an effective way to force yourself to see the trees anew.

Tilt-shift lenses have been used by architectural photographers to make images of buildings appear perfectly straight, with no distortion. What’s interesting about the lenses to me is that they can also be used “wrongly” to pinpoint a small bit of a scene to be in focus. The name of these lenses literally comes from their ability to tilt and shift in relation to the digital sensor on the camera.

On a warm spring day at the museum, I spent some time wandering around, try- ing out this new way of seeing that seemed to bring a little abstraction to the more “straight” photography I’m used to doing. Focus in a picture is a way of directing the viewer’s eye, of making choices about what is important and what is not.

Typically, this has a lot to do with the distance of an object to the camera, but with this specialty lens, one can up-end that idea and create images where focus is a more nebulous concept. Trees take on an ethereal quality, the softness pulls the scenes out of the present and gives them a timeless feel that feels fitting for bonsai.

On a technical note - tilt-shift lenses can be extremely expensive, but there are many less expensive alternatives. Pictured here, I purchased a tilt-shift lens mount adapter that fit onto my Sony camera and could take Pentax lens with screw mount adapters. The whole setup cost less than 1/10 the price of a native tilt-shift lens and worked great.

Embrace Fall at the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum

With words from Stephen Voss and Andy Bello
All photos courtesy of Stephen Voss

The crisp crunch of leaves under our feet, the chill in the air and the return of pumpkin-flavored goodies are all telltale signs of fall. But one of the most gorgeous arboreal displays of a change in seasons can be found at the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum on the grounds of the U.S. National Arboretum. 

As mid-October crowns, the colors that long dominated the spring and summer in Washington, D.C. appear in flux. The striking chlorophyll that defined the color palette of nature for so many months post-winter wanes, and brilliant yellows, oranges and reds emerge. 

There is no better place to experience this exuberant burst of beauty and vibrance than among the trees at the first and finest public bonsai museum in the world. 

As fall presses on, the dedication Museum staff and volunteers gave to the national collections throughout the growing season is rewarded with cool autumn breezes and show-stopping foliage. They will continue their best efforts on these premier trees to keep them healthy throughout the fall and prepare them for frosty temperatures come winter – many steps of which are necessary for any bonsai owner to observe around this time. 

First comes the tertiary structural pruning of the Museum’s deciduous trees, like the much-beloved trident maples and other non-flowering species. This pruning process includes spotting twigs that have thickened in the outer canopy, detracting from the idyllic delicate and finely ramified structure. 

The pruners will address areas where more than two twigs are growing from one location, known as a node. By reducing these areas to two twigs, they prevent unwanted swelling and promote a smooth transition of taper from the trunk to the tip of the twig. 

Then they distinguish areas where twigs have elongated too far and prune them back to scale with the design of the tree. This work may be completed after the leaves are done changing color, through late winter. If this type of pruning is done too early, it may stimulate new tender growth that will not harden-off before winter, resulting in damage. If the pruning is done after winter dormancy, sugars from the roots are transported to the emerging spring tips and that energy is cut off and wasted.

While pines, spruces and junipers don’t lose all their foliage, the Museum’s conifers also need some attention before the onset of winter dormancy. Pines and spruces are cleaned of old needles, and their designs can be refined with wiring. Weaker foliage on junipers can be removed, and adventitious growth can be eliminated from the crotches of branches.

Cleaning out old needles and growth allows more light to enter the canopy and stimulate interior buds, helping them more strongly develop. Cleaning trees this time of year can be tedious, especially on a large collection, but this intimate operation brings us closer to the trees and gives us an even better understanding of their health and growth habits. 

This is also an important time to take advantage of the last warm months to ensure all winter preparation and some spring preparation is completed, and those techniques vary greatly. First and simplest: Museum staff and volunteers arrange the area where trees will be placed on the ground out of the cold drying winds. Raised beds are constructed to heel trees into mulch to protect the delicate root systems, and cold frames are built and prepared to provide protection from wind and frost damage.

But in between these imperative steps for arboreal care, the trees provide perfect opportunities to engage in mindfulness. Whether you have a bonsai collection of your own or can set aside time to visit the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum, it’s the perfect time to walk through nature to interpret its splendor displayed in the captivating colors of fall. 

Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss: The Pace of Light

On a warm summer’s day at the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum at the U.S. National Arboretum time meanders. The daylight hours are long and no one’s in any rush. Hard light overhead casts sharp shadows that move imperceptibly over the off-white walls. A cloud or two occasionally gives respite, flattening out the light before the bright glare of the sun returns.

When the summer storms come in the afternoon, they arrive in force. The horizon darkens and a swirling mass of clouds announces the urgency of the moment. The rain arrives like a bucket of water being tipped over. Pale gray stone turns the color of volcanic sand and the trees vibrate with luminous greens and sodden browns, water dripping from their small canopies.

The storms rarely linger. Their last drops catch the reemerging sun, glimmering as they fall. Puddles absorb into the ground. Everything drips in a slowing rhythm. The brief respite of cool temperatures gives way to humid, subtropical air. Shadows pick up not far from where they left off. The trees cast their form on the walls which glisten and steam as they dry.

These time lapses are an attempt to record time passing in still imagery. Each consists of dozens and sometimes hundreds of images, taken at ten second intervals. Compressing time allows us to view these scenes in motion, to reveal what even careful observation may not pick up. The quickened moments reveal a place that is in flux, with light that is always moving.

I’m left with an even greater appreciation of the longevity of these bonsai. Each tree has seen hundreds of these moments, thousands of summer days, sudden thunderstorms, and all the hidden cycles of time that mark the passage of each day.

Historical Tree Spotlight: Quince forest planting

The quince forest planting, photo by Stephen Voss 2021

One alluring aspect of bonsai is the ability to recreate an entire forest from a far away place all in a single pot. In this month’s Historical Tree Spotlight, we draw attention to a planting of Chinese quinces (Pseudocydonia sinensis) at the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum that does just that. 

Former curator Warren Hill began this arrangement in 1975, growing the centermost and now-largest tree from nursery stock to produce quinces – a yellow, apple- or pear-like fruit (pronounced “kwins”) that is usually not eaten raw but is used in desserts or teas. He then collected seeds from the fruit of that parent tree to grow the surrounding trees.  

Hill combined the parent and offspring trees to create the planting in 2002 and donated the arrangement to the Museum in July 2013. 

Museum Curator Michael James said the trees are relatively similar in age, but Hill grew them to different sizes and shapes by paying special attention to his thickening technique.

“It’s really about how much foliage each tree is allowed to have,” James said. “Allowing a tree’s branches to really extend before cutting them off allows the trees to thicken faster, but trimming branches fairly often keeps a tree smaller. 

Now that the forest planting is fairly developed, Museum staff keeps the foliage throughout the forest planting at a similar vigor to balance the leaf size with the trunk sizes and ensure the trees are proportional to each other. 

“Maintaining this difference in height and thickness really drives home the true representation of how trees look in a natural forest environment,” James said. 

He said the deciduous planting requires a lot of sun and a fair amount of water compared to other trees in the collection. The trees in Hill’s planting are some of the first to flower in the spring, and the quinces’ bark changes colors and textures throughout the year. But James said the planting peaks in the summer, when the bark exfoliates.

Warren Hill and the Chinese quince forest planting, photo credit to Walter Pall

“The smooth bark in the winter and early spring is a mixture of grays and tans and different browns, even greens,” he said. “But when that exfoliates and those colors flake off, it gives way to rosy oranges and pinks that look as if someone lit a match inside the heart wood.”

In the fall, if the flowers are pollinated, the trees grow their quinces, which are so large compared to their branches that Museum staff rarely leave more than one fruit on the composition each year. 

First Curator’s Apprentice Sophia Osorio said the planting is protected in the greenhouse during the colder months, so the quinces don’t always have access to pollinators. Museum staff have to manually pollinate trees, taking a soft, bristled brush from flower to flower to transfer the pollen. Osorio said they will pick a few flowers to enlarge throughout the year and eventually grow fruit, but that takes some extra planning. 

“We have to be careful that the branch we allow to flower is in the right place in the composition and will be able to support that fruit, yet not swell too much from developing,” she said.

Osorio added that the branch often has to be supported with wire because a fruit could easily snap a bonsai branch off by the time it matures in fall.

“The fruit draws tons of nutrients up from the roots, through the trunk, through the branch and to itself,” she said. “Due to that immense transfer of water and energy, the branch with the fruit is going to thicken a lot more than the others.”

Photo by Stephen Voss, 2021

Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss: A Winter’s Quiet - Bonsai in Black and White

In Washington, D.C., winter arrives in fits and starts, or sometimes not at all. In years past, we’ve gone the whole season without measurable snowfall. Nevertheless, in these months when trees are laid bare, we might allow ourselves to take a moment and to pause for reflection. The showy growth of spring is still weeks away and the bonsai at the U.S. National Arboretum’s National Bonsai & Penjing Museum are at rest.

The graphic, abstract nature of the trees is most evident in the deciduous species, as their limbs stand out against the off-white backdrop of the Chinese Pavilion, where many of the trees spend their winter months. The deadwood of the coniferous trees can be equally striking, especially when composed against the dark green of the tree’s foliage. In each tree, there holds a promise – a slowly ticking clock that counts the days, waiting for the moment when each branch begins to push out leaves.

For now, I’m embracing the already monochromatic nature of these trees and taking a different approach to photographing them. As an aside, many digital cameras have a black and white mode, but I’d recommend that you photograph in color and convert the image afterwards in your preferred image editing program. This will give you more flexibility in choosing how the image looks in black and white.

When we photograph in black and white, we need to think as much about the final image we’ll be creating as the actual scene in front of us. In a monochromatic image, form, structure and shape are emphasized. The more abstract nature of a tree can come through. As the old photography saying goes, color photos engage your mind, black and white ones engage your heart. 

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So what do we look for when photographing bonsai in black and white? I love photographing the texture of the bark. Frankly, this part of the trees can be nearly colorless to begin with, so emphasizing the grooves and patterns of the bark can make for an interesting image. This Japanese pine is one of my favorite trees in the collection, and its undulating trunk and beautiful, craggy bark makes for a wonderful image. One quick tip – when you convert these images to black and white, increasing the contrast and clarity (local contrast correction) can further emphasize texture and patterns.

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Looking for differences in colors can also make for interesting black and white images. When you convert the image, the tonality of the colors can change and with a good conversion program, you can define how light and dark the different tones can be.

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A light snow had fallen during my last trip to the Museum, and I took advantage of it to photograph these fresh footprints in the snow in the Japanese Pavilion. I’ve continued to enjoy exploring the visual possibilities in the entire Museum, not just the trees in my work. A snowfall makes for a great opportunity to realign how you see a place. When photographing snow, your camera’s meter may try to darken it too much, so it’s useful to adjust the exposure to brighten the image a little. You want to brighten it enough for the snow to look natural without losing all of the detail.

We’re in the last month of winter here in D.C. Soon, the curators and dedicated volunteers will begin repotting bonsai when needed and bringing trees back outside. I’m hopeful the Museum will soon reopen and we will all be able to enjoy its wonder and splendor as the days grow longer and the weather warms up.

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As a photographer who now makes a living snapping pictures of some of the world’s most influential figures, Stephen Voss didn’t always know that photography could be more than a hobby.  Once a bonsai novice, he certainly didn’t think he would publish a photography book of bonsai.

Now that he’s an accomplished photographer, Voss wants to share his “tricks of the bonsai photography trade.” This entry is part of his regular guest blog series, “Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss", published on NBF’s blog, covering everything from lighting, angles and mindset needed when photographing the trees.

Sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to never miss one of his entries! Read his last entry here.

Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss: Fall Foliage at the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum

A trident maple in its full fall splendor

By the end of October in D.C., the trees have begun to lose their summertime greenery. The colors that have long dominated the spring and summer here are in flux. The chlorophyll that defined the color palette of nature is waning, and brilliant yellows, oranges and reds emerge. I visited the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum on the grounds of the U.S. National Arboretum one afternoon to see these fall colors in the fading light of an unseasonably warm day.

Photographing at this time of year feels like a gift, an exuberant offering of beauty and color that crescendos here in November then quickly fades as we settle in for the browns and grays of winter. The shortness of the days gives us golden hours in the late afternoon, bringing warm light from a setting sun. 

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LEFT: This photo was taken with the camera more or less on an even exposure. RIGHT: For this photo, I underexposed by a couple of stops (switching shutter speed from 1/125 to 1/500) and increased the contrast of the image in Photoshop.

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, I like to look for little pockets of light that have filtered through the trees, illuminating just a spot of a branch or particularly colorful leaf. If you’re able to adjust your camera’s exposure, you can deliberately underexpose the image a bit to deepen the colors and darken the background, as I’ve done above. 

Photographing into the sunlight gives the opportunity to see the colors of fall backlit and illuminated.

The vibrance of the colors is magnified with morning dew or a bit of rain. On the gloomiest, rainiest days, there are great images to be made. As the old photographer’s saying goes, “Bad weather makes for good photos.”  

At dusk, the light softens and we get these beautiful, subtle tones on a ginkgo tree that has just begun to turn yellow.

While I love golden light, I think dawn and dusk are the most interesting times to photograph. The light has cooled to a bluish tone, and the warm colors of the leaves stand out even more against their environment. In the gloaming, the hard shadows from direct light are gone and for just a brief time the drama of the sunlight fades and there are beautiful, subtle photos to be made. 

I placed a beautiful maple tree to serve as a splash of color to balance the wonderful stark white wall that shows off the tree in the background. Fall color can be part of your photographic palette and a compositional tool, it doesn’t always have to be the center of attention.

The trees changing colors at different times can be a great opportunity to show contrast and play with color. A particularly vibrant tree might make for an interesting macro (close-up) image, but you might also consider placing it in context. Sometimes we appreciate colors in nature more richly when they are photographed in comparison to their less vibrant surroundings. 

I was fascinated by these beech leaves, which showed the entirety of fall's transformation, from verdant green to the brown of winter with a pale yellow in between.

A macro lens allows you to use depth of field as a visual tool to sort out what you want to emphasize and not emphasize. I loved the distant silhouette of the cedar elm’s trunks that subtlety frame its foreground leaves.

With the setting sun, a quiet comes to the Arboretum. While the museum remains closed, the dedicated caretakers of these trees continue their work each day. These days, they are preparing the space for winter and for the time when they can reopen the doors for visitors to enjoy these special trees in person once again. Whether you have a bonsai collection of your own, or can simply see fall colors out your window, it’s a great time to pack a bag and walk through nature to interpret its splendor.

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As a photographer who now makes a living snapping pictures of some of the world’s most influential figures, Stephen Voss didn’t always know that photography could be more than a hobby.  Once a bonsai novice, he certainly didn’t think he would publish a photography book of bonsai.

Now that he’s an accomplished photographer, Voss wants to share his “tricks of the bonsai photography trade.” This entry is part of his regular guest blog series, “Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss", published on NBF’s blog, covering everything from lighting, angles and mindset needed when photographing the trees. This has been a special entry in this series given the times.

Sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to never miss one of his entries! Read his last entry here.

Photographing Bonsai With Stephen Voss: A Visit to the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum During Quarantine

On May 13, the sun was shining on a beautiful spring day in Washington, D.C. As I drove through Rock Creek Park, trees formed a vibrant cathedral of green over the road, which was nearly empty of cars as Washingtonians remained home to mitigate the spread of COVID-19. 

I’d been given the unusual privilege of going to the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum in the midst of the District-wide shutdown to take photographs for the National Bonsai Foundation’s 2019 Annual Report.

On the premises of the U.S. National Arboretum, the Museum has always been a quiet and peaceful place, ideal for reflection and for connecting with nature. Usually the parking lot is fairly full, and both visitors and staff can be seen walking the grounds.

But May 13 was different. Only essential staff were allowed on site, and work days were staggered to encourage social distancing. Walking toward the Museum, with the Capitol Columns in the distance, I didn’t see a single person. The grounds felt emptied out, reclaimed by the quiet.

At the Museum, staff had been doing the vital work of keeping the trees healthy. The lack of visitors meant more ambitious projects could be undertaken, like repotting the famous Yamaki pine and letting the foliage of other trees grow out because they wouldn’t be on display.

Walking through the Museum alone, I felt both enormous gratitude and a sense of sadness, that others could not currently experience this living monument to bonsai.

But in these trying times, under the watchful eye of Museum staff, the trees have thrived. Their tenacity is a sign of hope, a reminder that the trees have persevered through other trying times. Outside these walls, the world shifts, our country convulses – but the trees endure. 

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As a photographer who now makes a living snapping pictures of some of the world’s most influential figures, Stephen Voss didn’t always know that photography could be more than a hobby.  Once a bonsai novice, he certainly didn’t think he would publish a photography book of bonsai.

Now that he’s an accomplished photographer, Voss wants to share his “tricks of the bonsai photography trade.” This entry is part of his regular guest blog series, “Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss", published on NBF’s blog, covering everything from lighting, angles and mindset needed when photographing the trees. This has been a special entry in this series given the times.

Sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to never miss one of his entries! Read his last entry here.

Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss: Searching For Order in Bonsai

As a photographer who now makes a living snapping pictures of some of the world’s most influential figures, Stephen Voss didn’t always know that photography could be more than a hobby.  Once a bonsai novice, he certainly didn’t think he would publish a photography book of bonsai.

Now that he’s an accomplished photographer, Voss wants to share his “tricks of the bonsai photography trade.” This entry is part of his regular guest blog series, “Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss"," published on NBF’s blog, covering everything from lighting, angles and mindset needed when photographing the trees. Sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to never miss one of his entries! Read his last entry here.

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I’ve been researching the work of an early nature photographer named Eliot Porter for the photography newsletter I write. Porter was one of the first nature photographers to use color film and a contemporary of Ansel Adams, a renowned photographer and conservationist. But Porter’s work did not feature the bold colors and blazing sunsets of today’s nature photographers. Instead, he sought subtlety and interrelationships of color and form. 

Later in his career, Porter read James Gleick’s “Chaos: Making a New Science,” recognizing in the text the scientific theory that had guided his career and visual thinking. He then published “Nature’s Chaos,” a collection of photographs from the natural world, which sought to reconcile his work and these scientific ideas. In the introduction, he explains this idea:

Although subjects such as mosses, lichens or leaves that have just fallen are not orderly at all, when viewed as detailed sections, they become orderly. This process suggests a tension between order and chaos. When I photograph, I see the arrangement that looks orderly, but when you consider the subjects as a whole or on a larger scale, they appear disorderly. Only in fragments of the whole is nature’s order apparent.

Where this gets interesting to me is with bonsai, which are, to varying degrees, sculpted by the human hand and meant to be seen as a wholly arranged object. A bonsai master guides the trees on a path to order, but it’s an ever-evolving relationship that may take unexpected turns. Much of my bonsai photography is a search for order, picking out the most aesthetically pleasing parts of a tree while trying to acknowledge and appreciate the basic chaos ever-present in the nature world.

So how does one find visual order when photographing bonsai? To demonstrate, I’ll use some photographs of this beautiful Japanese Beech that has been in training since 1945 and was donated to the Museum by Kiyoshi Kawamata.

My first image of the tree looks like this:

Here we see a beautiful forest-style planting with at least 16 individual trees (and a young Museum visitor in the background). 

To find order, we’re going to use all of the tools of photography that are at our disposal. This includes available light, exposure, lens choice and depth of field.

Now Here’s a first attempt at bringing some order to this image. I decreased the exposure so the background would darken. This helps the grayish-white branches to stand out more.

I also recomposed the image. Notice how more of the individual branches are now isolated against the dark background? I’ve circled those gaps here in red. Our brains are designed to look for contrast, to delineate based on light and dark tones. By darkening the image and composing it to allow more of the branches to stand out, I’ve already introduced a bit of order and made a more visually interesting photo.

Let’s take it a step further. I’ve changed to a longer lens for this image (180mm macro) and lowered my tripod. In this image, the tree trunk that’s slightly off-center is the main focus:

As I continue perusing the tree, I see some younger branches that are growing off to the right side of the pot. Using low depth of field, I’m able to isolate them against the soil at the bottom of the pot. 

Here’s my first image:

But I’m wondering if there would be a more visually impactful way to show the beautiful curve of this branch. By recomposing so that the branches are seen against the black platform the trees rest on, it stands out even more, as seen here:

I’m not sure which of these images I like more. But trying out ideas is important when you’re taking photographs, not making too many judgments in the moment, knowing that you’ll be able to review the images later and determine what was successful.

Thanks for following along. I hope you all are staying safe and healthy. While the Museum may be closed, you can use the ideas I talked about here on gardens, trees and even houseplants. Learning to see order in the chaos of nature allows you to bring a new visual acuity to your photographs.

Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss: A Winter’s Visit

As a photographer who now makes a living snapping pictures of some of the world’s most influential figures, Stephen Voss didn’t always know that photography could be more than a hobby.  Once a bonsai novice, he certainly didn’t think he would publish a photography book of bonsai.

Now that he’s an accomplished photographer, Voss wants to share his “tricks of the bonsai photography trade.” This entry is part of his regular guest blog series, “Photographing Bonsai with Stephen Voss"," published on NBF’s blog, covering everything from lighting, angles and mindset needed when photographing the trees. Sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to never miss one of his entries! Read his last entry here.

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Washington, D.C. has resisted giving itself over to winter this year, with 70 degree days and only a handful of nights below freezing. On one of these warm January days, I visited the National Bonsai & Penjing Museum to photograph the trees in the winter light.

While the trees are the main attraction, the Museum grounds are not to be overlooked. The cryptomeria-lined entrance gives you the sense of moving from one world to another, emerging through the main gates to the courtyard where a single tree can be seen.

Stephen Voss

To find the majority of the trees, you must walk through the Chinese Pavilion, in which the trees spend the colder months. The open air building boasts a roof of translucent glass, which keeps the pavilion a few degrees warmer than outside. But more importantly, this glass is the key to creating some of the most beautiful light the Museum sees all year. The low-angled winter sunbeams scatter and soften as they pass through the panes but somehow still retain a certain crispness as they fall upon the resting trees.

The trees are often just inches apart from each other, allowing for one to observe the collection as a miniature bonsai forest – a remix of the typical presentation that gives each tree its own space. In these tight configurations, there are photographs to be made exploring the relationships between the trees.

Stephen Voss

There are signs of life to be found in the pavilion even a third of the way through winter. Camellias are bursting with blooms and the Chinese quince’s jewel-like green buds erupt skyward. Winter light in the Chinese Pavilion never comes from straight above, but shines from hard angles, reflecting the shortened daylight hours.

Stephen Voss

The Toringo Crab Apple, in training since 1905 and one of my favorite trees, still bears some small yellow fruit that faintly sways in the breeze from the circulating fan.

Winter is a season of rest and stillness, and I don’t think there’s a better time of year to visit the Museum. Over the year and a half that I was photographing my book – In Training, A Book of Bonsai Photos – the majority of the photographs were produced from the two winters I spent there. The bare deciduous trees become abstract forms, and it’s at these times that the invisible hands of the bonsai master’s work are most clearly seen.