Page 44 - Demo

Top; Ponderosa Pine, Pinus ponderosa
Bottom left; Alpine Hemlock, Tsuga mertensiana
Bottom right; Daniel and student, Eric Ridgeway.
was shocking in his approach, with a flair for show- manship, making more than one person gasp as they watched him do seemingly impossible things to strangely beautiful trees. Even more than his actions, his words were new and challenging to many. A “mav- erick” in every sense of the word, Daniel moved with the same creativity and vigor he does now, though maybe not all the wisdom his many years of pursuit has granted him. To be frank, you were either excited
by his work, or you were not. To some small extent, passionate enthusiasm or perplexed dislike still follow his efforts. But in truth, he wouldn’t have it any other way; being passionate about the art is what matters. Daniel has a keen understanding of himself, his art- istry, and what he has accomplished. He never rests on his laurels, but instead moves with the confidence of a man with nothing to prove and everything to share. He regards every day as an opportunity to create or refine something unique.
As his student, I spent years under his guidance, dutifully taking on any task that was asked. When early in our time together he tested my resolve against a 20-foot prostrate Cedrus atlantica ‘Glauca Pendula’ perched precariously on the top of a steep hill, I was quite certain he had lost his mind. I couldn’t understand the relationship between creating something lovely out of this great reaching tree, which looked more like ‘Cousin Itt,” the hairy character from the Addams Family series, than any tree I had ever seen, and bonsai. But he told me, if I could do this... I could do anything. He was teaching courage, and throughout my years that was a central theme; the courage to do a thing. He explained that it was one of the greatest things which held people back from the depth of their potential, aside from the essential visual record which would help people design truly ancient and venerable trees. Courage and understanding... those were the key ingredients.
Once, when looking over a lovely rhododendron with his signature multiple apexes, he said, “If a girl were brave, she would take out one of those crowns.” I did it without hesitation, and from that moment everything changed. It didn’t matter that as soon as I had done it, he grunted and said it was not necessarily the one he would have chosen. He was pleased by the willingness to engage as a creative partner with him in his garden. Consensus was not needed; it was the willingness to do a thing that mattered. He never called me student, and I never called him master. He would introduce me to people as his equal, which always made me laugh, but is still held by me as the highest praise I could have asked for.
42 | BCI | October/November/December 2014